#anxious but what i am about to do is not inherently dangerous and i need to recognize im just experiencing something new and do it scared.

[pepprs]

ok so. today i am going to

fly (and travel at all) by myself for the first time since making the emergency return home from br!ghton bc of c0vid 4 years ago (extremely distressing and scary experience). and fly by myself two weeks after a mixed bag of a conference experience / plane ride home that included a massive scary depressive spiral that i had someone there to help me through as much as they could but it wasn’t enough which was absolutely not their fault but was deeply distressing to me at the time. so im about to be in a very similar environment but this time that person won’t be physically with me and it’s going to wreck my brain in multiple directions in part bc i have not yet recovered from the depressive spiral. i am still in it. lawl <3

ride in an uber by myself for the first time. ride in an uber at all for maybe the 5th time. as a very short young woman. which i have been expressedly warned by my parents not to do. lol <3

check into a hotel by myself for the first time

walk in a big city by myself for the first time (technically slightly untrue bc wjen i was last in ch!cago 5 years ago i did power walk from the hotel to the conference venue (like a block away) on the last day bc i was pissed about a situation but that was like… a block and i saw ppl i knew walking in that area. this time i will be in the same city and know no one at least for today

give myself a self care evening at the recommendation of my therapist…. for the first time. (maybe after i take a walk which i will do specifically when it’s still light out to see what the area is like). tonight no one i know will be in ch!cago yet and i have no plans to do anything. im going to play video games and draw and sing and give myself space and time to just enjoy being by myself and see how it goes

#purrs #conference tag #chicago #im very very very scared. that i won’t be able to handle it. i have craved solitude but also don’t know if it’s something i actually want o #if it’s a product of my circumstances. i am not used to being completely alone like that like whenever ive had it there have always been #other ppl in the building that ive had to be cognizant of and that will be true of a hotel too but bc i don’t know the people i will feel #less responsible to them . like obviously im not goi ng to sing at the top of my lungs but i will feel like i can sing which ive never felt #like i can do when ive lived with roommates or at home kinda. idk. my therapist was challenging me to experiment with fear by asking myself #if im really in danger or if im just uncomfortable / about to experience something ive never done before and right now im so extremely #anxious but what i am about to do is not inherently dangerous and i need to recognize im just experiencing something new and do it scared. #like im literally terrified i can’t describe how scared i am in a way that does it justice. but i am going to be okay. and when i tell #myself that i make it so. #trina vega voice im a woman…… [about to be] in ch!cago….. who’s SCARED! #i also have no idea how to be in a big city and be safe. like what do i do if im followed or if someone tries to attack me or something. #obviously the chances of that are extremely slim but ive had it hammered into me that if i am alone in a city that’s what’s going to happen #to me bc i am such a ~weak and defenseless small young woman~ lol. but bc i believed the fear and have had very little experience in citie #i have no idea how to navigate them or to be safe which creates the problem. like it makes it true that i am weak and defenseless bc i have #been shielded from being able to learn how to be smart and strong and cognizant of my surroundings. and i am so angry about it and hope tha #i will SHATTER that sense when im there and come away from it w confidence ive never had before #like i don’t have… pepper spray or anything like that. idk if that’s a thing ppl actually carry on them or if it’s just a thing ppl say. i #genuinely have zero idea at all. and i really really hope i won’t be in a situation where i’ll wish i had some. i doubt i will be but still

[chronicallycouchbound]

Guide to interacting with people with psychosis spectrum disorders and psychotic symptoms

If someone who has psychotic symptoms is talking to you about their hallucinations or delusions, do not suggest:

That they are inherently violent or dangerous Why: Statistically, people with psychosis are more likely to be victims of violence, not perpetrators. They are more likely to be killed by police than people without mental illnesses.

That their hallucinations are actually reality and everyone else can’t experience it Why: this can cause further dissonance between reality for the person, especially if they’re actively experiencing symptoms. It can lead to derealization and depersonalization, and exasperate or trigger hallucinations and/or delusions.

That they are a prophet, god, all powerful, etc. Why: along with the above reason of causing further separation from reality, many people with psychotic spectrum disorders experience delusions, one common type of delusion is called delusions of grandeur, which is a specific delusion around perceiving oneself or one’s accomplishments as greatness or of higher status than others. This specific delusion can be dangerous because it can lead to the person believing that they are immune to consequences, including physical harm to oneself. By affirming beliefs of the person being god-like, it can trigger or exasperate this delusion. This is especially common with people who have Bipolar type 1 with psychotic features and they are in manic states.

That they should just meditate Why: Meditation often isn’t safe for people with psychosis! Studies show that unguided meditation is especially risky, because without focusing on reality, people with psychotic symptoms are more likely to have hallucinations, or have depersonalization/derealization.

That you can see/hear it too, when you can’t/lying to agree with their hallucinations Why: This will absolutely exasperate symptoms, also it’s lying and is wrong and a genuinely horrible thing to do. This one should be obvious.

That they should just use cannabis or other psychoactive drugs Why: THC and other psychoactive compounds, can trigger psychotic episodes in people who have or are predisposed to psychosis, and trigger anxiety and hallucinations, which can exasperate symptoms. That being said, individual experiences may differ greatly, and they may be able to use psychoactive substances with no issues, but to suggest it as a cure-all or without a proper understanding of its possible negative side effects can be dangerous. Also, many antipsychotics and other psychiatric medications interact with many psychoactive drugs, so it’s important to know if it’s physically safe for them to use both at once.

Things you can say/do instead!

When actively experiencing symptoms/episodes:

Maintain a calm and steady tone of voice, don’t yell.

Explain what you’re doing before you do it, and try to avoid sudden movements which can scare or jump someone

If they have an action plan, follow it. I also urge you to remember that they’re scared right now. They likely don’t want to hurt anyone, but they’re terrified. Find ways to be safe, preferably that don’t involve police (there are lots of statistics around why this is unhelpful and can be dangerous)

“I understand that you feel scared right now, let’s find ways to be safe through this.” Be supportive! Psychotic symptoms are similar to symptoms of any other mental illnesses, when someone is depressed or anxious, we often reach out with kindness, remember that people with psychosis also need that compassion and consideration.

“We are at [location], I am [name] we are [relationship to person], we are safe” Talking about reality can be really helpful, most people with symptoms need some guidance around basic understandings of reality, affirming what is real can help them distinguish what is and isn’t. An important note, reality checks can sometimes be more harmful than helpful. Usually, a person who needs a reality check will just ask the questions: “Who are you?”, “Where are we?”, Etc.

Sometimes, doing reasonable things to help them feel safer is necessary to help them calm down enough that they stop having severe symptoms. For example, someone who is afraid that people are watching them might want to cover windows and lock doors, help them create a safe space for them mentally by doing that. Some requests might be a bit odd, but harmless, like putting salt in the doorways so demons can’t get in, you can do that, or find alternatives to help them feel safe. It’s important to try to create this safe space while also affirming reality.

Try not to focus on the specific hallucination, but rather on their feelings, for example instead of talking about the demons or details about the demons, talk about their feelings about the demons, and how you can make them feel safer. It can help them feel secure to have someone in reality helping them stay safe while they cope with these scary symptoms.

Ask permission before touching, consent is particularly important for people with psychosis, we are often stripped of our right to consent while in episodes.

Offer snacks, stuffed animals, or other comfort items

When talking about their experiences, diagnosis, or when not in episodes:

Ask how you can be supportive, both in and outside of episodes, some people need help with remembering medications, or someone to call when they’re scared and having symptoms. Sometimes it just helps to be able to explain what they’re going through and have someone just listen. They know their needs best.

Help them come up with a crisis/safety plan for when they have episodes, it can literally save their life, or at least make it more manageable and sometimes less scary.

Check on them if they seem off, have life changes, or are isolating.

Learn their warning signs and help them stay safe before they have episodes, and hopefully prevent them from happening or being more unmanageable.

Offer to do reality checks if that's something that helps them

Offer to do medication reminders ( if you're able to)

I was diagnosed with Bipolar 1 with Psychosis when I was 18. I have many psychotic symptoms including hallucinations, delusions, derealization, and depersonalization. This was written from my own experiences, research, and recommendations from providers. I highly recommend seeking out more information and experiences about psychosis to gain a more comprehensive understanding of it. No guide is one-size-fits-all, and this is definitely incomplete in many ways, but hopefully, this provides some insight or education for you.

#chronically couchbound #guides #disability #disabled #psychosis #schizophrenia #bipolar #mad rights #actually psychotic #psychotic disorders #mania #hallucinations #delusions #bipolar mania #bipolar disorder #manic depression #mental health #mental illness #mad studies #madcrip #mad pride #anti psychotics #psychotic spectrum disorders #bipolar 1 #schizoaffective #schizo spectrum #schizophrenic #how to support #crazy #actually manic

[cangrellesteponme]

13, 14, and 19 for the writing asks!

What feedback did you receive for your writing that stuck with you?

This is going to sound very stupid, but what haunts me is the importance of making your work readable.

How well or shittily you write doesn't matter if your work is an ugly wall of text that no one will read. I was taught about that in detail when I was around 11 (harsh teachers...), and then I was told how to do it a bit better when I was 13. As you know, I'm 20, so... yeah never forgetting that.

But yeah, learn from me (and my French teachers) and fix your format. Prescriptivism is inherently wrong and all but if you want to listen, or at least know the rules before you break them, it's easy.

A new idea is a new paragraph. Dialogue is a new paragraph. Use the right quotation marks for your language. Use the right dialogue format too. Free Indirect Speech or Thought is a new paragraph unless it actually fits into the idea you're developing (and italicise that shit, for the love of god, unless you're intentionally making it unclear). Use your tenses correctly (English literally has two. Just pick one and stick to it, or if you want to switch it up, do so only if it actually adds to your storytelling).

This is like, some basic Writing Format 101, and I have a lot more things to say (especially as someone who has corrected, proofread, and reviewed a fuckton of writing from their peers) but that would take hours.

What is something that you feel weird/uncomfortable writing about?

Plenty of things, actually.

We all know that I only write sex scenes if I'm paid to do it, so there's that. I may fit the "all aces write good smut" cliché but I am not willing, okay.

But also writing very emotional characters is out of my comfort zone. For Open The Door, I wrote from Virgil's (the literal embodiment of anxiety) POV and through the whole thing I was like "what does severe anxiety even feel like... i think i'm actually writing sensory overload there let me fix that... oh no that's PTSD... eh, that works" because I'm simply not a very anxious person. And I struggle with big emotions in general for the same reason - I'm just a very repressed rational bitch.

I also have a hard time writing empathy, comfort, and all those complex... social things. I'm not talking in terms of skill, or ability - I mean that I'm honestly just not having a great time with those things because it takes so much effort (but I balance it out with more fun stuff! like heartbreaking angst <3).

Show us the line you want readers to remember from your story.

I'll answer this for Staring Contest, obviously.

It has to be one of those two:

"Baldroy does not like many things about many people, but today he decides that he particularly hates the way Sebastian Michaelis looks at their young master."

"There’s something fragile and worn, a breath away from breaking, bubbling under the surface but ready to cool down in a second."

Obviously, Staring Contest has no dialogue (except one line from Ciel, because I simply couldn't be bothered to change it) and a very honest focaliser, which kind of restricted my ability to hide the truth in a bunch of lies so I had to work a lot with omissions.

With the first line, I think what I'm implying is obvious (even the second, more disturbing layer of it also is. i mean we've all read the manga. canon seb is a creep), and I want the reader to keep that in mind, for reasons similar to the second line. For the second one, I wanted it to be a sweet, memorable line with just a hint of carefully sprinkled pain.

For both of those, what you should remember is that appearances or suddenly developed feelings of paternal affection don't matter - this is still a dangerous demon whose sole intent is to get that dinner. The affection is fragile not only because it's new, but also because it can and will be crushed if needed. Both of those line highlight, in different ways, how fucked up this all is. But yeah it's all hidden in the fluffy dadbastian vibes.

#i always write long ass answers i'm so sorry lmao #takes me ages to get to the damn point #but yeah i hope those answers are satisfying :) #ota's ask answers

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

Hello. simply, I am wondering what you believe is the best solution towards preventing gun violence within schools. Not an anti 2A questioner - guns are good and necessary. Nonetheless, the plague of these shootings has got to go..

i answered a similar question like a week ago but i was in a rush so i wasn't able to answer it thoughtfully enough. so i'll answer again.

second, somehow get the media to stop sensationalizing school shooters. i don't know exactly how this would be done because of the first amendment but i'm sure we could figure out something. even if it's just some industry wide self-regulation or something.

i think these two things would have the largest effect /directly/.

however, i believe that school shootings (and mass shootings in general) are really symptoms of a much larger issue: moral and social decay. and i can't take anyone seriously who doesn't take /that/ issue seriously. because without addressing that you're only addressing the symptoms, not the disease itself.

moral decay sounds ambiguous but you know what i mean. everyone knows what it means. it's shorthand for how disconnected, nihilistic, and narcissistic our society has become. we are more isolated and atomized than ever. we have no social trust. no community. wealth inequality. a mental health crisis. criminals walking our streets. families are broken. no one believes in anything. our media glorifies materialistic greed and self-indulgence.

then we act surprised when our society produces broken people full of rage and resentment?

so, some things that could help the /real/ issue which might help the issue of school shootings /indirectly/:

build denser, walkable communities. increase policing and get tough on crime -- clean up communities. invest in mental healthcare (this includes increasing funding for schools to hiring social workers). universal healthcare in general tbh. create a new type of "family planning" that emphasizes making families and making them work (financial resources, discounts on recreational activities, marriage counseling, parent-child counseling, etc). universal basic income. honestly, we should probably start censoring our media again (nothing too draconian but there should be /some/ standard). immigration control (i know the libs hate to hear it but ethnic diversity is negatively correlated with social trust). tax reform. land reform. education reform (more civic and patriotic oriented and also more emphasis on extracurricular activities and community-building). make my cult the state religion (i'm mostly memeing here but i do sincerely believe america is in desperate need of a new post-christian religious awakening). protectionism (bring back jobs that pay well).

first, it's important to note a few things.

most mass shootings are not school shootings but gang-related. school shootings are extremely rare statistical outliers -- you're about as likely to be killed in a school shooting as you are to be killed by lightning. guns used to be more accessible and there were virtually never any school shootings until recently. it seems clear to me that this is some type of social contagion more than anything.

none of this is to say that mass shootings aren't an issue or that we shouldn't try to mitigate them. the point is, this is a sudden and relatively recent phenomenon and, while tragic, it is not something to lose our minds over. if you're paranoid about school shootings you need to ask yourself why you're not also paranoid about lightning or cars or plane crashes or random animal attacks. and if you /are/ paranoid about those things then maybe you're just an anxious person and should probably seek therapy.

we can't live in fear. speaking of alcohol, alcohol causes a lot of harm. but we, as americans, have decided that it's worth the risks. that there is some inherent /good/ in having access to alcohol. that the benefits of having access to alcohol outweigh the harm it causes. we are a free people. and freedom is dangerous. there is more to life than maximizing "harm reduction."

but now for some possible mitigating solutions

first, we need to secure our schools the same way we secure our courthouses or airports. our schools are just as important as these institutions and we should protect them as such. this should be the bare minimum standard.

second, somehow get the media to stop sensationalizing school shooters. i don't know exactly how this would be done because of the first amendment but i'm sure we could figure out something. even if it's just some industry wide self-regulation or something. but getting them to stop plastering the names/faces of the shooters everywhere and publishing their "manifestos" and all that would go a long way.

i think these two things would have the largest effect /directly/.

however, i believe that school shootings (and mass shootings in general) are really symptoms of a much larger issue: moral and social decay. and i can't take anyone seriously who doesn't take /that/ issue seriously. because without addressing that you're only addressing the symptoms, not the disease itself.

moral decay sounds ambiguous but you know what i mean. everyone knows what it means. it's shorthand for how disconnected, nihilistic, and narcissistic our society has become. we are more isolated and atomized than ever. we have no social trust. no community. wealth inequality. a mental health crisis. criminals walking our streets. families are broken. no one believes in anything. our media glorifies materialistic greed and self-indulgence.

then we act surprised when our society produces broken people full of rage and resentment? i've heard someone describe it as a "slow motion riot" and riots are the voice of the unheard. well, our society is sick and disconnected so there are more "unheard" than ever.

so, some things that could help the /real/ issue which might help the issue of school shootings /indirectly/:

build denser, walkable communities. increase policing and get tough on crime -- clean up communities. invest in mental healthcare (this includes increasing funding for schools to hiring social workers). universal healthcare in general tbh. create a new type of "family planning" that emphasizes making families and making them work (financial resources, discounts on recreational activities, marriage counseling, parent-child counseling, etc). universal basic income. honestly, we should probably start censoring our media again (nothing too draconian but there should be /some/ standard). immigration control (i know the libs hate to hear it but ethnic diversity is negatively correlated with social trust). tax reform. land reform. education reform (more civic and patriotic oriented and also more emphasis on extracurricular activities and community-building). make my cult the state religion (i'm mostly memeing here but i do sincerely believe america is in desperate need of a new post-christian religious awakening). institute a new militia system (kinda memeing but also serious). protectionism (bring back jobs that pay well).

basically just reform society bro. our society is deeply sick and requires some pretty fundamental change.

#until then all we can do is mitigate school shootings how i mentioned above #otherwise we just have to accept them as an inevitable but unpredictable part of life

[impunkster-syndrome]

Making my own response to this, but in my own post so I don't derail and since this would be mature-locked. Basically just going to be spewing my thoughts on my own journey and what got me to this point.

Growing up, I repressed every single sexual thought I recognized as sexual. I was raised to. Didn't want to sin, lest I be burning in hell while being told by my mom that I needed to be a good example for my abusers.

But, when you're young and a victim of CSA, sexual things feel normal. It wasn't until I hit about 18 that I started putting together clues that my upbringing wasn't normal. I would say and do inappropriate things as a child because I didn't know what was actually normal or how to handle my sexual development being fucked.

So, when I was younger, I saw a lot of naked adults. Apparently I'd take showers with my uncle. My protector who has been around since I was four said that he believes my biological father would watch porn and masturbate with me in the room. Then there's the flashing at a park in Benbrook, TX from him and him threatening to hit me if I told anyone. The normalization of so many things that weren't normal and now feel disgusting for having to had to be near as a child.

So, I did act out as a kid. I've done things I am certainly not proud of. Nothing illegal, though. Kids can exhibit hypersexuality, and no one really helped me because no one talked about it or really seemed to even consider it. Things just kind of got worse as I was older. Compulsive masturbation, being unable to sleep unless I did so, etc. I actually think that last part is tied to most likely having been repeatedly molested in bed.

My baseline for what is normal is very fucked.

Now that I'm 21, I've been deconstructing everything for a few years. Met a good partner who actually allows me to go at my own pace. I've come a long way in the past year and even have sex toys now.

I still don't enjoy masturbation.

Not unless I think of some scenarios.

CNC, incest, xenophilia, sexual cannibalism, vampirism, masochism

I rarely ever see faces except my own.

Not all of these are dangerous or weird. I'm a switch. CNC, vampirism, and masochism can all be practiced safely. My masochist awakening was in middle school where my face got hit with a bat and I had a double nosebleed. Glasses almost broke but the adrenaline felt good.

But the others get more into complex territory.

Incest is self-evident here. Got it from trauma.

Sexual cannibalism? Probably from my fucked up view of love and how it feels to be in toxic relationships with how that is my brain's normal.

Xenophilia? Who isn't a monsterfucker these days. Realistic dildos/vibrators make me feel uncomfortable while ones that are unrealistic look better to me anyway. Not a fan of tentacles, though.

I'm hesitant to really call these attractions because of how that makes me feel. I'm still working out my reactionary beliefs that think that discomfort is a sign of inherent badness. I think I'd need more time to do that.

But, it makes me think that had I not grown up in a fundamentalist family that never spoke of sex or even considered it something to really be enjoyed, I might have actually been able to work this out sooner without as much shame or guilt.

Because, well, seeing people say that I deserve to die for things I cannot control having as a part of me is both eugenics and a hit to my ego. Having these things that are more out of the norm is distressing, especially ones that make me anxious about ever being tempted to try any sort of contact or kink with. Cannibalism is a lot more harmful than being a monsterfucker.

I'll likely never do any contact with incest, sexual cannibalism, or whatever else dangerous I do end up finding about myself. I have my own resources for dealing with it.

#fluffy para

[kindnessoverperfection]

Imagine someone struggling with a mental health symptom, like sensory processing disorder, for instance. Now, imagine someone comparing them to an abuser, because, "this abusive person definitely had sensory processing issues imo, because they'd blow up out of nowhere over the tiniest things."

That's what a lot of the stigma against npd feels like.

For one, I think a lot of people don't necessarily understand what a symptom actually is, like with the above example. For another, even if someone actually does have a symptom, it's a whole different issue if they choose to display it in an abusive way--and the same goes for any other symptom in any other disorder.

My grandiose sense of self doesn't mean that I'm going around yelling at retail workers or exploiting people to feed my ego or turning every minor conflict into an emotionally blackmailing pity party. It means I have incredibly high standards for myself that I don't hold anyone else to, and when I inevitably can't measure up to my perfect, flawless, godly self-image, I crash very hard and have to fight back intense urges to punish/hurt myself.

My arrogance doesn't mean that I'm criticizing, cutting down, and silencing others. It means that I feel like I'm the best at everything and am incredibly over-qualified and that I can do anything, which results in me struggling to actually do anything, because if I run into a road block my mind will go "this is boring and not worth my time right now, let's drop it" instead of acknowledging that I just haven't learned how to do it yet, and if I try to learn, my mind goes "no, you already inherently know this better than everyone, so their flawed teachings will only corrupt your natural talent". It means constantly changing goals and dropping hobbies and feeling directionless and passionless because I'm so high above everything that I can't reach anything, and if I try to reach, it inevitably means a long fall and hard crash.

My sensitivity to criticism doesn't mean I harm people who I felt slighted by, or that I refuse to acknowledge and improve on behaviors that may be harmful to others. It means I withdraw from people or groups easily, keeping everyone at arm's length and hiding any part of myself I view as a "flaw". It means I beat myself up over absolutely nothing, and that I deny any perceived weaknesses and let them fester and grow and disrupt my life because I can't bear to acknowledge they exist.

My low empathy doesn't mean that I ignore people if they say I'm doing something that's hurting them, or that I inflict pain on others for fun, or that I refuse to listen to and compromise with loved ones. It means that I grew up surrounded by emotional blackmail and severe second-hand trauma, and to survive, my brain numbed out that part of itself. It means I don't feel much when someone around me is extremely upset, and that I usually prefer that people don't vent to me because I mostly feel vaguely anxious in response, and my urge is to distract the person, not listen or sympathize.

My need for excessive admiration doesn't mean that I threaten or guilt people into giving it to me. It means that my motivation plummets without consistent praise, and that I'm driven to do whatever gets me positive attention, even if it's dangerous or self-destructive. It means I feel lost and hollow and depressed without positive reinforcement, and I struggle to find self-fulfillment in many of my passions.

I don't really know how to end this post, but... I do hope this can help some people understand misconceptions about narcissistic personality disorder.

Also here's a post I wrote about subjective and emotionally-charged wording in the DSM.

#actuallynpd #put this on private for a while but im okay with it being rebloggable now

[coloricioso]

Ahh I used to suffer with Thanatophobia also. It used to be extremely disruptive in my life. The problem with a phobia is that no amount of logic or faith can alleviate it, because phobias are inherently illogical. You just feel the fear.

I eventually beat my phobia with exposure therapy in small doses. I'd look at books of skeletons in the library so I could put it back without keeping it in my house or having to look at it for long, I'd read Caitlin Doughty books and watch short videos on her Ask A Mortician YouTube, and in other ways study death and the various spiritual beliefs people have had around it for all of time.

It took years, but eventually confronting my fear in small, controlled doses helped me to settle my fear and let faith and logic take the forefront again. I'm not sure if this would work for you, but it did for me. It took a lot of time and patience and allowing myself to feel uncomfortable, though.

Thank you very much. You're very right, it's not a rational thought. My psychologist said, the only way I could feel calmer is that I find an answer inside myself, something that's inner to me... So she said I must do what you're telling me, research, do small exposure, and etc. But sometimes it gets difficult to begin (like there is a netflix documental about death and I couldn't watch it because I got anxious).

What is weird, is that I am not afraid of... death related stuff. I fear death if death equals unconsciousness. Like dying = "never existing again". But no one can tell death is actually that (like Socrates said, we can't claim to be wise about death). Also the idea of living = consciousness is tricky because when we're dreaming is not "reality" but we're still conscious of things that are not really happening.

I've suffered this since childhood and avoidance was my coping skill but it has turned out to be worst after covid pandemics. I had some few CBT sessions, but I guess I need more of them because the phobia has become more disruptive lately. It usually comes at night, or when I'm triggered by certain things.

I know people who have overcome this, but indeed is a very personal journey like my psychologist said. Like, the answer that calms someone else maybe won't comfort me. But it's comforting to remember that I'm not alone and that other people have gone through this. I just wish this can heal (at least most of it) instead of getting worse because sometimes the panic and the fear are so much that it turns into suicidal thoughts ("I don't want to live in this fear anymore"). Which contradictory as you can see because, like... hey but wasn't I afraid of dying in the first place? XD

I used to have severe social phobia when I was a teen and I succeded to overcome it on my own by self exposure in small doses. I dared myself to go out more and talk to strangers until it became an habit. So, if I managed that, I could handle this, but feels rough and still need help from others.

Another psychologist I spoke to once (from those SOS hot lines) said that I need to get out more, work out, see more friends and living beings... but pandemics make these things a bit difficult. And, this thing with Greek mythology is not helping. Instead of being a topic where I can share with friends it has become another source of stress and feels dangerous because it usually feels like it's dragging me back to depression. Like, it can't be fine that just beause I'm told some famous author I dislike is publishing a Persephone book that triggers severe depression thoughts. At the end, I'm just hoping I can make it through. I spent 2019-2020 in dark depression and 2021 has been a bit better, but I really wish I could live differently, with less fear. I think it's wrong to say things like "I'm giving up my love for greek mythology, hellenic polytheism, insert other stuff I like" because I get upset by the bad mass-media regarding those topics. It's not ok, but I fail to enjoy them so I'm conflicted (and that's where the religious faith doubts crawl into).

#personal #tw thanatophobia #tw death

[alwaysmychoices]

Is This Goodbye?

 Synopsis: Charlie and Ethan are running out of time, and if they don’t hurry, this toxin will take everything from them. But with so little time left, is it more important to keep barriers or to finally say how they feel?

this is the final part of the chapter 11 rewrite but is not the end of the series.

Chapter 17 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 7.2k

Rating: T (language)

The second Charlie saw Ethan approach her hospital room, she knew he had bad news.

She had seen him give bad news hundreds of times. Every time, he had the same expression, though the degree varied. He walked with determination, yet there was a silent reluctance in each step, like he would be happy to walk just a touch slower. The skin between his eyebrows crinkled together, and his lips formed a hard line. And his eyes…

They were particularly sad today.

In the short time before Ethan reached the glass, Charlie panicked.

She imagined a million scenarios, each worse than the last. She grieved each of them for her friends, her family, and herself. Even Ethan, too.

But once he reached her, she was relieved to see him. Happy, even. Especially because this could be the last time that she would face him like this, before this toxin had taken everything from her.

She paid a great deal of attention to him. He didn’t look like the same man who had kissed her goodbye this morning, and it was so hard to reconcile the two conflicting versions of Ethan. The one from last night had this radiance about him – like, for the first time in a very long time, the world was beautiful and full of possibilities. That man was happy. He made an extra cup of coffee in the morning and sacrificed his morning rituals just to stay in bed with her a little longer.

This man…

He wasn’t happy.

He was devastated.

His life had shattered. His world was chaos. And faced with the most important case of his career, he was failing.

And he was failing the woman he loved…

Looking at him, it was hard to imagine that the Ethan from this morning could ever come back. He was this now – and maybe even forever.

Ethan didn’t know how to begin. He imagined that there were eloquent, efficient words that could professionally and carefully inform her of the team’s new breakthrough. If he had an eternity, he wouldn’t have found them, though. The truth was that he didn’t want to begin. He didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want it to be true.

Charlie took a moment to weakly approach the glass, and when he remained silent, she offered a kind of sympathetic smile.

“Would it help if I guessed the bad news?” Charlie offered.

“Who said it was bad news?” Ethan asked reflexively.

He didn’t like the knowing smile she offered or how effortlessly she had read him.

He didn’t like that he wouldn’t be able to keep secrets from her in the coming hours. She deserved the luxury of compassionate lies and well-meaning falsehoods. She deserved to be spared, if just from the psychological toll.

“We’ve discovered the type of toxin,” Ethan finally elaborated, watching her intently. He told himself he was looking for new symptoms, but he wasn’t. He was studying her reaction and hoping that she could take it.

Ethan didn’t know Charlie’s limits like he knew his own, not really. She toed the line last year with the combined trauma of Mrs. Martinez, the ethics hearing, Naveen’s illness, and Landry’s betrayal. She got herself off that ledge somehow, though a few cracks remained. But this? Could she take this?

But truthfully, as her doctor, it didn’t matter if she could take it. She would have to.

“You have?” Charlie asked apprehensively. She was looking for the trick, for the subtle clue that would put everything together. Because, at first blush, this was good news, wasn’t it? They were one step closer to treatment if they identified the toxin. They might even have time to save Raf.

What was she missing?

How could this discovery earn Ethan’s somber expression?

Ethan took a deep breath and gave her one last moment of innocent hopefulness before he told her.

“It’s a maitotoxin,” Ethan explained, “One I’ve never seen before. And it’s still present and active on Danny’s body postmortem, including the surface of his skin, which means it’s still dangerous.”

It took Charlie about fifteen seconds to understand why Ethan had hesitated for so long.

There was no cure.

Charlie felt like the wind was knocked out of her, and she stumbled back, almost as if she were fighting this new information. She knew it was true. She had no doubts, yet… she couldn’t accept it.

So, she had to say it.

She had to announce it to herself and to the world. She had to make it real.

“I’m going to die,” she said it softly, so softly that Ethan almost didn’t hear through the glass.

But he did. She kind of wished he hadn’t.

Charlie belatedly realized that Ethan was talking.

No, he was talking to her.

He was saying something about how this wasn’t the time to give up because they were actively working on an antidote, but his words were so distant—nearly white noise.

All she could think was that she was going to die.

She would never keep her promise to Raf. She would never make it out of this room. She would never tell Kyra all the scandalous and sordid details of her private life. She would never sit on Ethan’s kitchen barstool and watch him make coffee in the morning. She wouldn’t even find out if they messed this up again or if, magically, it all fell into place.

All of her dreams and plans meant nothing now.

They would just be the private thoughts of a dead girl.

She could have wallowed in that for the rest of her life – it’s not like she had a lot of time left, anyway.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

And once she escaped those horrible thoughts, something worse occurred to her.

Charlie knew that Ethan Ramsey would never forgive himself for this. When she died, she would live on through his self-torment. He would twist and turn her memory until it became his personal hell. He would convince himself that he deserved it, and armed with his stubbornness and a conviction of his inherent badness, nothing could stop him.

She couldn’t fathom the thought.

Yet it felt so real, so decided, that she couldn’t stop thinking it.

It was there. It was true. It was practically inevitable.

And she felt some sense of responsibility in all of it. Like maybe it was her fault. Like she had sealed his fate with her own impulsive need to save others. Like she had betrayed him without even knowing it.

She couldn’t look at him when he was like this, eyes so wide and sad as he pled for her to maintain hope and ignore her own mortality. And she certainly couldn’t listen to him.

His voice didn’t even sound the same. It was too desperate for her agreement. Too grave. Too anxious. He needed her to live the same lie. It grated on her ears.

“Stop talking,” Charlie demanded breathlessly. She sounded like she had run a marathon just to command him. In her mind, she had raced miles and miles just to hold on to the world. But for Ethan, who watched her sway slightly with dizziness, her breathlessness was just another reminder of the horrible truth he couldn’t yet acknowledge.  

He didn’t dare speak. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

There was a pause.

Charlie realized she didn’t actually want to talk.

She didn’t want to do any of this.

She wanted to crawl back into bed. She wanted to fall asleep. She wanted to wake up tomorrow morning.

“Ethan,” Charlie began, her voice shaking. She silently started to count, promising that she would say it again once she reached three. She didn’t actually do it until she got to five, “I’m going to die.”

“Charlotte, don’t say that,” Ethan’s response was quick and desperate, so much so that the words blended together a little bit.

Charlie’s vision was hazy from the tears building in her eyes. Even then, she could see how intensely he needed her to pretend none of this was happening. She hated herself for not letting him have that.

She hated herself for being sick, for dying, for walking in this goddamn room and ruining everything. She hated herself for needing more, for loving him so much that she had to hurt him. She hated this illness. She hated Travis. She hated Senator Farrugia. She hated Raf for taking the brunt of the toxin and for leaving her here alone.

She hated everyone but Ethan.

But she really hated what she said next.

“I have to say it,” Charlie asserted, “Because it’s true.”

“Charlie, you can’t give up,” Ethan’s voice cracked, and he moved as close as he could through the glass. He was looking at her intently, searching for something familiar to latch on to in her green eyes. All he found was resolute determination.

It crushed him.

“I’m not giving up, Ethan,” Charlie told him. What little control she had over her body seemed to disappear. She was shaking. Breathing was harder. Tears prickled at her eyes. Everything hurt. “But we have to face this. You have to face this.”

“Am I not facing this?” Ethan retorted incredulously, looking like he had been insulted, “Am I not here, Charlie?”

Charlie shook her head vigorously, “No, you’re not facing this. You still think I will walk out of here unscathed, Ethan, and I won’t. Not even I can work my way out of this. I know that. I need you to know it, too.”

“Why?” Ethan snapped, “Why do you need that?”

Ethan seethed.

How could she ask this of him?

How could she give up when he needed her? When he was doing everything he could, how could she not just hold on? Why did she need him to face the one thing that would break him?

“Because I care about you, Ethan, and I need to know you’ll be okay.”

Ethan scoffed.

“I promised Naveen I would be there for you if he died,” Charlie explained forcefully. The way she spoke demanded his attention, and he begrudgingly gave it. “I need that same assurance, Ethan. I need to know that, when I’m gone, you will be okay. That you’re not going to waste years blaming and hating yourself for something that was never even your fault. I got myself in this mess. Blame me,” Charlie’s voice had changed subtly as she spoke, but it was clear now.

She was just as desperate as he was.

He felt it in her stare. He heard it in her voice. It surrounded her.

And it killed him.

When Ethan didn’t speak, she begged, “Please. I won’t let you use my memory to torture yourself.”

Ethan still didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to. The look on his face told her that he could never agree.

It hit Charlie like a blow, and she stumbled back just a bit. She looked betrayed, even disappointed in him. Ethan felt the urge to avert his eyes in guilt.

“Do you promise?” Charlie was very close to a new emotion – one that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She heard it in her tone, though. It wasn’t quite angry, not fully disappointed. But it was certainly commanding.

Ethan had to answer her. He knew he did.

But he didn’t.

He was so mad that she forced him to sit in this, that she broke down his carefully constructed barriers. He couldn’t save her if he felt the full weight of what was happening. His grief, his adoration, his fury – it would bury him.

He told himself that he was doing what was best for her.

But there was a small voice in the back of his head that said he was just running away.

“I can’t do this, Greene. I can’t have this conversation,” Ethan announced, evading eye contact. He was too ashamed to look at her, “I’ve been here too long. I need to get back to the team.”

Then he left – so abruptly and dramatically that Charlie couldn’t even get a word before he was too far away to hear her.

Charlie watched him in disbelief.

He… left?

She was dying, and he fucking left?

Charlie didn’t know what she was feeling, but it was something close to anger, fear, and sadness.

She couldn’t believe he would allow his stubbornness to deprive them of what little time they had together. It was one thing for her to not let him hide from the truth, but was it the same for him to run away? Could he do that?

Was there a right way to do any of this?

If there was, Charlie was convinced he certainly hadn’t done it.

She fumed. How could he leave when they were already running out of time?

Quietly, she remembered the spring when she sneaked out of his apartment in the early hours just to avoid saying goodbye. Was he doing the same thing?

Charlie thought of the note she wrote the night she left. She had written, “I love you,” and then crumbled the note up and taken it with her instead of letting him read it.

Once again, when this could be goodbye, she hadn’t told him.

She might never.

Charlie paced as she tried to clear her mind. She stumbled every other step, feeling increasingly dizzy, but she kept trying. If she kept moving, she wouldn’t have to face the silence again.

She had to keep going because, if she didn’t, she would hear Danny’s final, ragged breaths. She would see Raf’s exhausted, pale face as he mumbled his last words. She would hear her own screams…

And now, she would also see Ethan storming away from her in her final hours.

It was too much.

Charlie felt lucky when she heard someone approach the glass. It meant she would have a distraction.

But when she realized that the noisy steps came from her all her best friends coming to check on her, her feeling of good luck wavered.

They all looked so…

Sad. Aware of the threat. And politely trying not to talk about it.

Sienna’s face was red with tears, and something stabbed at Charlie’s heart as she realized that her friend had lost the man she adored and would likely lose even more friends by the end of the night.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Charlie wasn’t suffering in isolation. Everyone she loved was also suffering, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

“I saw Dr. Ramsey storming down the hall. Is everything okay?” Bryce asked as soon as he was in Charlie’s earshot, obviously apprehensive and drained from the traumatic afternoon. Charlie had never seen him not smile when he approached. It broke her heart that he only frowned.

No, Charlie thought, Ethan can’t handle his girlfriend’s mortality, so he’s acting like a dick.

But she didn’t say it. She didn’t want her last memories with her friends to be tainted with calling Ethan a dick or complaining about how ridiculous he was.

Instead, Charlie shrugged, “I don’t know, but they’re making progress. They’ve figured out the toxin, so that’s good news.”

“Really? That’s amazing! What is it?” Sienna’s face perked up with hope for the first time since the whole ordeal began.

Charlie hesitated and reluctantly admitted, “Maitotoxin.”

“Oh,” Sienna exclaimed with surprise, and it only took a moment for her face to fall with recognition, “Oh…”

An awkward silence fell between the friends, and Charlie’s eyes fell to the floor. She didn’t like the way they looked at her now, like they were memorizing her so they could remember once she was gone. Elijah’s face was soft with sympathy, a stark contrast to Jackie’s distraught and angry frown. Bryce was trying so hard to be positive that it seemed to break him.

And Sienna…

Charlie knew that, if she looked at Sienna right now, she wouldn’t be able to stop from crying, so she selfishly looked away.

But she couldn’t maintain it. She had to look. She had to connect.

She had to let them know how much she loved and appreciated them, even if they weren’t ready to acknowledge these as their final hours.

“I love you guys,” Charlie sniffed, wiping at her eyes before anyone could see her cry, “I’m so happy I met all of you.”

“We love you, too,” Elijah’s voice hitched, and Bryce put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“It’s really good that they’ve identified the toxin, Charlie,” Jackie spoke up, nodding firmly, “We’re one step closer.”

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed weakly, “One step closer.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Bryce added, trying to keep everyone optimistic, but not even his bravado couldn’t save the day.

Charlie nodded, “You’re right.”

Everyone tried to stay positive, including Charlie, and she hid her growing tears with awkward sniffles and wiping her eyes. They pretended not to notice and ignored the increasing pain in their hearts.

“How’s Kyra?” Charlie asked.

“She’s good… She made it out of surgery, and she’s recovering,” Bryce clumsily added, “We haven’t… we haven’t told her about this yet. We didn’t want to stress her, but…”

He trailed off before he could say that they would bring her to say goodbye if it became obvious that Charlie wouldn’t survive the hour.

It stung. It was just another reminder that she was actually going to die.

Charlie nodded her approval and expressed relief that Kyra was okay, and she didn’t make Bryce explain. She didn’t need him to tell her. His obvious discomfort and nervousness expressed everything she needed to know. As long as she could say goodbye to Kyra before the end, she was happy to let her stay blissfully ignorant.

She wished she could give all her friends that gift.

As they continued to talk, Charlie found the effort to stay strong for them exhausting. A dark, quiet thought whispered that at least her impending doom meant she could rest after taking blow after blow.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the diagnostics team coming down the hall, and she released a tiny sigh of acceptance.

She knew they didn’t have good news. There was no good news to be had. Whatever it was would be traumatic at worst and depressing at best.

Charlie was so tired.

She longed for her bed so much that she was fine with the fact that she would likely never get out of it. She was ready to let go. She was ready to give in, if everyone would just stand back and let her.

But they wouldn’t.

Charlie’s friends moved to allow June, Baz, and Ethan to face Charlie through the glass. Ethan was staring at her with eyes that begged her to look at him. She didn’t. She was too close to crying already. Instead, she looked at June.

“How are you doing, Charlie?” June asked, and once again, Charlie was comforted by her no-nonsense approach. It was nice to not be causing someone pain for once today.

“Okay,” Charlie shrugged, “No significant changes.”

June nodded considerately, “You know it’s Maitotoxin?”

“Yes.”

“And you know what that means?”

“Yes.”

June looked away just for a second – a second to brace herself. When she looked back, she was stern again.

“I brought some files if you would like to look through it.”

“I don’t want to,” Charlie rejected the offer, “But thank you.”

June nodded understandingly and handed the folder to Baz, who wiped a tear from underneath his glasses, “We’re working on it, Charlie.”

“I know, and thank you,” Charlie acknowledged.

She couldn’t help herself.

She had to look at Ethan.

Her muscles burned with the effort of looking away. She couldn’t fight it. She had to see him.

And she did.

And it…

It broke her and healed her at the same time.

Her Ethan.

She could see him now – the Ethan she loved, not just Dr. Ramsey. He was so sad… So devastated. And so eager for her to glance in his direction.

She loved him. She loved him so much.

In that moment, he felt like the only thing worth looking at. Her heart swelled so much that it felt like it might just burst. She couldn’t imagine staring at anything else.

“This isn’t the time to give up, Charlotte,” Ethan asserted, but it was a plea, really.

He hoped his voice still mattered to her. He hoped he still mattered to her after how he treated her.

“But,” Charlie spoke softly to the group, though she only looked at Ethan, “There isn’t an antidote.”

“Yet,” Ethan emphasized, “We’re going to work around the clock to synthesize one.”

“And you won’t be alone.”

Everyone’s head jerked in the direction of the familiar voice.

For a moment, Charlie wondered if she should add delusions to her growing list of symptoms. She looked at her friends’ expressions for confirmation that they saw it, too, and to her surprise, they did.  

But… how?

Aurora approached quickly, flanked with a team of doctors on either side. Just a step ahead of her was Tobias, and it was only then that Charlie recognized that he was the one who spoke.

And just like that, everything was different. Hope rushed down the empty corridor to the sound of a dozen footsteps.

Everyone gaped as the doctors approached. Everyone from Edenbrook was too shocked to say a word, so it was Aurora who spoke next.

“The best doctors and resources Mass Kenmore can offer at your disposal,” Aurora affirmed, and the doctors behind her nodded their agreement.

Charlie was stunned to silence.

“Tobias?” Ethan’s lips were parted in a silent gasp. He couldn’t believe it, and right then, he decided he didn’t care about anything in their past anymore.

Tobias was here now, and if he could save Charlie, Ethan would forgive and forget anything.

The only thing that mattered was Charlie.

“This is bigger than any rivalry. Greene’s not dying on our watch,” Tobias looked at Ethan like he understood.

Normally, this would have terrified Ethan. He would have wondered how Tobias knew about their relationship and if he would dare use it against the two of them in the name of their ongoing competition.  He would have feared for Charlie’s career. And he would have hated Tobias for pointing it out.

But Ethan felt none of that.

Instead, he said, “Thank you, Tobias.”

This startled Tobias, but after a beat, he accepted the thanks.

“Yes… Thank you. Both of you,” Charlie echoed, looking between Aurora and Tobias with shocked gratitude, “Aurora… I don’t even know how to express… I …” Charlie stumbled through her words, struggling to express her love for her friend and her gratitude and her relief to even know her.

“Then don’t,” Aurora cut her off, “Thank me by hanging in there, okay?”

Charlie nodded weakly, “I’ll try.”

“We've set up basecamp in the laboratory. We can take you there now,” June offered.

“Anyone else who wants to join us is welcome,” Baz added.

“Count us in. Chemistry was always my strongest subject in college,” Elijah said, earning a nod of approval from Baz.

Sienna pushed her way to the glass, her teary eyes fierce and piercing as they found Charlie, “Don’t you dare die. No comas, either. Just… hold the line, you hear me?” Sienna demanded.

“I hear you,” Charlie confirmed as strongly as she could.

Aurora pulled Sienna from the window and gently lead her away. The others said their goodbyes and hurried after June and Baz to the lab.

Only Ethan stayed behind.

Charlie stared at him in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“I realized you might need me here more than you need me with them,” Ethan confessed, taking another step towards the glass – towards Charlie.

He didn’t quite know where to start. He was ashamed of his behavior – of his rude cowardice. He was haunted by that last look she’d given before he left, like she knew he would let her down.

And he didn’t want to be that man.

He wasn’t that man.

He might not be able to save her, but that wasn’t what she needed from him. He knew that now.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie,” Ethan said it all at once, like a deep sigh he needed to release. And he did. He had to apologize. He needed her to not hate him.

“For what?” Charlie asked apprehensively. She realized that she was holding her breath as she waited. She wanted to forgive him so very, very badly that she was terrified he wouldn’t say the right words, that this would somehow be ruined.

But really, even if he had made every wrong move, she wasn’t prepared to let him ruin it. She would have forgiven him no matter what he said.

“For everything,” Ethan swallowed heavily, casting his eyes low with humiliation, “For storming off. For not listening to you. for hiding when I should have stood with you.”

He twisted his face, trying to hold back the floodgates of emotion as he added, “You’re asking for something that’s very hard to give, Charlotte.”

Charlie was crying.

She didn’t bother wiping away the tears as she sadly smiled, “I know.”

“But you deserve to ask,” Ethan made himself look at her, even though he wasn’t sure if he even deserved to, “Because you’re right, Charlie. You’re always right.”

Charlie laughed softly. That was the kind of thing she always wanted to hear. If he had told her any other time, she would have stored those words and brought them up time and time again. She wouldn’t get to now, though.

“I forgive you, Ethan,” Charlie quickly corrected, “Actually, no. I don’t. Because I don’t need to. I don’t care. You were a dick, but I… I don’t blame you. I’m just happy you’re here now.”

Ethan shook his head, knowing he didn’t deserve anything she said, “You’re too easy on me.”

“No,” Charlie tentatively held her hand to the glass, “I’m not.”

She offered a small, playful smile – the kind that always filled him with happiness, even now. She whispered, “I knew you were an asshole when I picked you, Ethan.”

He didn’t deserve Charlie.

But he placed his hand on the glass and smiled anyway.

He was supposed to leave now. They both knew it.

But he stood still.

He was devastated to look at her like this, alone and scared. He could see the exhaustion etched in her face, and he knew she hadn’t slept. He doubted she had sat for more than hour all together today. She was so stubborn… And so isolated…

“Can I stay?” Ethan asked impulsively.

Charlie jerked in surprise, instinctively taking a small step back. He missed her proximity immediately.

“Won’t the team miss you?” Charlie asked.

“I don’t care. I want to be here with you.”

Charlie hadn’t thought that there were right words to say. She thought that this situation was too shocking, too dramatic to have anything “right” about it. But she felt differently now. Because those were the right words to say.

She didn’t speak immediately. She didn’t know how to. She was too overcome with emotions she didn’t even recognize. It was harder to breathe. She felt like something was breaking inside of her – some resolve, some barrier. It flooded her until her limbs felt heavy and her mind exhausted.

She was falling apart. She felt it. Ethan saw it.

“Please,” Charlie begged him to come inside.

Ethan nodded emphatically, and he assured her it would be just one minute. As he rushed into his hazmat suit, he was tempted to be reckless with the remaining procedures. Time with Charlie was precious, and one minute felt like too long to wait.

It took about 65 seconds for Ethan to safely enter the hospital room.

Ethan only took one of the following seconds to complain about how slow he moved and how much faster he needed to go to get to her, but he was quickly distracted from those criticisms.

Because Charlie was there.

After hours of staying apart to maintain boundaries and leaving her to struggle on her own, Ethan could finally hold her.

Ethan wordlessly enveloped Charlie in his arms, and she fell deeply into his embrace until he was the only thing keeping her up. She shed the pretense of strength and stability. When Raf crashed and abandoned her in this room, she almost wallowed in the full effect of the night – the pain, the sorrow, the fear. But there was still a part of her that pushed Ethan away for his own good, sacrificing what she wanted for the greater effort. Now, even that was gone.

Charlie succumbed to the darkness.

And really, it was kind of a relief.

She sobbed into his chest, and Ethan held her as tight as he possibly could without breaking her. He wished he could give her all of his remaining strength. She needed it more than he did.

“It’s okay,” Ethan whispered, tracing a soothing pattern on her back, “I’m here.”

“I missed you so much,” Charlie managed breathlessly.

He squeezed her, but he wasn’t sure if he did it to reassure her or to prove to himself that she was really there.

Once her sobs grew softer, Ethan pulled away enough to wipe the tears off her red-stained cheeks. He hated the hazmat suit for keeping them apart. He wanted to feel her skin, her warmth.

“I wish you could touch me,” Charlie told him, a spare tear rolling down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb.

“So, do I,” Ethan affirmed with a sad smile.

She swayed softly in his arms. Her dizziness, coupled with her exhaustion, made it hard to stand. Her eyelids were heavy, and her eyes were bloodshot from hours of tears and not a minute of sleep. She demanded a lot from her body, and it was determined to get its revenge on her.

Though he knew she hadn’t, he asked, “Have you slept at all?”

Charlie shook her head, “I tried, but um…” Charlie had to stop and hold her breath for a minute, too choked up to continue. For anyone else, she would have left it at that, but for Ethan, she bore the pain and explained, “I tried after Raf crashed… And I… I was too afraid I wouldn’t wake up again, and I wasn’t ready.”

Oh.

Ethan swallowed heavily and nodded thoughtfully. He didn’t dare speak. He knew he would break if he did.

His beautiful, wonderful Charlie didn’t deserve this…

“How is Raf?” Charlie asked apprehensively. She doubted she would like his answer.

“He’s holding on,” Ethan told her, “He’s in a coma.”

Charlie knew that was the best she could ask for, so she accepted it quietly.

“Are you tired, Charlie?”

Charlie let out a deep breath as she admitted, “So, so tired.”

Not just physically, either. She was drained completely – emotionally and mentally. The only thing that kept her going was her determination, and even that wore thin.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Ethan suggested softly. When she hesitated, he added, “I’ll be here to make sure you wake up.”

Charlie knew he couldn’t really make a promise like that, but she believed it anyway. She needed it.

Charlie accepted his hand and allowed him to lead her to the bed. As she sank into the mattress, he carefully followed. His arms encircled her, and her head fell comfortably and familiarly to his shoulder.

If they pretended, it almost looked like a normal night in his apartment.

“I think your bed might be just a bit more comfortable,” Charlie whispered playfully, earning his chuckle.

She liked to watch him laugh, even through the bulky hazmat helmet. In fact, she liked almost everything about him.

“Can I tell you something I regret?” Charlie asked, much to Ethan’s surprise.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Then, yes, you can,” Ethan affirmed, hiding his own anxiety.

Everything about this night felt final, like the last chapter of his favorite book. Every time they had a “last” anything, Ethan felt closer to the edge.

“If I could go back, I would pick you all the times I almost did.”

“I wouldn’t deserve it.”

“I don’t care,” Charlie shrugged. She was smiling, but it didn’t reach her sad eyes, “You don’t have to deserve me, Ethan. I wasted so much time thinking that, if I couldn’t have you, I had to stay away until I moved on. And I never moved on, not even for a minute.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Ethan felt like a fool for all his stubborn, ‘ethical’ arguments. He’d just been hiding, and because of it, they were deprived of so much. “I wish I could take it back, Charlie. I would take a million more months with you.”

This time, when Charlie smiled, he knew it was real.

And she knew she had to tell him. Anxiety built in her chest, and for a terrifying moment, she wondered if she as alone in loving him, if she had always been the foolish, love-struck girl. If he still didn’t need her like she needed him.

“Can I tell you another regret?”

Ethan nodded his consent.

“I should have… I should have told you I loved you the second I felt it.”

The world stopped. Time wasn’t counting down.

Now, it was Ethan’s turn to stop breathing.

“When was that?”

“The spring, the night I left you before you could leave me. I wrote it on a note that I was going to leave for you, but I took it with me instead. I thought it help me move on if I never told you,” Charlie admitted.

She was very aware that Ethan hadn’t said it back yet, and she watched his lips intently, waiting for three words to fall out of them.

But Ethan was distracted.

Because, if he had known, everything would have been different. If she had left that note, he wouldn’t have been able to stay away. He ran away and hid from her for his own safety, to keep him away from her. If he had known that she was suffering, too, he would have stayed.

He could have been happy with her all this time.

All it would have taken was for one of them to say that they loved each other.

“I knew then, too…” Ethan still seemed lost in his own head as he spoke, “I spent every night in the Amazon wondering if I would ever stop.”

“Did you?” Charlie was so afraid of his answer she almost hoped he wouldn’t say anything. That way, she ran no risk of being crushed.

“Never.”

He loves me.

Charlie shouldn’t have been shocked, but she was.

And she was so… so…

So in love with him. So overwhelmed.

Charlie began to cry, hiding her face in Ethan’s shoulder as she mourned. She cried because of how much she loved him. She cried because they had all this time and never told each other. She cried because she wouldn’t get to love him for decades. She cried because this was still the end.

Ethan held her tight and fought off his own ragged, dangerous breath. He didn’t know how to breathe anymore. He was so sad but so happy. So distraught and so relieved.

He should have told her before. In his apartment, on the balcony with a bottle of wine. When she was smiling at him. When her eyes reflected the glimmering cityscape and stars. When she was happy and safe.

“You know,” Ethan murmured, “My dad says I would be an idiot to ruin this because you’re the best thing to ever happen to me,” Ethan wasn’t quite sure why he told her this story, but he just knew he wanted to make her smile, “I told him that I already had once, and he said I was an idiot.”

Charlie laughed softly through her tears. She could imagine it, and she didn’t disagree with Alan.

“My mom found a picture of you on the internet after I moved here. She warned me not to get too close to you because you were too handsome and smart for your own good,” Charlotte murmured. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice, but he was relieved to have the distraction.

“You know, it was pretty strange you claimed to be such a ‘fan’ but had no idea what I looked like,” Ethan teased.

“I was a fan of your research. Was I supposed to keep a poster of your face on my wall?”

“I’m just saying that my picture was in the back of the book.”

“I was too busy reading it to check you out, Ethan.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, and Ethan smiled.

They didn’t say a lot after that, just a few murmured words and the occasional joke. Despite her best efforts to stay awake and enjoy her time with Ethan, Charlie fell asleep. She finally felt safe enough to sleep.

Even after he realized Charlie was asleep, Ethan held her. He wasn’t ready to let go.

He wanted to hold her through the night and keep her safe. He wanted to keep his promise and make sure she woke up in the morning.

But he needed to get back to the team and fight for her while they still had time left.

Ethan reluctantly untangled himself from Charlie, and before he left, he whispered gently that he loved her.

Ethan followed the decontamination procedures methodically. It gave him something else to think about, somewhere for his mind to hide. Once he was done, he slid back into his white coat and started walking down the hall to the lab.

But he didn’t make it there.

Every step, his feet felt like lead. His heart raced. His eyes watered. His breath was irregular.

He had to stop. He had to… crash.

He fell to the linoleum floor with a thud that echoed down the empty hall. He leaned his head back to the wall and begged his body to stop, to just let him focus. He searched for those barriers that kept him safe, but they were gone now.

He loved Charlie.

And she was going to die.

Ethan succumbed to the weight of it all as he sobbed into his hands. It took everything from him, so when the tears stopped flowing, he felt hollow and empty. He was alone. And he missed her.

As soon as he could fathom it, Ethan stood. He walked into the bathroom and splashed his tear-stained face with water. His reflection was so unfamiliar – so distraught and devoid of life – that he avoided looking at it at first. He forced himself to level his gaze with his reflection, and he commanded that he get his shit together and be a good doctor. It didn’t matter if he was sad. All that mattered was that Charlotte survived. He would give anything for her.

Using that as fuel, Ethan marched into the lab.

Everyone was surprised to see him, and they hardly kept it to himself. Even June gaped in alarm. No one expected him to leave Charlie’s side, and they worried what it meant that he had.

“How is Charlie?” Baz asked immediately.

“She’s resting. Heart rate still normal. No obvious deterioration,” Ethan ignored their astonished stares and walked to the half-empty pot of coffee in the corner of the make-shift lab. He poured himself a cup and winced at the taste, “Who made this?”

“I did,” Tobias confirmed.

“Makes sense,” Ethan muttered. If Tobias caught it, he let it slide.

He forced the rest of the cup down, reasoning that he needed the caffeine more than his taste buds needed satisfaction.

As soon as he finished his coffee, Ethan asked for an update and where he could help. Tobias told him about their progress and invited Ethan to work with him. Ethan obliged and fell into the project quickly.

The team benefited from his presence, even if they couldn’t believe he was there.

As they worked, Tobias finally said, “So, the resident, huh?”

Ethan shot him a warning look, “Shut up.”

“I’m not judging.”

“You are, and I don’t care. After we finish this antidote, you have all the time in the world to judge me. Save it for then.”

Tobias raised his hands in surrender and got back to work.

---

Charlie woke the next morning to a sharp, stabbing pain ripping through her stomach. She yelped in pain and instinctively doubled over, silently begging her body to just release whatever the fuck this was. She reached for Ethan beside her but found the bed empty.

As another wave of pain hit her, Charlie longed for Ethan’s reassuring presence but was quietly relieved that he didn’t have to see her bitter end. And anyway, he kept his promise. She woke up this morning.

“Charlotte!”

She recognized Ethan’s voice, but her vision was too blurry to recognize him on the other side of the glass. He was just an outline, but he was the tallest outline out of the group. So, Charlie reasoned it had to be him rushing through the decontamination tent to get to her. A handful of people followed.

Charlie dug her nails into her arm to distract from the pain, but she only ended up drawing blood.

Once it was finally over, she fell back into the bed feebly.

Ethan anxiously approached and demanded, “Are you okay?”

Charlie faintly nodded her head in response, and Ethan released a sigh of relief.

“What’s going on?” Charlie murmured, struggling to keep her eyes open. She needed sleep. She needed relief.

“We did it, Charlie!” Charlie recognized the voice before she recognized Aurora’s form in the glass.

“What?” Charlie’s mouth felt dry, and the word came out cracked.

“We have an antidote, Charlie,” Ethan explained. While she tried to identify Aurora out of the crowd, he had made it to her bedside and was sitting in the chair beside her, holding out his hand for hers.

Charlie didn’t understand.

She had to be imagining this.

But people were talking. They explained the miracle of the formulation and how the antidote worked. She only picked up every other word, but she got the gist of it.

It was real.

They did it.

“Did you give it to Raf?” Charlie breathed as soon as it all clicked together, cutting off someone else. She looked to Ethan like he was the only one she trusted.

“We did,” Sienna confirmed, “We haven’t seen any change. It may have been too late…”

“But we haven’t seen a decline, and that has to mean something,” Elijah chimed in.

Charlie fell back into the bed just a little bit farther. She was relieved he was still alive, even if he might not be by the end of the day.

“Charlotte,” Ethan’s voice was tender, nearly begging as he asked, “Give me your arm.”

Charlie obliged, but her body was so weak that it shook when she held it out. Baz came to her side and steadied her as Ethan prepared the shot.

As Ethan smoothly slid the needle into her skin, he told her, “It’s going to be okay.”

And for the first time, Charlie believed him.

TAG LIST:

@honeyandsunfl0wers @jens-diamondchoices @desmaranj @octobereighth @flyawayboo @fanficnewbie @togetherwearerapture @perriewinklenerdie @noboundariesplease @paulfwesley @x-kyne-x @caroldxnvxrs @paisleylovergirl

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#ethan ramsey #choices #choices stories you play #play choices #open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart 2 #angst #dr. ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey

[chaos-burst]

#29 for beauyasha or any ship with molly you like

29. Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

Essek has never kissed anyone. 

The problem with being a prodigy is that you develop certain expectations of yourself and it becomes near impossible to try something new in front of another person that you might not immediately excel at. 

That is the inherent flaw with kissing. 

Another person is, by kissing’s nature, very present. Not only present, but involved. Kissing someone without knowing if you’re going to be good at it sounds like a terrible ordeal. 

There is no way he can try kissing by himself. Not that he’s particular interested in kissing just for the kisses’ sake. But there might be a particular person who makes Essek’s potential disastrous kissing skills a nuisance. 

When Mollymauk Tealeaf waltzed into his life with the rest of the Mighty Nein Essek was straight up offended by him. But as it turned out, there are many fascinating qualities about Mollymauk that Essek finds endlessly captivating and even impressive. 

While he carefully builds his image and upholds his reputation where ever he goes, Mollymauk simply doesn’t care what people think of him. He is just himself, unapologetically and oftentimes obnoxiously so. Essek isn’t even sure who he really is under all the pretense and the lies. 

Mollymauk also doesn’t care for the future in any capacity. While Essek despises his culture’s obsession with being reborn, Mollymauk lives every day as if it might be his last. No regrets. No holding out for a future that might never come. Essek wishes he could live like this. 

He watched Mollymauk for too long. Now he cannot look anywhere else. 

Sometimes Essek wonders if Mollymauk finds him endlessly dull. But then Mollymauk sits down next to him, calls him “mage boy”, bumps Essek’s shoulder with his, winks at him, lays out tarot cards for him and calls him “too pretty and smart for his own good”. 

Essek files it all away and by now it has surmounted to an incredibly big part of his brain that is only occupied with Mollymauk Tealeaf. And kissing Mollymauk Tealeaf. 

Maybe that is due to the fact that Mollymauk talks about things like kissing and sex a lot without considering that not everyone around him is so open about things like this. 

Mollymauk has kissed so many people. He’s probably very good at it--a fact that Essek also files away and that makes his cheeks darken and his pulse speed up when he thinks about it for too long. 

At some point, when he arrives at the “Xhorhouse”, as it has been called, Jester shouts up the stairs: “Molly, your boyfriend is here!”

Essek is very tempted to teleport away right there and then. But he keeps his face neutral, ignores his hammering heart and leaves his floating spell at the door as he steps into the house that is, by now, so familiar to him. 

“Hey Essek, how are you doing?”, Jester asks with a friendly smile as if she didn’t just grab Essek’s insides and twisted them into an anxious knot. 

“I am doing alright, thank you. I hope everything is going well?”

“Sure! We’re off to do some super secret crazy shit and Molly has to stay home because he might be in danger if he comes or something, Beau explained it all but I didn’t listen all the way to the end. Anyway, there are cupcakes in the kitchen and there’s water in the hot tub if you want to take a bath or. You know.”

Jester grins at Essek and winks multiple times in a row. Essek clears his throat. 

“So, should I stay here in case Mollymauk gets into trouble?”, he asks and regrets it immediately because Jester’s face lights up with a mischievous energy he’s come to know in these past few months.  

“Yes, please keep Molly safe for us, Essek. Be his bodyguard. Don’t let him out of your sight!”

“Not like he ever does”, a blunt voice comes from their left and Beau stands there with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. 

“I am certain I don’t know what you’re implying”, he says stiffly. Beau snorts.

“Sure you don’t. Ok, Jes, you ready to go or what?”

Essek watches them go and takes a deep breath as the door closes behind them. He’s unsure what to do. Maybe he should just go again. But Jester said Mollymauk might be in danger. 

He can only assume that it has something to do with the group looking into this moving city in the astral plane and Lady Vess Derogna. 

“Do you want cupcakes? Jester left about twenty in the kitchen.”

Mollymauk’s voice rips Essek out of his thoughts and for a second he forgets that he already discarded his floating spell so he does a very awkward little sidestep and a hand gesture that amounts to nothing. 

Truly, he is a prodigy at interacting with others, there is no doubt about it. 

“I don’t think I ever had a cupcake. Is it a cake in a cup?”

Mollymauk looks delighted and Essek’s stomach does some very impressive gymnastic figures he didn’t know were possible. 

“You are delightful in your ignorance. Come on, let’s get some cupcakes into that pretty mouth.”

Pretty mouth. 

Essek stands in the hallway for a good fifteen seconds before his brain has rebooted itself and he is able to follow Mollymauk into the kitchen. It turns out that cupcakes are not cakes in cups, although Essek isn’t sure why they are called like that. 

Mollymauk says it’s because they’re small. Essek says that there are big cups. Mollymauk laughs at him for a good minute before holding out a cupcake with pink frosting and colorful sprinkles on top for Essek to bite into. 

Essek stares at it, then at Mollymauk’s hand, then at Mollymauk’s face. 

“Try it”, Mollymauk urges. 

“Can I... hold it myself while I try it?”, he asks and hopes that his cheeks haven’t turned a darker shade of purple. Mollymauk grins and shows off his fangs and Essek swallows. 

“No. I can’t trust you to hold this cupcake. Take a bite, don’t be a spoilsport.”

Essek takes a bite and it’s ridiculously sweet. It tastes similar to what Jester’s voice sounds like when she messages him in the middle of the night asking if he’s read any good “smutty books” lately that he can recommend to her. 

Mollymauk puts the cupcake down on the table and before Essek can react there is a finger right in his face and Mollymauk’s thumb brushes away some pink frosting from his upper lip. Essek doesn’t know what to do as he watches Mollymauk licking his thumb without breaking eye contact. 

He’s not prone to swearing but right now he feels like, for the first time, he really understands Beauregards need to say “Fuck” very loudly. Mollymauk’s eyes drop down to look at Essek’s lips and he wonders if he still has some frosting somewhere in the corner of his mouth. 

Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, spy, double agent, magical prodigy, genius, traitor, war criminal, all this means nothing right now, in this untidy kitchen with a half-eaten, pink cupcake on the table and Mollymauk staring at Essek’s lips like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. 

Essek can’t help but look at Mollymauk’s lips, too. 

He never wanted to kiss anyone before, but he desperately wants to kiss Mollymauk Tealeaf. 

For a second Essek wonders if there’s magic involved as his body moves forward as if it is pulled by invisible strings. Mollymauk, like a magnet, reacts just in kind and Essek has barely any brain capacity left to be concerned about his lack of kissing practice when a pair of slightly chapped, warm lips brush against his. 

He probably tastes like pink frosting. 

Mollymauk’s hand sneaks to the back of his neck and Essek can’t do much aside from following Mollymauk’s lead. It’s probably clumsy and not at all skillful but Mollymauk makes a contented sound and sighs against Essek’s lips and all he wants is to be closer and have more of that. 

He doesn’t know for how long they kiss but when they pull away Mollymauk licks his lips and his cheeks are a way darker purple than the rest of his face. 

“Been waiting to do that for ages”, he rasps and Essek’s heart does big leap against his ribcage. 

“I never did this before”, he admits and feels very exposed for saying it. 

“Do you want to do it again?”, Mollymauk asks. 

Essek finds himself nodding. 

“Although it is very... disconcerting to do something I am not yet very good at.”

Molly grins and there’s something reckless about it. 

“Oh, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.”

#shadowmauk #critical role #critfic #essek thelyss #mollymauk tealeaf #essik #mollymauk #fanfiction #text #screeching into the void #cr spoilers #slowly going backwards through some prompts every time i feel a sliver of creative energy

[freddieofhearts]

Bye bye, dears (for now!)

I know there have been a lot of rumours and some posts about me leaving, so here I am to set the record straight and say a quick ‘au revoir’. This post is long, and I don’t expect everyone to read the whole thing—if you just want information on how to keep in touch, or about access to my removed fics, scroll to the bottom. ⬇️

*

Why are you leaving?

Firstly, of course I’m not leaving Freddie. This is just an ongoing hiatus from the social side of fandom, because while I have some incredible friends here, who have done all they can to support me and have made this experience wonderful in lots of ways—it’s also true that the social space has become more and more toxic for me.

I get a wild amount of hate. Despite never having my ask box enabled on here, people create new accounts just to message me and tell me all the problems in this fandom are my fault, that I’m faking being sick, that I should kill myself, that I’m fat, etc. I also very regularly get hateful comments on AO3.

Obviously I realise that I’m not the only one who receives these cruel attacks, but it’s become increasingly hard to handle them—especially as some people (‘real’ accounts, not faceless anons) do continue to blame me for wider problems in the fandom. It makes me feel consistently sad, anxious, and paranoid, so that I can’t focus on anything Queen-related that I enjoy.

More pressingly, it’s affected my mental health, which is—imperfect at the best of times. As I’ve occasionally alluded to in older posts on this blog, I have a history of anorexia, OCD, PTSD, and some other overlapping issues. Most people who know me in the fandom are also aware that I’m ‘clinically extremely vulnerable’ to Covid-19, significantly immunocompromised, and have been isolating at home for eleven months.

The combination of all of these things + the constant toxic messages has really been triggering me, and leading to an uptick in disordered behaviours, which my body cannot sustain. Every new instance of hate from an anon—every time there’s another indication of groups in the fandom wanting to ostracise me further—my reaction is deeply self-punitive and unhealthy. Ultimately I need to be out of this environment for, at least, a protracted period. My therapist, my partner and my close friends in the fandom support this decision.

*

So, what went wrong?

In 2019, I expected to be an absolutely tiny blog in the Queen Tumblr landscape. The fandom was already well-established, and I have never worked to ‘build a following’ on here—I think I’ve linked my own fic a maximum of three or four times!—in fact, more or less the opposite. As I mentioned above: ya girl is nutty as a fruitcake. As a result, I often avoid extremely niche things in daily life which cause severe anxiety for me, Relevant examples here: I never look at my timeline. I never intentionally look at my follower number. Yup, it’s strange, I fully admit it, but it’s best for me to go with these things—usually. In Queen fandom, however, this avoidance both of analytic stats and of most direct engagement led to some problems... My followers grew without me realising, and way more people were reading my blog than I was aware of. I was still in a—“Wow, this fandom is very frustrating, and rife with ableism, racism, etc., so how do we fix this???”—mindset, and I wanted to share my opinions, sure! but I also thought I was sharing them with 15-20 like-minded people.

Now, intent is not impact, and I recognise that I was brusque, didn’t phrase things particularly sensitively, and absolutely did hurt some people by criticising the fandom so freely. I still regret this—and I regret just as much the fact that some assholes have used my criticising the fandom on my own blog as implicit justification for attacking authors. I have said on here many times that I don’t condone that behaviour—but I also think there’s some truth in the presumption that these anonymous malcontents felt my critiques somehow ‘permitted’ them to engage in abuse. For the first few months, though, I genuinely had no idea there was a link at all—and so I was initially slow to condemn this abusive behaviour in public, because I was taking it for granted all authors agreed it was shitty. It took someone directly telling me (shoutout to @a-froger-epic) that people had identified a connection between my posts and the anons, before everything fell into place.

I would like to offer my apologies to the fandom at large for not being more quick on the uptake about this, because I feel that had I realised sooner that these people were taking ‘inspiration’ in some way from me, it might have been easier to put a stop to it. It does seem that there is still a lot of confusion about whether I support them and which of their views I agree with. Let’s be 100% clear on this: I do not support the anonymous commenters on AO3. At times there is some, limited overlap between parts of their views and parts of mine, but even that is less than you may think—I often see anonymous comments from so-called ‘Freddie fans’ that I substantially disagree with.

Perhaps even more importantly: I do not support anyone who sends anonymous hate on Tumblr.

*

What’s all this about ‘overlap’ with the anons?

Let’s do a mini-summary of the myths vs. the truth. There are views I hold which are genuinely unpopular in the fandom—but which I own up to completely, and have never tried to hide in any way. I’ve never needed to use anonymous to share my opinions because I’m completely open about them! What people who don’t know me tend to have ‘heard’ about me, though, is usually a drastic distortion of my real opinions.

What people think I think:

- Freddie should never top.

- It’s okay to send anon hate if someone writes Freddie ‘wrong’.

- It’s more important to correct ‘wrong’ portrayals than to respect other writers.

- It’s inherently wrong to be more interested in band pairings than canon pairings.

- Freddie should be overtly written as a r*pe survivor/victim (and not doing this is wrong).

- Freddie should be overtly written as having an eating disorder (and not doing this is wrong).

- Kink fics are wrong.

What I actually think:

- I believe Freddie did have a strongly defined sexual identity with marked preferences, but I don’t think Jim Hutton lied when he said that Freddie topped. I believe Freddie did top, but this isn’t the time or place to get into my thoughts on why/when/how much. I do believe that my analysis of the sources relevant to this subject is as historically accurate as one can reasonably be in matters of sex (where historical accuracy will always be particularly limited and imperfect)—but I don’t think it’s morally wrong to write Freddie as topping more than he probably did.

- I don’t believe there’s only one ‘right’ version of Freddie (all others being ‘wrong’). I do believe it is possible to be more right or less right—but I’m also conscious of the fact that this scale of value is not one by which everyone measures fanfiction. As a result, then, I don’t think that any perceptions surrounding ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ justify sending anonymous, non-constructive criticism, or outright hate.

- I do believe constructive criticism is a good thing. I welcome and appreciate it myself; I have received it on my fics in Queen fandom, and it has made them better. I have been in writing workshops which included very forceful criticisms, and the value of such feedback has been intimately and immediately part of my life as a writer for years. However: in this case, I have accepted that my opinion differs from the general community preference, and so I no longer offer any constructive criticism (outside private beta-reading). I haven’t changed my view, but I’ve changed my practice to align with community norms.

- I do not think any single, individual writer has a personal responsibility to write about Freddie Mercury in any given way. That ranges from including the more distressing topics to which I’ve devoted attention (such as trauma)—to concentrating on ‘canon’ pairings like Jimercury—to, even, focusing on Freddie at all.

“Now, that doesn’t sound like you, @freddieofhearts,” you might be thinking. And I know it doesn’t; I think something I’ve done a poor job of articulating is the difference between how I view each individual fan—namely, as free to shape their creative experience at will, even in ways that I might find distressing or offensive; even in ways that you might find distressing or offensive—and the way I view the Collective. I think people have interpreted some of my critiques of ‘Queen Fandom’ as meaning something like: “You-in-particular, a specific Queen fan, are doing it wrong and should change everything about how you do it; also you don’t really care about Freddie.”

And—that’s not it. What any given fan, as an individual, does, isn’t a problem. And that can be true alongside—concurrently with—a multivalent critique of how the fandom is lacking in representation of Freddie’s life, with all that that (wonderful, deservedly celebrated, but also profoundly traumatic) life entailed. I still hold that view; I still have myriad problems with ‘the fandom’ (structurally, collectively, historically and presently—from the 1990s to the 2020s). Some of what I want to work on (away from the social life of fandom) is expressing those critiques with greater nuance, in ways that can’t be misinterpreted as shading any particular fanfiction author or subgenre of story.

In brief: I haven’t changed my mind, but I think Tumblr is an untenable environment in which to discuss the things I want to analyse, especially as there is an ever-present danger of hurting someone.

*

Can we keep in touch? Where is the fic?

I will drop by this account periodically to check out posts that friends have sent me, so you can always sent me a private message to ask for my contact details on the other app that I’m using now for fandom friends. Multiple Freddie conversations and projects are going on over there, off-Tumblr, with a much ‘gentler’ environment and no bad actors—I personally love it!

All my fic has been downloaded and saved. I don’t want to deal with constant harassment on AO3, but I’m happy to share a copy with anyone who missed it and wants to read/re-read something. I also saved everyone’s lovely comments and thoughtful con-crit, so none of that has been lost or erased.

Thank you to everyone who welcomed me to the fandom, made me think, taught me, shared with me, sent me into fits of the giggles, collaborated with me creatively, and otherwise made this one hell of a ride! Love you all. ❤️

#au revoir my dears #lil gay bby

[phoebehalliwell]

Also i remember that you did an essay on nextgen relationship to witchcraft ??

i would like an mini essay on how each next gen tap to their other half (whitelighter and cupid) ?🥰

[this is where i’d put the link to the next gen’s relationship to witchcraft IF I COULD FIND IT] rip lmao but yeah!! bc basically everyone in the next gen is a halfling so i feel like there’s really like A Lot here like witchlighters are already just like hella rare and then pj parker and peyton are very possibly the first cupitches to exist ever y’know what i bet i can find? my mini essay on cupids & whitelighters yeah boi so i think the primary distinction between whitelighters and cupids comes down to like. head vs heart. and i know whitelighters are like innately good people who want to help others through good deeds blah blah blah but there is an inherent Logic to the process. whereas cupids are just a lot more fuck around/find out. it’s the same thing with orbing vs. beaming orbing you think of a place and you’re there beaming you feel a place. if pj and melinda were to swap bodies neither of them would be able to teleport. so i think the way that they were raised/trained also impacts that a lot so let’s go chronological order and start with wyatt

so, full disclaimer here, i am going off my own writings here as there are some blanks left in canon (i.e. who has what powers) also i made leo a whitelighter again bc like. a) i wanted to b) melinda’s a witchlighter which would be objectively fucking weird if leo was not a whitelighter ik the comics had this whole think about ~latent whitelighter dna~ but like girl what. and then also c) and i’ve talked about paige and motherhood before but i really don’t think paige wants to whitelighter for her kids bc she doesn’t want to be viewed as like,, as business associate to them bc that’s weird it’s one thing for your brother in law to be your whitelighter it’s a whole new can of worms for your mom to be your whitelighter. on top of that paige is still a charmed one and a witch so like. she definitely does not have the time to be the entire halliwell family’s whitelighter. but leo’s right there just give him healing and orbing hell he loves being a whitelighter just reinstate him. like come on. amirite lads? it doesn’t matter if i’m right or not this is my story and i’m sticking 2 it. okay let’s rock n roll

wyatt powers are projection, orbing, orb shield, healing, telekinesis, telekinetic orbing and he is a half split mother’s a witch father’s a whitelighter. i mean i think wyatt was really definitely as like The Witchlighter like at magic school all that like yes paige is a witchlighter but paige did not go to magic school and grow up around a bunch of little witches i think teleportation powers are Insanely Rare for anyone who’s not a halfling so the fact that wyatt can just. orb. he can heal. like this is Insane. but unlike a dency type situation where like these powers are so rare they basically have to be self taught i think there are a good amount of whitelighters at magic school who can teach him how to master his skills there’s also paige and leo so like. he’s pretty much covered. that and the whole whitelighter thing just really does come naturally to him like he was doing all this batshit crazy stuff from the womb like he healed piper from the brink of death at like age two. wyatt’s whitelighter powers are a fuckin breeze. i also think wyatt sort of id’s a little more as a whitelighter than a witch just bc chris is like so witchy wyatt feels like okay i must be more whitelighter by default. like chris will go out demon hunting and wyatt just like. doesn’t really want to do that so wyatt think’s it’s because he’s just more of a whitelighter more of a pacifist by nature. it’s not really it’s more just like chris is fuckin crazy but it doesn’t really matter. i also think that since wyatt is one of the only people with healing when the cousins are in trouble they almost always go to him, which only sort of adds to the Whitelighter element. i also don’t think wyatt has had any charges yet bc like. he’s really young he’s like 22. but i think he definitely will i think that’s something he would want to have. i think the elders also have some slight reservations about giving him charges bc like. very high probability he will fall in love with them.

chris powers are telekinesis, telekinetic orbing, orbing. does not feel very whitelighter at all. i mean for starters, wyatt’s totally Stacked with whitelighter powers that he just seemed to immediately have mastery over chris not so much. and it’s also like. everyone in the family Expected wyatt to have healing and then literally no one expected that of chris. like he tried he read about it all that and whenever he would try the sisters would just be like it’s okay hey you know not everyone has healing healing it’s big like not everyone can master it paige couldn’t heal til she was like 30 it’s nbd so chris is like yeah :| okay :| but it kind of bothers him how it’s like. his family just knew he wouldn’t be able to do that. and beyond that i think chris really does have this desire to prove himself in the craft to prove he’s a strong, talented, capable witch (which he is) and that’s really where he directs his focus. the power he hones the most it telekinesis. orbing and tlk orbing kinda of take a back seat simply bc they just aren’t as strong of combative powers (however, paige let him in on the insider secret that you can orb hearts of demons so that’s p fuckin cool. leo like Freaked out when paige told him this because he’s just a kid!! he doesn’t need to be hearing all of that!!! and paige is like yeah, just a kid who fights demons, leo. he’s seen worse and chris just looks at leo like yeah i mean i have and leo’s like cool gonna go have another parenting crisis). basically while chris knows he is a witchlighter he very much does not feel like one. he identifies as a witch. full stop. (side note he does not know he was the time traveller who came back to fix the timeline and if he found out and found out that he convincingly posed as a whitelighter and people actually believed him i think he’d lose it laughing)

melinda powers are empathy, orbing, telekinesis, telekinetic orbing. i think melinda views her Main Power as empathy, i think melinda considers herself to be more of a pacifist. again, this is kind of in relation to chris, so it’s like considering yourself to be short bc your brother’s 6′5″, but like. melinda is short. and she is more of a pacifist. i think given her empathy which is technically a whitelighter power tho it is much power likely she inherited the power from her aunt phoebe, she’s not really like. a fighter or a powerhouse or anything i think she also inherited piper’s want of a normal life. in my writings melinda is actually a nursing student i mean she’s a freshman in college but like. she wants to be like a nurse or a doctor she hasn’t entirely figured out how that would work with her like. Witch Schedule. but she kind of doesn’t care?? like she has a full family of charmed ones. they can save the day by magical means; she can save them by mortal ones. she also just like as a fun fact with her empathy powers can diagnose things really well because she can just like. feel what other people are feeling. so yes i think she’s really more whitelighter than witch i think if people ever saw her out and about with her whitelighter (i gave her a new whitelighter that isn’t leo in canon explanation is the elders are kind of worried the halliwells are getting a bit too cliquey little bit too much of a feedback loop there and they don’t really have the best relationship to the elders so like. now that one of them has kind of broken off into her own path they’re like okay can we give her a new whitelighter. just to kind of make sure they don’t all hate us. out of canon explanation i think it’s more fun for melinda to have a whitelighter her age instead of constantly dragging her dad to davis). i also think melinda is the most likely out of any of the next gen to receive a charge, but again, this is like, way out bc she’d like. 18. i also think she would keep her whitelighter on speed dial bc i think she’d be Super Nervous about fucking shit up like so bad for the first couple while. like eventually she’d get the hang of it and be confident and capable in herself and her abilities but for the first bit she’d be like. so so so anxious like s1 piper need to have everything be perfect when it most definitely is not.

tamora powers are molecular combustion, healing, invisibility, psychic link with kat. so. tamora’s technically like only 1/4 whitelighter as neither of her parents are whitelighters, her maternal grandfather is a whitelighter and that’s it. so that’s why both her and kat are a little less whitelightery that the rest of the next gen tamora can’t even orb. which was like genuinely a shock as literally every other witchlighter in the family can orb, but she just straight up cannot. she can heal, though, and is the only one beside wyatt with that capability, so her whitelighteryness is still there. she just can’t orb. and then while molecular combustion as a power obviously came from piper, healing, invisibility, and even her psychic link with her twin are all very whitelighter-y. (side note, it is specifically the whitelighter part of the twins that give them this link just like how all whitelighters are linked to their charges, them being twins just like. amplifies it. it also allows kat to always be able to orb tamora to her side and sometimes orb her other places without ever seeing her but that bit still doesn’t work that great. so while part of it is a Twin Thing, it’s also a whitelighter thing, which is why like warren and sheridan do not share a psychic link. note pt.2 the girls powers were bound when they were kids bc they had i mean like p dangerous powers at least tam did but as established by the fact that paige could always orb despite having her powers bound, their whitelighter abilities were always active. kat could always orb, tamora could always heal, their psychic abilities stayed active.) and like, because of this it’s the same though i’m just leaving the parenthesis before i forget, tamora for the longest time had no offensive power the only thing she could do was heal. she was also kind of like the coward to kat’s fearlessness or even just like henry’s popularity. she’s the shyest out any of her siblings, a lot more reserved, she has anxiety, blah blah blah. so she never felt very witchy. she had her whitelighter power and her cowardice. and kat was off running around having a wild time and henry was reading about the most terrifying demons known to man shit that have clawed their way out of the underbelly of the earth and tam’s just like. like no?? stop??? oh my god??? and then around age 14 when the girls entered high school they unbound their powers and started to train them and tamora just really only felt more uncomfortable in her own skin bc like. molecular combustion, man. and piper would teach her like how to use her powers like okay you just really really angry and you throw out your hands like BAM and she blows up a chair and turns to tamora with that cute lil grin on her face like okay now you try and tamora just feels so out of place man. like her aunt piper is this fuckin powerhouse and this power is like. it’s just too much for her like she always somehow felt like there was some cosmic swap some mistake in the grand design where she and kat got mixed up somehow and she should have freezing and kat who’s bold and fun and brave and strong should be able to blow things up. because this isn’t her. this is too much for her, it’s too loud it’s too. strong. that being said, she’s always had a knack for it, which she doesn’t realize bc like. it’s a very rare power. but she was able to gain mastery over it faster than piper did in her day. so piper knows it’s not a cosmic mix up. she knows this is the power tamora was meant to have, and some day she’ll grow into it. it’ll just take time. but yeah. witchcraft is not so much tamora’s speed she doesn’t like. necessarily identify more with her whitelighter half (or fourth but whatever) but she does just. like she likes those powers more she feels more comfortable with them. i think if she were to body swap with kat she’d be perfectly fine at orbing too. in regards to charges she is Also 18 so again long way out i think she would be open to the idea but it would necessarily be something she’d like really really Want to do i think like her whole dynamic with peyton would really be her jumping off point for whitelightering but if she got someone who was a lot more just like. into making bad decisions i don’t think tam has the backbone yet to tell them off. 

kat powers are molecular immobilization, orbing, omnilingualism, psychic link with kat. absolutely no on the whitelighter front. yeah she can orb and is omnilingual doesn’t even register those as whitelighter powers. considers herself a witch through and through. is not wise, is impulsive, is reckless, is a witch. would never take a charge. if she did, she’d go on all their adventures with them bc that’s just the type of person she is. doesn’t to the vague, gentle guiding of a whitelighter she is not vague. she is also very close with chris bc they have such similar ideologies. but yeah. she’s not a whitelighter.

pj powers are levitation, astral projection, beaming, sensing love we have exited whitelighter territory and entered cupid territory i think pj very much identifies as Cupid-Witch i think she is Thee hyphenate i think she wholeheartedly embraces both parts of her craft as the eldest of her charmed ones set she does feel the need to like Set a Good Example she measures out all her potions ingredients perfectly and mastered spell writing from an early age she treats the craft with respect. she doesn’t necessarily treat the cupid practice with respect that’s not quite the right word there’s no dignity it’s all fun. bc love is fun!! her and parker have a running betting pool on various relationships in school. melinda would sometimes put down money, now that peyton goes to school with them she’ll also place bets. henry jr also does this despite having zero magical abilities to sense anything he thinks that makes it more fun. but yeah. pj views herself as cupid. she loves giving relationships the little Push they need to blossom. people think it’s because she has an advice columnist for a mom and they like trust her bc like. she’s nice and her dad’s a relationship therapist her mom’s an advice columnist and almost everyone has at least one friend that pj has had a hand in their relationship so if she sets something up they’ll trust her. the school newspaper suggested that she actually start an advice column or a matchmaking thing but she turned it down bc like. she doesn’t do remote, y’know. her cupid powers are very personal, she needs to see it irl all the move parts before she makes a judgement call. but yes. very cupid. loves saying it, too. people are like wow you’re so good at relationships she’s like yeah i’m basically cupid lmao. parker boos every time she makes that joke.

parker powers are premonition, beaming, sensing love. so parker definitely considers herself a cupitch not just a witch but she doesn’t go as far pj just bc that’s not like her mo. pj does have a slightly higher eq than parker a bit more of a gentle touch they stay neck in neck in their betting pool because of parker’s premonition power however pj knows her sister can see the future and frequently engages to change the circumstances. parker does meddle as much as her sister. and like yeah parker is p witchy she does focus a lot on combat she did turn her cupid ring into an athame bc like. fuck yeah. but she isn’t like chris or kat where she’s like I Am A Witch Full Stop she really does see herself as a cupid she had yet to like. Set Up a relationship like pj does but she doesn’t consider herself any less cupid for that she is a cupid that is who she is. she’d just like. a tiny violent one. 

peyton powers are telekinesis, beaming, sensing love. again kind of like parker where she still very much identifies as half cupid she just doesn’t do mayn cupid things. i mean she’s also like 14 so like give it time but yeah pj was ten and putting couples together on the playground like it was wild. and it’s not like parker where she doesn’t have the eq to do it like parker just straight up doesn’t know what to say to steer to people together she’d just be like hey u to r in love with each other so. have at it. like baby peyton could probably get it right in the very subtle classic cupid manner she’s just too shy. like she could not imagine just walking up to someone and talking to them lmao. especially not about love. and since the girls aren’t full cupid they don’t have temporal manipulation they can’t move through time nor can they slow it down to speak to people’s subconscious but if she could that’s what peyton would do. bc she does love love in the very true cupid sense she just like. like talking to people?? aaaaaa amirite lads.

#charmed #next gen #margaretsminiessays #wyatt halliwell #chris halliwell #melinda halliwell #tamora mitchell #kat mitchell #pj halliwell #parker halliwell #peyton halliwell #charmed next generation #💌

[piduai]

Hello. I remember you saying that you’re tall and intimidating, but I also remember you saying you were stalked on your way from work? Is harassment any worse in Japan than in Europe? Do you feel unsafe during commute for example? I know harassment on trains is a big deal in Japan and now they have female-only cabins… What’s your opinion on the current situation? I used to get harassed on the reg when I was younger and only recently it kinda got better in my town, but now I’m moving to Osaka in the end of the year, and this sudden fear hit me out of nowhere… I don’t mean this in a racist way when I ask about Japan specifically, it’s just that women’s experiences are slightly different in different countries.

yeah a while ago some dude insisted i go drink with him and followed me to the train station and after i told him to fuck off he told me he knows where i work and should be more careful 😑 and then a few days later i saw him walking past the place where i work. the stalking happened when i was in uni though, it was ugly and involved the police.

but these were isolated incidents. japan being as safe as it is is one of the biggest factors that made me decide to settle here. men hit on me on the streets and other public settings, they can come on super intensely in bars and clubs, i was grabbed and groped and forcibly kissed when walking down the street on nights out and other minor stuff, but it isn't the norm at all. most times you're left alone. i get off work at 10 pm so it's night time when i go home but i don't feel unsafe at all, when i pass by a group of young men my throat doesn't tighten with fear. cat-calling is not a thing here, at least i never experienced or witnessed it. it's actually other foreigners who are more annoying, with most japanese men they leave you alone if you tell them you're married but other foreigners are always either "well he doesn't need to know" or "i'm just trying to make friends". assholes.

i actually think that this sense of safety i feel in japan has spoiled me. a few years ago while in italy i felt actual, unadulterated fear when walking down the street at noon and a guy started coming onto me rather aggressively and yelling after i started walking faster. same kind of fear persisted when in france, and definitely when in eastern europe - i usually try to be home by 8 pm when there. last time i was there i dropped by a supermarket and this disgusting, pimply dude at the register attempted a few pick-up lines on me before scanning my items, and it was like 8.20 pm, and the rage i felt was unimaginable like my guy, it is dangerous for me, stop wasting my time or i'm gonna shake you. never happens in japan. i can be out at 11 pm, go buy a snack at 2 am, come home after a night out at 5 am, i feel equally safe. there's a dude on twitter who collects photos of people passed out after drinking in very public places, i've witnessed these poor souls countless times when going home after a night out myself, and they don't even get mugged. back in the small town i used to live people were feeling safe enough to leave their wallets in their bicycle front basket which they parked in public spaces.

as for train harassment, the most i got was randos hitting on me, i never personally experienced any groping or harassment on the trains. the truth is that the most common victims of chikan are girls in school uniforms, a lot of working women reported that the harassment stopped once they graduated high school. the other truth is that the women-only train cars aren't really respected... when i take the train i try to ride a women-only car and there's always quite a few men there.

not saying that japan is a safe heaven of rainbow butterflies, crime does happen of course, harassment does happen of course, assault does happen of course, and it's never an over-measure to be careful. crowds and public spaces inherently hold some degree of danger, even in a perfectly safe society your luck can bring you face to face with a deranged weirdo who decided to ruin your day. but if you base your sense of safety to what you're used to in europe (if you're european) then you shouldn't be too worried. a few things though: it is illegal to carry sharp stuff or pepper spray here, so if you're really worried about self-defense i'd suggest one of those safety keychains. and all i've said is *my* personal experience, things that i lived through and witnessed and observed, it can be wildly different for other people. i *am* tall and intimidating, that much is true, i have a "leave me alone" face and am mostly left alone. but i have friends much smaller in frame and more approachable, and i don't remember them being harassed on the regular either. and also goes without saying that it depends on the place, while during everyday activities harassment is rather low, it will grow tenfold if you go out in an entertainment area. it’s prudent to never walk alone at night in areas that have a lot of bars and clubs, each time i was alone in kabukicho, for example, incidents happened.

also, this is all based on my experience in tokyo/kanto. i've only been to osaka once and the vibe was identical so i don't think things are much different there, but you could ask queen @huehanya if you want, she should know better about osaka than me. it's alright to be anxious and over-think stuff in this kind of situations, good luck with your move!!!!

#anon

[ancientechos]

Hallow’s Eve

Emet-Selch/Arianna ♡ 3281 words ♡ eldritch au [modern au]

Did I...write even more...for eldritch AU...? Yes, yes I did. Proper fic coming...who knows when. My superpower is to write a lot about nothing.

Random little Halloween-themed fic! And another example of how I cannot do titles.

Has an appearance from @windup-dragoon Kiri and Hien.

Despite herself she --

Admittedly, very often, wonders if she’s too boring for her...very strange and impromptu roommate. Lover...? She supposes they are technically thus, at this point...

Though that is besides the, well, point.

It’s not as if they’re always home, though she admits they are...more often than not. Thus Arianna has taken to worrying she’s exceptionally dull to the eldritch creature...he’s simply too polite to say it.

(There is, of course, inherently something wrong with this assumption, but alas.)

“H-have you ever been to a party...?” The second the question finishes making its way past her lips, she regrets it -- it’s banal, not specific enough, absurd. Her suspicions are confirmed as Hades fixes her with a quiet, unimpressed stare. He plucks a grape from the fruit bowl before answering.

“Depends what sort of party, I suppose.”

Absentmindedly, she wonders what sort of “parties” he might have been privy to in the past...the only thing her mind can conjure is strangely fantastical images of odd creatures, one less humanoid than the next, eerie music --

She has to stop her mind from running off into the imaginary. Perhaps she’ll ask him later.

“Um -- w-what I mean is -- a -- ” The woman finds herself growing ever more anxious when she realises she doesn’t -- really -- have any point of comparison for what she wants to ask. For a moment, she fidgets her fingers together, then brushes a hand through a few strands of her hair. Her green gaze glances from her companion, still leaning casually against her kitchen counter, to the calendar on the wall in the hopes it might give her answers.

Unfortunately, it does not.

Somewhat blessedly, he does not interrupt her nervous fumblings as she struggles for words.This does not, however, stop her mind from being dangerously on the edge of wondering just how exasperated he must be --

“A-a p-party...?” Almost desperate to say anything at all, she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Yes?” She can practically see one of his eyebrows quirk without actually looking at him. “You mentioned a party already. I asked what kind.”

Never mind that the question had been decidedly implicit.

He sounds far more patient than she ever deserves, and she presses her palms to her face, hard enough that colours dance behind her eyelids. “Ah...” Why is she getting so worked up about this, in any case...?

“There’s nothing to be upset about.” Hades’ voice cuts through the fog and white noise threatening to overcome her. “We have all the time in the world. no?”

-- He’s completely right. She truly has not an inkling of an idea as to why this has made her so on edge. Is it the subject matter itself?

“Unless there was a party happening within the hour...”

“N-no, that’s not -- ” She’s responded before she can fully realise, with the wryness of his tone, that he’s being sarcastic. Of course she wouldn’t have asked him about something like this on such short notice. Slowly, she lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, her shoulders lowering from where they’d nearly surpassed the tips of her ears. What she wants to ask...

“What I mean is...a c-costume party...” She trails off as she pulls her thoughts together. “Some people...like to d-dress up as...strange creatures, o-or book characters...for parties. A-at this time of year.”

Not that she’s ever really gone to one. Twining a strand of curled hair about her right index finger, she finally turns to look at him curiously. Already, she can feel the strange, harsh energy from earlier dissipating simply from being able to speak properly.

“Mm. I suppose I’ve been to one of those before. Though not really any in the mortal realm, of course...” There’s a pause as he regards her. “I suppose that means there would be a great deal of people there...and you wanted to go regardless?”

She has to bite her lip before she can mumble a reflexive no. “I-I just thought...perhaps...you would be interested...”

“Hmm.” The sigh he exhales almost has her thinking he wants to reject her offer. But -- “You said people like to dress up? Maybe I could go as my true form...or something close to it.” There’s an almost malicious smirk that curls his lip, his head tilting slightly to the side. Arianna tries to ignore the way her heart thunders treacherously in her chest and absently prays the lighting is too dark to notice her nonsensical blush.

“I-I don’t think it would be a good idea to go in your...ah...o-other form...” She pauses, teeth sinking into her lower lip. “Wouldn’t you simply scare everyone away...?” She doesn’t need to be told twice to remember that...incident from before.

“That’s the point, is it not? You could enjoy yourself.”

She is not quite sure whether she’s meant to be touched or concerned, and thus settles for wavering uncertainly between the two.

“W-well, regardless...” She exhales nervously. “I think...if you wanted to go, it might be...best to go in...ah, c-costumes...?”

“Oh?” The smirk hasn’t faded for even a moment. “And what do you propose we’d go as?”

The we has her heart fluttering stupidly again, for no reason, as she brushes her fingers through her hair once more. “Um...that...” Blinking and shaking her head to try to clear it, she regards him with what is meant to be a critical eye, but simply gets caught up in his gaze again. “Ah...”

-- Now that she isn’t an anxiously flustered mess, he seems perfectly content with simply flustering her further. Pushing himself away from the counter, he approaches her to smirk fondly down at her. When she simply proves all the more wordless, he brushes a finger gently along her cheek.

“How about an angel and a demon?”

To say she would have expected a suggestion from him would be a lie...not to mention...the suggestion itself...? It’s enough to have her blinking up at him blankly, her nervousness for the moment forgotten.

“I-I suppose...but...h-how do you know what an angel looks like, anyway...?” Curiously, she eyes him. She can’t imagine he’s ever done much...mortal reading. Or maybe he has? Well, she isn’t home -- or even awake -- the entire time. She supposes it’s perfectly possible and within his abilities for him to have picked up any of the numerous books she has, or to even have perused the titles elsewhere. But something so specific as an angel and a demon? It’s an odd thing to think about...

“Hmm? Oh, that’s easy.” There’s a smirk on his lips as he casually slings an arm about her shoulders, leaning in close. Somehow, she manages not to turn away despite the blush threatening to overtake her yet again. “There’s one right in front of me, isn’t there?”

It takes a moment for the words to process, and even longer for the precise meaning to dawn upon her. But when they do --

She wouldn’t be surprised if the heat that radiates from her face could run a generator.

“Y-you -- !” she stammers uselessly, turning away from him and smacking a hand to her face. Her fingers feel cold. Though she attempts to pull from him entirely, he holds her fast against him, amused.

“Yes? What about me?”

She ducks underneath his arm to avoid answering him, rubbing her palms against her cheeks as if she could simply push the sensation out of them.

“Am I to take it that you agree with my idea, then?”

“N-no -- ! Definitely not!”

________

Well -- that was what she had said...

But clearly her conviction had not been strong enough, given her current...predicament.

It had taken a concerning amount of time to find an angel costume that simply...wasn’t too short, but finally she’d managed to find one with a skirt that went at the very least past her knees, while Hades had loitered about the rest of the costumes shop, occasionally remarking this or that or giving extraordinarily unhelpful advice.

“What about this one?”

He, of course, goes ignored.

The house they’re standing in front of now seems tall and imposing, though doubtless only to her. Various decorations and a myriad of lights are strung up about it. The owners had had no qualms to spare coin for making the place fit for Halloween. There’s even a fog machine, judging by the mist blowing across the front yard and obscuring the door.

She’s already not very enthused about entering. Alas, the same cannot be said for her companion.

Whilst Arianna is dressed mainly in white -- with gold accents and, of all things, gold glitter littering the skirt portion of her dress -- and a black headband to allow her halo to blend with her hair, her date (?) wears a mainly black suit with dark red horns. She can’t see his headband from this angle, which leads her to believe he must have simply...willed the outfit into existence, or something. She can’t remember him throwing any such thing into her cart, either.

-- She supposes he looks nice.

Apparently sensing whatever discomfort she exudes, Hades’ grip upon her hand tightens slightly, and he draws her closer to him.

“You are aware we don’t have to go, yes?”

“I am, but -- I thought...you might want to go, so...”

Certainly, as he’s fond of reminding her over their telepathic link, there’s no especial reason they need to be going. They could just as easily turn and go home...and yet she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t giving him enough of what he deserves. Surely he would like for more than to simply lounge about her apartment, or...whatever it is he does when she’s away.

And perhaps a part of her is curious if she truly can do this.

Arianna allows him to lead her past the gate, up into the odourless pale fog that masks the door, and then through it. The closer they get to the doorway, the more loudly the music reverberates against her ears. Ah -- her least favourite sort of “party”, then...

Not that she’s really been to many --

Inside are all sorts of people, most dressed in costumes with a few occasional individuals apparently left out, or simply not wishing to invest the time in their get up. There’s clearly food and drink available further within, and the decorations from without continue on in inside the house. Fake cobwebs with tiny plastic spiders, glowing pumpkins and skulls...and a bit of the fog from outside.

And of course there’s hardly any shortage of dramatic and multi-coloured lighting.

Most of the guests are milling about, some far too close for Arianna’s comfort Unfortunately, her already clear awkwardness isn’t especially evident to the more inebriated partygoers.

“Hey pretty lady.” A young man in a some sort of zombie mask apparently isn’t discouraged by the presence of the even taller man next to her. “Wanna go grab a drink?”

As soon as she focuses on him, her gaze snaps to his shoes, then away; he’s about to try to say something else, though with one derisive stare from Hades and he instantaneously shuts his mouth and slinks away like a defeated pup.

“Hmph. They’re like animals.”

Arianna doesn’t really want to ask him precisely what he means, focused on trying to regain her toppled equilibrium. The sudden approach and the already crowded atmosphere is doing little to quell her flickering anxiety. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here after all.

Her other free hand lifts to grasp at his wrist, her gaze firmly upon the ground as she hunches in on herself, entire body tense.

“Are you sure you don’t want to leave? Perhaps -- ”

“Oh, Arianna! You came!”

The other masculine voice cuts through the white noise and Hades’ words; she recognises it immediately. She glances nervously at Hien’s boots as he comes to a halt a little ways away; there’s cloth beside his, like a robe, or -- 

“I didn’t expect -- I see Hades is here, as well...” Hien trails off a little, perhaps noticing the dire state of the dark-haired woman. “Shall we go somewhere a little quieter? I know a spot -- the hallway’s not as crowded.”

She doesn’t need any other amount of convincing; Hades leads her as Hien and Kirishimi direct the two of them into a darkly lit hallway. Whilst the music here is somewhat muted, the decorations continue along the ceiling, winding over the doors.

It feels far less claustrophobic, however. Perhaps most of it is to do with being surrounded by friends instead. Or Hades standing in the entranceway to the larger room, blocking out most of the rabble.

Leaning against the wall, her death grip upon him slowly lessens as she exhales. Her shoulders slump as some of the sickly tension evaporates. Whilst she’s not entirely in her element yet, things feel -- slightly better. At least better enough that she can try to look up.

She’s somewhat tempted to ask Hien if something is wrong with his eye, until she recalls that they’re all wearing costumes. His appears to be something of a pirate, complete with an eyepatch; though the lighting is dim if not entirely coloured, his outfit seems to be composed of yellows, or perhaps orange. As for Kirishimi --

The woman looks so natural in the -- kimono? -- that for a second it hadn’t even registered that she’s wearing a “costume” at all. She still isn’t really certain it looks like a costume --

And the tails are certainly not a fabrication. Though she supposes she can get away with it at a party.

Hades chooses that moment to gesture with a sigh.

“And you wouldn’t even let me come like that.”

“Your case is a little bit...different...”

Hien’s expression is friendly once he notices Arianna looking up at him.

“Feeling any better? I could get you a drink, if you like...?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the woman gives a small nod. Whilst she feels bad for monopolising the man’s time, her throat undeniably feels a little parched. Once he slips past Hades, the kitsune takes the opportunity to speak.

“Yer lookin’ cute, Ari!”

Feeling her face heat up, Arianna directs her gaze away, glancing toward the ground; after a few seconds, she takes a peek to the wider room, then the other side. With no one else -- really in earshot, perhaps she can manage --

“Ah...tha-thank you...you...too...”

Pressing her fingers to her cheek, she closes her eyes as she tries to calm herself, feeling stupidly childish for no real reason. Though she supposes, perhaps, this is childish; what sort of person can’t even converse...?

“But yer looking as slimy as ever.”

“And I can tell you hardly put any effort into your ‘costume’. You’ve just gone as yourself.”

“Ya tellin’ me yer not some kinda demon? As if I’d believe that. And that suit’s just what ya always wear.”

“Not at all, the cut and style are entirely different. But I wouldn’t expect anything more of a mutt.”

Paradoxically, their hissing argument somehow manages to put her at further ease. Perhaps because it’s a norm of what those two always do when they’re forced together in a single room; no matter the occasion or the reason, they’ve never seemed to be able to get along for longer than a few minutes at a time, and even that is being generous...

See? Everything is normal. That is what she tries to tell herself.

Except for, well, everything else about the situation, but if she just focuses on Hades’ shoulders, perhaps she can pretend nothing is too out of the ordinary about this.

Hien returns a few minutes later with a clear glass of water in his hand; he gives it to Arianna with an encouraging smile, and she takes it gratefully. The glass is cool in her hand, and for a moment she wishes she had something warmer, but it’ll do. Lifting it to her lips, she begins to sip as her companions break out into quiet conversation and half-hearted jabs --

A loud sound, like a foghorn, sheers through even the music; a few people scream. Arianna full-on nearly jumps in place, her vaguely settled nerves fraying like unravelling threads. The blood in her veins turns to ice along with the coldness of the water spilling down her front, and she lets go entirely of Hades’ hand to press her palm to her ear. It’s a wonder she doesn’t let go of the glass entirely -- or that her grip doesn’t simply break it. Instead, she presses it to her other ear as she curls away from the entranceway, her mind struggling at a mile a minute.

There’s few things she’s consciously afraid of. Loud, sudden noises are one such thing.

The tiny noise that had managed to spill from her lips earlier dies, her throat constricting painfully. The dimly lit hallway seems to flicker and swim before her eyes; she squeezes them shut as she tries to calm herself.

“Ari? You okay?”

Their voices sound far away, as if they speak to her from under water or glass. She can’t respond, not even with a movement; her head spins like a kaleidoscope and, dimly, she thinks to herself yet again how stupidly childlike she must look to them all. Especially...

“I am afraid everyone here has overstayed their welcome...”

If there’s one voice that cuts through the noise, it’s his, always his.

But what is he...?

“ -- Ha -- ” Her voice falters in her throat the moment she tries to speak out and grasp at his arm; he easily slips from her and into the crowd of giggling and chatting partygoers, their volume spiraling into a crescendo. She still feels ill, and his sudden disappearance does a poor job of calming her. Was he talking about her...?

There’s a sudden scream; the entire crowd stops stock still. Then pandemonium erupts as chaos consumes the whole house, a thundering of voices and footsteps as the guests throw themselves out whatever doors and windows they can reach.

It’s not difficult to see why. In the centre of the room -- and taking up more space with every second -- is...Hades, in his eldritch form of course, the same one she’d seen when she’d first met him.

The house is deserted in less than a minute; only Arianna, Kirishimi, and Hien remain. The kitsune’s ears are instinctively flattened to her head, tails stiff, her arms unconsciously thrown out in front of her companion. Arianna thinks she can hear something like a growl from within her throat. The devourer of souls seems to have no issue with his current appearance, arms spanning the whole living area.

“Will ya put that away already? Ya stink like the damn void.”

“And you smell like wet dog. Nothing new about that, however.”

With a sigh, the eldritch’s limbs and size retreats; shadows envelop him, and finally he stands in the middle of the abandoned glasses and shattered plates in his humanoid flesh.

“Much better now, eh? I said you’d finally be able to enjoy yourself.”

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #emet selch #emet selch x wol #emet selch x arianna #arianna rowen #arianna #hien #kirishimi #fanfic #my writing #mine #other verses #eldritch horror au #w: the dreamer and the architect #did i just write over 1k words of them discussing the semantics of a party? #yes yes i did #i have problems #sorry for murdering kirien #tw: panic attack

[insomniac-arrest]

hi! i just wanted to say that your chapter of the camgirl series that had the call with the therapist made me cry. And actually changed me. I've always been a bit worried about going on dates due to my insecurities but the conversation in your chapter really helped me and is going to always stick with me in the future. now i'm going to be more open with putting myself out there. so thank you so much.

I’m so glad it could help!! That chapter may in fact just be considered “trickle down therapy,” because it’s basically the advice I got from my own therapist when I was younger-- and she’s highly qualified so I promise it’s that good stuff!

in the past, I’ve hesitated to put direct therapy into my stories because there’s an inherent danger in boring or frightening your readers, stories (especially romance) are mostly meant to be escapism and I’ve been recommended against getting too heavy or... niche in the past.

However, I also get frustrated with stories that deal with mental health and ignore symptom management as an ongoing process, because they usually emphasize the suffering instead of the recovery (movies like To the Bone, and even series like Bojack Horseman do this). Writers often blow-up the nose-dive of it all instead of the mountain climb back up, and while I understand the “nose-dive” might be more interesting from a narrative standpoint, in reality recovery is a much bigger and more laborious part of the process. And recovery unto itself is a roller coaster of ups and downs, there is no end point, which I hoped to capture with how Eliza herself as she has good days and bad days.

Secondly, I also included it because I knew for damn sure that Eliza was going to freak out about the date and needed someone to help her work through it before she went. Joany was the original choice because the chapter could have been more comedic, but I also wanted to build-up to the date in a positive way instead.

The advice you see in that chapter is real! If you’re feeling nervous about a date or a social event the answer isn’t so much “force yourself to go” or “don’t go,” but try to open yourself up to possibilities. Excitement and fear are very close together as emotions and nudging them to one side can make all the difference. The biggest way to do this is to be curious!

People with anxiety disorders, and specifically social anxiety like I have, often set themselves up as “mind readers.” They think they know how others will react to them and their reactions will usually be negative unless you are perfect. When you catch yourself “mind reading” it’s especially helpful to take a step back and replace it with curiosity. Remind yourself “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I am interested in finding out.”

Dates for anxious people can be huge ordeals, but by taking a breather, acknowledging your emotions, and deciding to be curious you can take measures to mitigate your nerves and have a good time! After shifting my mindset around other people, such as not assuming their thoughts, I’ve gone on a lot of fun dates as an adult so this is a proven method that works!

Good luck anon, and I’m glad you’re enjoying the story~

#asks #mriac #mental health #this is a little long but I had some thoughts behind last chapter I wanted to share #also! Please Like Me is great mental illness queer rep if you'd like a show rec #Anonymous

[infpisme]

Why INFPs May Stay in Bad Relationships (and How to Get Out)

In life, heartbreak is inevitable, at least at some point. What is preventable, though, is staying in a relationship that doesn’t resonate with you and doesn’t make you truly happy.

I’ve had my fair share of relationships and modern dating. It’s tough. It’s fun. It can be beautiful — but it can also hurt very deeply, especially for people who feel as much as INFPs do.

As an INFP who has stayed in a few toxic relationships for too long, here are some lessons I’ve learned the hard way.

We See the Best in People (Sometimes an Imaginary Best)

I once read a quote that said: “Never fall in love with someone’s potential, because you could be falling in love with someone they’ll never be.” For INFPs and others like us, this is a huge danger zone.

INFPs are idealists. We see future possibilities rather than present realities. When we meet someone — and we feel a connection — it can be immensely difficult for us to take them at face value. We think about them in great detail, potentially filling in gaps of character knowledge with what we would like them to be, and daydreaming about what we could do together in the near (and even distant) future.

We can become so immersed in who we think this person is, and who we want them to be, that we may ignore incongruities in this person’s character. I think this stems from the fact that we believe all people are inherently good — I still believe this, even after two toxic relationships. However, some people’s intentions are not so honest.

I have an unfortunate, perhaps cliched habit of going for bad boys. Maybe it’s part of being the “healer” personality, but I am your typical “fixer.” It’s sweet in theory, but it’s detrimental to my own wellbeing.

I have been guilty of staying in relationships that are not right for me because I saw the imaginary best in a person — clinging to our best moments and ignoring huge, waving red flags. For example: lying, poor communication, drug abuse, narcissism, even infidelity.

We May Accept Others to the Point That We Neglect Our Own Needs (Then Blow Up)

This leads swimmingly to my next lesson. Many INFPs believe in the concept of “live and let live.” This can make us great, understanding partners, but what happens when the person we’re with doesn’t treat us how we want and need to be treated?

We hate conflict, so that’s usually a painful no-go. Then there’s swallowing our emotions and trudging along while not feeling truly happy. I’m sure we’ve all done this at some point, regardless of our Myers-Briggs personality type. My best friend — an ESFJ — used to say that I was “a passive acceptor of torment” about my relationship with my ex-boyfriend. He did things that — when I look back — simply made me sad: messaging other women, lying, poor communication.

These things made me feel hurt and uncomfortable. But, rather than own the fact that they made me uneasy, I instead tried to push my feelings to the side, thinking I was overreacting or being needy.

I was so accepting of who he was as a person that I excused behavior that didn’t sit right with me, and stayed in a relationship that made me sad for far too long. I overanalyzed and ruminated, trying to understand his side, and let his behavior be okay with me.

But then, every little incident would feel like a tiny increase on the thermometer, until suddenly I reached my boiling point and blew up. Of course, he thought I was acting “crazy,” completely unaware of all the slights along the way that had led to this point.

If You’re in a Relationship That Makes You Uneasy, Don’t Ignore That Feeling

Both traits tie together in a way: We see what we want to see, and we accept and try to empathize with what hurts us. This is why I’ve stayed in bad relationships, despite anxiety and unhappiness.

What I have started doing is listening more to my gut. INFPs have very strong belief systems that we use to navigate the world. However, when love comes into play, our internal compasses may go askew, and we might even stop listening to our instincts.

In past bad relationships, I felt completely, totally anxious. There were highs of immense fun, but my baseline was unsettled. I felt drained, I overthought a lot, and I wasn’t happy. But I ignored those feelings and continued to hope for the best.

Some things I used to say to myself:

“It’s just the way they are. I need to relax.” (I never felt relaxed.)

“It’s just me — I’m sensitive and asking for too much.” (Why did I put my needs in the backseat?)

“I should not have said that, now they are mad at me.” (But they weren’t making me happy in the first place!)

The things I said to myself simply caused more pain. They stopped me from saying how I felt to my significant other — a person who wasn’t a good match for me regardless — and kept me in the bad relationship when I should have ended it. 

Moving Forward: Create the Life You Want to Live

At the end of the day, INFPs are dreamers. We have colorful visions and idealistic dreams of the life we want to live. We’re at our happiest when our imagination is powering us forward and enriching our real lives.

When I finally left my ex, it’s because I had been working on using my dreams and imagination to supercharge my life. I started focusing on myself and boosting my self-confidence. As I did this, the idealistic halo I had unintentionally placed on my ex’s head fell off, and I realized the way he was treating me and his opposing values weren’t what I wanted.

If you’re an INFP who thinks you might be in a bad relationship, it’s time to take action. First, I would recommend trying to view your partner without the rose-tinted spectacles we INFPs so readily wear. This can be tricky, I know, but it’s important to take stock of the realities of your situation (and not pen your hopes of what could be).

Some things to consider: 

Does my partner make me feel safe and comfortable to be myself?

Do I trust them? 

Do my partner’s actions truly match their words?

If you answered no to one or more of the above questions, then you might be in a situation where your idealism (which you must remember is a wonderful gift, but one that must be channeled and nurtured) is blocking your view of reality. Look into yourself and ask, “Am I really in love with this person — as they are, right now? Am I happy with how they treat me, or am I holding onto the idea of what could be?” 

I can’t tell you to leave a relationship — it isn’t my place. But I do want you to be aware of your idealism, and make sure it doesn’t pull the wool over your eyes. Self-esteem and confidence also play a huge role. Listen to your inner dreams and pursue them in actuality. This can go a long way to keep INFPs grounded in reality. 

Once you can see your partner without an idealistic halo, you’ll know within yourself what the best next step should be — be it a conversation, some inner work on self-esteem, or perhaps even ending the relationship for good. 

Remember, relationships should feel like blessings, not curses. The bottom line is, in a healthy relationship, your baseline feeling shouldn’t be stress. Of course, no relationship is perfect, but stress should not be the predominant emotion.

Why be with a partner who brings out the worst in you? Who makes you feel like your intuition is off kilter? Who makes you feel like you are asking for too much, when all you want is to give and receive love?

INFP, you deserve the love you so freely give to others.

Source: Olivia Berkley, IntrovertDear

#olivia berkley #infp #introvertdear #infp quotes #infp thoughts #infp personality #infp advice #infp problems #infp things #infp traits

[yukiwrites]

Where Your Loyalty Lies [13/??]

Summary:  Kamui’s kidnapping didn’t go as planned – She managed to get away and ended up at Silas’ doorstep. They were raised as siblings, but she has always felt different; her fangs and red eyes and urges to run amok, what did they all mean? Would going to the castle as the Crown Prince’s retainer help her find more clues? Will the war between Nohr and Hoshido be the answer to everything?

Previous chapter <=> AO3 <=> Next chapter

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Chapter 13: Determination

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The beast growled at the back of Kamui’s head. She could almost feel it breathing down her neck while she wrapped herself with the thick bed sheets Eleonore had sent just a day previous. It was as though the bed -- not small but certainly not big either -- was cramped with both Kamui and her beast, as it gnawed its jaw and slithered its tongue over the young woman’s cheeks. It made her shiver within herself in a way she hadn’t done in more than a decade.

Had all of her training been for naught? Would the beast always grow just as strong as Kamui whenever the dame improved herself? 

She knew herself -- she was stronger now than in the past; she even managed to push back her itches to the point of controlling when they would happen! But all of that crumbled once they arrived together at Stockarres -- once Kamui willingly allowed the beast to take over her body to show off its prowess to all who would witness it.

It was as though the control Kamui had over her own consciousness could be snatched away from her as if they were reins of the carriage that was her life. The place she had always fought for within her; the spot whence she would be able to proudly call herself 'her own person' was in danger of being stolen from her.

Just a push was all it needed for Kamui to lose this battle.

And she didn't feel strong enough to fight back. Not after succumbing once.

Just once is all I need, it was as though the beast slithered to her ear, giggling with its forked tongue between its teeth. One more time and you're mine.

Huffing, Kamui dug her nails into her right arm, still wrapped with an old rag, though even that was being torn here and there. Part of her rationalized that if only she would go through this itch right there and then -- down there under the trees and the perpetual shadow of the forest -- it would all be okay come morning. She would be herself again.

Yet, there was no telling if she would be able to come back were she to run amok on her own -- would she return as herself, or as the beast whose ever-growing roar threatened to make her tear her own flesh apart? It will be okay, she kept telling herself. I'll be okay, I'll be okay, I'll be okay, she chanted inside her mind so as to drown the growls and roars.

Besides, she was going to meet King Garon the following afternoon -- what if she needed the power to escape? Perhaps conserving her strength-

"No!!" Kamui held her own head between her overgrown claws. "Don't tempt me into trusting you again!" She seethed under her teeth; her entire body trembling with a cold that came from within her terrified heart. "It's true that I usually feel more refreshed after- after exercising, but I can't- oh, I can't!" She sobbed into her own arm, her breath as shaky as her unfocused gaze. "I will-" she sniffled, overly conscious of the tears that streamed down unannounced from her eyes. "I'll overcome you! I’ll... I won't shy away from fear!"

Her voice echoed in the eerily empty room, the only noise of response coming from within her mind. In a desperate attempt to cling to some sort of hope, Kamui's memories fell upon her as though they were a waterfall.

The first time her Master saw her diphormism -- and told her to get strong enough to beat it to submission; the first time she agonized over her inner beast -- and the weeks of aching secrecy that followed, only to be found out by her Brother and accepted within his chest; the day she and her Lord danced, in which he accepted her for who she was regardless of her race -- as long as she did her duty, who or what she was did not matter.

Her duty; the people who accepted her. The warm and firm touch of the Crown Prince's hand on her back, making her strangely wanting to stay more within his arms than anywhere else before. The teasing smile he flashed her just on the previous night when he placed in her the trust inherent of her position. Her own past, shrouded in mystery -- the fog-like voices she oftentimes recalled from the depths of her memory; the origin of all of this grief, all of this despair.

It wasn’t simply for the way other people would accept her that she needed to overcome this daunting beast, no. It was also, and especially, for herself.

"I... I won't lose to you!" Kamui managed to roar with a conviction that was born from deep within herself -- deeper than where the beast could reach. She felt as though there was a light shining from her depths towards her voice, giving it power and strength. "THIS IS MY BODY, AND I’LL CONTROL IT AS I WILL," she huffed, sitting up on the bed as though she could look at the beast's eyes while she stared at an empty wall. "You won't terrorize me; you won't seize control of me... I WON'T LET YOU."

Then, there was silence.

The growling had grown quieter and quieter until it disappeared completely, though her right arm still itched somewhat.

Huffing, Kamui looked around as if she would be able to physically see the shadow that terrorized her life for so long, though she understandably saw nothing but the empty room all around her. She felt a smile itching at the corners of her lips while her heart thumped triumphantly. A win! She had managed to suppress the beast by sheer will!

Kamui wasn’t naïve enough to think that it would never come back -- or that she would be able to escape this immediate itch, in fact -- but being able to silence it so surely like just now was something she didn’t think she would be able to accomplish. Not after Stockarres.

Breathing deeply, the dame stretched herself before falling back on the mattress, keenly aware of the softness of the pillows and the blankets she had wrapped all around herself.

May sleep be kind to her tonight.

Dawn welcomed Kamui after the dame slept barely three hours, though she was much too anxious about her meeting with the King to truly feel the exhaustion that surely would seep into her energy later. Kamui allowed Jakob his entrance by the dresser, already wearing her uniform.

“Good morn-” Jakob opened his mouth to greet, but Kamui interrupted him without even taking her eyes away from the mirror.

“Do you know how to do a braid, Jakob?” She groaned, taking her hands away from her hair lest she cut it all up in frustration -- she had managed to make short work of the naturally wavy locks by twisting and turning them so much they barely resembled their usual look.

The dame had to find a way to replicate the hairdo Clara used to make for her -- the one in which part of her hair would be rolled into a braid around her head so as to hide her pointy ears from view. She wouldn’t be able to wear a coiffe to completely take any chances of someone figuring out that her hairdo was deliberately hiding her ears, but she didn’t feel safe enough to display them in King Garon’s presence.

Jakob smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as though tasting something foul, walking towards his lady with an impeccable poise. “My lady, if only you’d look at how I style my hair every day…” He positioned himself behind Kamui so she could see his reflection on her mirror -- once she did, she widened both her eyes and her smile.

“Wonderful! Oh, Jakob, could you please style my hair in a way that hides my ears with a braid? I never did anything more complicated than a ponytail by myself, so I didn’t know what I could do!” She clasped her hands excitedly, adjusting herself further into the chair so as to throw her hair in place for Jakob to work on it.

Sighing, the butler glanced at the hot pot of tea that would surely grow cold by the time he finished styling Kamui’s hair. “Perhaps after breakfast, yes? Your meal will run cold…”

“Please, Jakob! I’m so nervous about it, I don’t think I’ll be able to stomach anything unless I am absolutely sure the hairdo will be good enough. Probably not even after it, if I’m being honest…” She muttered the last part, fiddling with a random lock of hair that had survived the onslaught.

“Hahh, very well, milady. I shall do as you asked.” Jakob unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt, rolling his sleeves up right after. “How would you want it styled, apart from the braid? Entirely up, half-down…?”

“Honestly, as long as the braid covers the ears, I don’t care about the style; you’re free to do whatever you want with it.” She flashed an apologetic smile, scratching her cheek as though she hadn’t actually thought about anything past the braid. Which was true, of course, but she had been so focused on trying to hide her ears that there was hardly any room for other thoughts in her mind.

Once again the butler sighed, reaching for the hair brush and clips scattered all over the dresser -- which displayed Kamui’s dozens of attempts at trying to replicate the style -- before he grabbed Kamui’s head, making her look straight ahead. “Very well, milady. I shall exceed your expectations.”

Disentangling the mess Kamui had made on her own hair took longer than either of them expected. However, the butler managed to come up with an intricate yet quick to braid hairdo: starting from either side of her hair, he made two thick braids that would lay over the pointy bit of her ears, joining them together behind her head into a layered lattice look.

“Although milady is wearing your uniform to meet the King, at least your hair should be presentable.” Jakob said with a proud puff of his chest, though added in a small voice: “Especially after the mess you have made before…”

“Ahem,” Kamui cleared her throat as she enjoyed the now cold tea, unbothered by its temperature now that her hair was safely done. She would sometimes sneak glances at her reflection in the mirror -- Jakob had managed to make her look jovial and upbeat: and that was before she even put on any resemblant of make-up! Honestly, she looked so cute she even wanted to put on make-up to complete the entire set.

She would apply only a light color on her face, however. The dame wanted to look presentable before the King, yes, but she also didn’t want him to pay too much attention to her. She would be armed -- as all Knights were allowed to, though not if they were to be within a three meter radius from the King -- so that would be one less problem should things go south-

“No, no, no,” Kamui shook her head so as to shoo away the pessimistic thoughts, conscious of how her beautiful braids followed its movements. “It’ll be alright, it’ll be alright.” She muttered to herself, as if unaware that Jakob was standing in wait right in front of her. Taking a deep breath, the dame puffed her chest, psyching herself up for the upcoming challenge.

However, she would only meet the King at noon, so she would still report to her Lord as usual during the morning. Which was honestly her solace for the moment -- to dig into her duties so as to ground herself more into the impact of her choice and how much she had at stake to slip up when meeting the King who had ordered her hunt so many years ago.

Kamui would succeed.

Like when she trained herself to half-death, she would put all of what she was into following through her own goals.

It was just that, now, that goal gnawed at the pit of her stomach, urging her to get ready to put her own head inside a lion’s open jaws.

Although it took Jakob quite a while to finish her braids, since Kamui didn’t need any more preparation apart from a light make-up, she arrived at her Lord’s common meeting room at the usual time, greeting him with the same respect as she always did.

“Dame Kamui greets His Highness the Crown Prince,” she bowed gracefully after closing the door, somewhat already ingraining the noble curtsy into her from early morning instead of only turning it on during the meeting with King Garon. Her more elegant actions coupled with her girly hairstyle and features made both men take a second too long to reply to her greetings.

Richard switched the weight of his body to another leg, glancing at his Lord when Xander made a gesture for his older retainer to bring something out. Sighing inwardly, the tall man turned to the side to pick up a package -- there was something soft wrapped inside a high-quality, green brocade cloth -- which he promptly handed his Lord.

“You may rise, dame Kamui.” Xander allowed Kamui to straighten her back at the same time he got up from his desk, circling it with his characteristic elegant steps. With a glance at his new retainer, Xander could see how she had chosen her own way to dress herself to this, so to say, battle.

And it was a battle in and of itself, to meet the King under his summons -- of that Xander was painfully aware.

He could see how Kamui’s usually slit-like eyes were covered with round irises; how her noble poise slipped instead of a knightly reverence; how her back was more erect than usual -- and how her breathing was uneven even after such a short walk from her quarters to this common meeting room.

Xander spoke, “it is no simple task, the one you will be fulfilling this afternoon, Kamui.” He stopped in front of Richard, swiftly undoing the golden knot that held the ornate package, not paying any mind as the green cloth slipped open to reveal a deep violet cloak from within. “Yet it is a burden that you shall bear for as long as you are in my service,” the Crown prince stepped away from Richard, holding the cloak in his hands as he approached Kamui. “This simply holds a symbolic meaning, however it would please me greatly if you would wear this when it is time to meet my father, the King.”

Wide-eyed, Kamui watched as Xander flapped the cloak open, twirling it behind her back as he closed the well adorned clasp on her chest -- the weight of the fabric as it slowly fell over her body somehow made Kamui remember the dance they shared; it made her feel as though she were still within Prince Xander’s arms… and it made her feel safe. The golden straps which adorned her chest, right above her heart, conjoined into a brooch with the Crown Prince’s symbol: a shield in front of two crossed blades with the symbol of Nohr etched right into its middle. At the back, there was a larger one of such symbols beautifully embroidered in a way that would unmistakingly tell anyone who saw her from afar that Kamui was under the Crown Prince’s protection.

It was Xander’s way of telling Kamui that, although he wouldn’t be there with her physically, he would still be showing her his entire support through his symbol.

“My Father is a very intimidating man -- as is his duty as the King.” Xander exhaled softly as he patted Kamui’s shoulder after making sure he had properly clasped the cloak together. “This is a task you must complete on your own -- what I can do for you at this moment is to bestow my seal upon you so you can face him proudly, under my name.” He nodded, taking a step back to allow Kamui a look around herself.

Overwhelmed with the support, Kamui’s eyes burned with tears, though she managed to stop her trembling chin as she held the cloak with both hands, twirling around herself to take a look and sigh in wonder as the heavy fabric followed her movements and sprawled itself way farther than any dress she had ever worn.

Richard snorted, though it went unnoticed by the other two, wondering if his Lord had overestimated Kamui’s height. “It’s really eye-catching, so only wear it in official events from now on, yes? I avoid using mine as much as I can, so I don’t want to be seen with you while you wear this corny thing.”

“Corny?” Kamui repeated, not noticing how she smiled brightly, looking down on her shiny new cloak and twirling around herself once more as Xander turned to his older retainer to glare at him.

“I never kept this from you, my lord.” Richard raised his palms in self-defense, smirking as Xander sighed and leaned on the desk.

“It is filled with my sincere thoughts, Richard. It is not… ‘corny’.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he directed his gaze to the glistering Kamui.

Before the black-haired man could reply, Kamui raised her shiny, round eyes to Xander. “I think so too, Lord Xander. It’s a wonderful gift! I’m humbled.” She bowed deeply without ever letting go of the cloak, making her look much smaller than she actually was. “I shall hold onto this with all the care it deserves.”

Xander’s frown lessened, making way to a soft smile as he nodded to Kamui’s statement, not even feeling like pointing to Richard and telling him to learn from his new partner. He simply watched the giggly Kamui pull the cloak this or that way while she walked around the room towards her usual seat, meeting her glistering gaze more than once during the way. Her smile brightened more each time their eyes met, the beams of warmth from her pure glee kept Xander  in place, as though he wanted to keep on being the recipient of her smiles.

Once Kamui sat down, coincidentally right beside where Richard was standing, the older retainer poked his partner. “You’re wearing it now? I’m sure my Lord simply put it on you as a formality. You should take it off and only put it back on when it’s time to go.”

The dame resolutely shook her head. “No, I want to keep wearing it. Its meaning wasn’t lost on me, unlike on some people.” She bonked her head on Richard’s arm, snorting as he sighed to leave her side. “It’ll give me the strength I need,” Kamui murmured to herself, though not realizing she was still under Xander’s gaze.

Unable to stop smiling, Xander closed his eyes as though to etch this image into his mind before moving away from his spot, circling back to behind his desk so they could start their usual work for the day.

Fortunately or not, the morning passed by faster than usual -- perhaps because Kamui had been so absorbed into her duties so as to forget the passing of time that she was stunned over how well that worked. Once she gave her Lord her final bow before leaving, she could barely make out the surroundings around her due to the dizziness she got from how loud her heart was thumping.

Her steps echoed in her own ears as though they belonged to someone else while her hands dug into the cloak that danced behind her fast pace. Kamui absent-mindedly tapped onto the brooch with Xander’s seal, feeling it with the tips of her fingers as though to keep herself grounded in reality -- that served to help her stop her mind to wander into the darkest corners of her being.

The dame could barely remember what she had rehearsed she would say to the King once she was before him, her mind taking all it had to simply keep her on her feet. Kamui would glance upon her reflection whenever she passed a silver decorative armor that adorned the corridors, making sure that her ears were properly hidden, or open her arms that held the cloak so as to allow the wind to make it flap behind her in a somewhat playful manner, surprising even herself whenever a giggle was born under such circumstances.

As she arrived at Krakenburg’s common area, the air itself felt heavier to breathe, as though there was a thick layer of pressure hanging on its inhabitants’ shoulders. It was in the corridor that led to the throne room that Kamui met her brother.

“Silas!” She called out with a squeaking voice, not wanting to raise it too loudly right outside the place into which the pressure seemed to spiral out of and converge into.

“Kamui!” Silas replied in an equally squeaky voice, running to meet his sister halfway, his steps as fidgety as hers. Huffing, the siblings wordlessly looked at one another, as though trying to check if their appearance was somewhat off to meet with the most powerful man in the kingdom. “That’s a new cloak, isn’t it?” He commented, looking over Kamui’s shoulder with a discerning eye.

Somewhat shy, Kamui spun around herself to show off her Lord’s present. “Lord Xander gave it to me, as his support.” She pressed her lips to hold back a smile, her cheeks lightly flushing with the memory of Xander putting the cloak on her. “I hope that His Majesty’s eyes will fall on it instead of, well…” The dame bobbed her heads to the side, afraid to even talk aloud about her physical appearance.

“Y-yes,” Silas nodded nervously, glancing from his sister to the massive door that led to the throne room. “I’ve just arrived, so I don’t know when someone will call for us or anything.”

There were two silent guards right in front of the doors, though Kamui didn’t dare to call out to them. The both of them would wait until they were summoned inside; there was no need to urge the King to meet them, nor to annoy him into thinking that they were impatient subjects who deserved punishment.

She would get in, present herself and get out. Simple.

Kamui took a deep breath, walking a few steps until she was completely in front of the door, being followed by her uneasy brother.

Simple.

Long moments turned into long minutes that, in turn, spiralled into a very stretched out hour. Yet, the siblings didn’t so much as glance the guards’ way, patiently waiting in front of the room with their eyes fixated on the door. Their insides were already overheating from how nervously they were digesting the situation that a simple cough from a passing maid was enough to startle them out of their skins.

Kamui felt like she had been holding her breath for one entire hour; so when the massive doors creaked open, she was surprised to notice that she could inhale even more air to keep in there, making her even dizzier. If Kamui had had any brainpower to spare to think about it, she would be surprised to think that the beast kept itself obediently quiet while they waited (since it usually disturbed her whenever she was anxious), but she was already having trouble on remembering how to breathe, let alone how to think.

In the wake of the eerie wind that blew once the doors were fully open, a familiar-looking man called after two burly guards had heaved the doors open.

“Lantanoir siblings. You may enter and place yourselves before His Majesty.” His face was blurry -- and Kamui couldn’t tell if it was from her dizziness or from the swirling atmosphere that got thicker and thicker the further she stepped into the room -- but the dame could somehow remember his voice. He was the Marshal of the Court, Lord Abbington.

The Marshal spoke to them in a low voice as they walked through the long hall towards the middle, circular point over which the staircase to the throne led. He explained the common etiquette that one should bear when greeting the King, though all of his advices were mostly common knowledge, especially to the two Royal Retainers who had had that sort of knowledge beaten into them during the first weeks of their service.

Once they got close enough to the place they should kneel at, Lord Abbington stepped to the side, scurrying closer to a column as he raised his voice. “Presenting the Lantanoir siblings, personal retainers chosen by Crown Prince Xander and Youngest Princess Elise.”

Kamui threw her cloak back so as to allow herself to kneel more comfortably, unfastening her sword out of her belt to place it on the right side of her body, as the etiquette called. Since she was right-handed, placing her weapon on the right side of her body would make it difficult for her to grasp it were a battle to break out -- it was a way of showing respect to the higher authority as well as to imply that her life was at his hands should anything happen. Silas did the same two steps away from her, giving them both proper space to place their weapons away from one another’s touch.

“Dame Lantanoir greets His Majesty, the Sword that defends our Kingdom.” She lowered her head, overly conscious of how her braids moved behind her back.

“Sir Lantanoir greets His Majesty, the Sword that defends our Kingdom.” Silas said at the same time as his sister, their voices in a somehow unison as their silvery locks shone under the eerie green glow of the magical fire lit across the walls.

King Garon inhaled as though to welcome them, but no words left his mouth -- instead, it felt like a pressure hit the both of them with the intensity of a powerful gravitational magic, stemming from right above them.

“...!” Both siblings swallowed a groan of pain as the weight pressed itself on their shoulders and back, making their knees and necks cry out in discomfort.

Yet, amidst the pressure, Kamui could almost… hear something. Two somethings, perhaps? There was a vague sound of running water and… whispers. They were so soft she couldn’t make out any word of it, but it was like someone was mumbling something right above her head, at the same time she felt a pair of eyes stare holes at the back of her neck. She wanted to steal a glance at the stare, but her body was frozen under the pressure.

Had they been hit by a powerful binding magic? Why wasn’t anyone saying anything? They could barely glance at each other as they felt the thick energy lick at their faces, preventing them from properly breathing.

“It’s the first time we meet, Lantanoir siblings. Isn’t this such a wonderful family reunion?” A voice that could only be described by the sound that someone makes when they scratch a blackboard made the siblings’ hairs stand on end. “Raise your heads, both of you.”

As though compelled to, the two of them felt their heads snap up, followed by their neck complaining in pain. Their eyes met a black-haired man’s single one. He wore layers of robes adorned with golden trinkets, a black and white mask covering half of his face as he wriggled his fingers in a motion that could only be taken as witchcraft. He was chanting something under his breath while his fingers moved to apply the magic, which both Kamui and Silas imagined was the reason why their bodies were suddenly so heavy and somehow out of their control.

“I am Iago, Royal Adviser to His Majesty the King.” He opened both arms amidst a half-baked bow, a somewhat lizard-like smile growing inside his thin, dry lips. “I shall keep this brief since His Majesty does not enjoy long talks: We have heard much of the… ah, little lady’s service under our Crown Prince. Especially that you had a direct hand at saving the Eldest Princess, Lady Camilla.”

Kamui’s throat was clogged up. She couldn’t speak.

Seeing that, Iago moved his index slightly to the side, making the pressure gnawing at her neck lessen, which allowed her to properly breathe.

Wide-eyed and out of breath, Kamui glanced at her brother (who was still unable to look away from Iago) before turning back to the Royal Advisor. Now she understood why Richard was so disgusted by the simple mention of the man’s name. “I am merely the Crown Prince’s weapon.” She lowered her head once again, unable to even look upon the snake-like man. “I simply did my duty.”

Iago opened his mouth with a smirk, but was cut off by the explosive voice of the man that had been silent until now. A man that had been as tall as, if not taller than, Xander in his youth.

A man whose pitch-black armor somehow made it impossible for anyone who gazed at their own reflections in it to walk away the same. His black and white beard along with the wrinkled face tried to display the years that weighted down on him, yet the sound of his titaneous voice made all present shake within their very souls just the same as it had been in the past.

“It’s no small feat, little girl, to save the life of a royal.” Garon rested his head on one hand, not moving away from the throne despite the presence he exuded making Kamui think he had gotten up. His voice shook something inside Kamui’s very being -- it felt akin to when the beast would poke at her consciousness and bring forth all sorts of unpleasant thoughts. It was as though she was actually hearing the beast’s voice, which shook her tremendously.

Up until then, Kamui had only, well, imagined that the beast had a voice. She did hear roars and growls every now and then, but any articulate wording it might’ve had, they all came from Kamui’s own head. It was an unconscious way to make sense of the beast’s inarticulate noises so as to place herself somewhere that was removed from properly admitting that she had a... feral side deep within her. Something that wasn’t truly herself that shared her body and mind.

But when the King spoke, Kamui could feel her entire body shake with terror, as though she had been injected with freezing water that reached all the way into her very heart. Unbeknownst to her, Kamui raised her trembling gaze to him, somehow catching a glimpse of the bizarre, round statue that lay right above her head, on the ceiling.

Under the gaze of both statue and King, Kamui could only gulp in wait for his next words, gripping at her cloak to stop herself from shaking so terribly.

“Though, as you said before, it was your duty, so I shan’t concede you a reward.” Garon shrugged as though enjoying how Kamui looked like a frightened kitten drapped into his eldest son’s rags. “I will keep close watch on you from now on, Dame Lantanoir.” His voice slithered slowly, descending down the steps towards Kamui, wrapping itself around her neck and whispering into her ear: “I shall wait what other feats you will show us.”

US? Kamui couldn’t help but think amidst her despair, her body so cold it was a wonder she was still considered amongst the number of the living. Her lips trembling, it took the dame three moments too long to shakily lower her head. “I-it will be my utmost pleasure to serve, Your Majesty,” she managed to croak out in a barely audible voice.

It served to both Garon and Iago’s amusement, as both of them chuckled with the little rodent’s soft words.

“And you,” Garon turned to Silas, whose lower lip was almost bleeding from how fiercely he dug his teeth into it. Startled, the young knight felt King Garon’s voice grasp at his chin, forcing his face to turn to him as though he was using his own hand. “Try to make a better job at serving Elise than her previous retainer. Though it will be amusing to watch how long you’ll last.” He sneered as though finding the death of Princess Elise’s previous retainer a passing topic one discussed over tea.

With a simple gesture of his chin, Garon ended the meeting.

“You are dismissed.” Iago waved for the two of them to leave, the pressure above their shoulders suddenly lifting. “I shall see you around the halls,” he smiled wickedly, licking his dry lips as the two retainers gave their silent bows, collected their weapons and turned to leave.

Kamui’s legs were shaking so badly she almost tripped twice, ultimately falling on her knees the moment the large doors to the throne room closed behind them. Silas flopped on the floor beside his sister, their faces so pale they could’ve been mistaken by ghosts weren’t their breathing so aggravated.

The two guards in front of the throne room said nothing, well used to this kind of sight whenever someone new or old came out of there. Only Crown Prince Xander, First Princess Camilla and Iago, the Royal Adviser managed to leave that room with their heads held high, as though unbothered by the filthy atmosphere that surrounded it.

It took Kamui many minutes to stop her trembling, though when she thought she would have full control of her body, she started retching and was unable to stop the urge to throw up, staining the carpet right in front of her in a disgraceful manner. “G-gods, I-I’m so sorry, I, ughh…” she tried to look up to the guards behind her and properly apologize, but another wave was coming, making her throw up transparent liquid.

“K-Kamui-” It took everything Silas had not to follow suit, one of his hands dutifully stretched to pat his sister’s back as he covered his nose with the other one so as not to inhale the stench of the vomit, his own body curving into a retch as well.

“Agh, gods- hahh, hahh…” Kamui breathed heavily, throwing herself on her behind to pull her head back, squeezing her eyes so as not to look at the huge door she just vomited in front of. Conscious of her cloak, Kamui wrapped herself around it as she drew large breaths, not wanting it to touch the mess she had just made. “We need,” she huffed, feeling as though her senses started to return to her, “we need to get out of here! S-Silas-”

“Y-yes, yes, let’s go-” Silas nodded, though his legs were still limp on the floor. His body was turned to Kamui as he tried to support himself with his elbows to look up at her. “C’mon, hold my hand-” he tried to lift it for her to hold, but when she did, it collapsed on the floor with a soft thud.

“Let’s go, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Kamui muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes close and stretching them open, getting a proper view of the world after a few tries. She dared to get up, feeling more like a newborn fawn than a human being, though was still able to hold her own weight. “Silasss!” She pulled his hand with the most difficulty she had ever felt in her life -- it was as though all of her strength had been left inside the throne room, either forgotten or taken hostage until she had brought back her mental fortitude.

His body heavy, Silas leaned on Kamui’s shoulder as the two of them limped back to Strömborg without ever looking back. 

The cold air of the outside managed to wake them up in some manner until they could finally separate and walk on their own. They staggered once they reached the familiar walls, sitting on the dead grass between everywhere and nowhere, their heads still spinning.

Kamui felt terrible for throwing up on the carpet like that, feeling that she should come back there to warn someone or maybe ask for a broom or something so she could clean it herself, but her body… It didn’t listen to her as it trembled still. The afternoon air, although not as cold as when dusk fell, was still cold to their lungs and invigorating to their bodies.

The dame hadn’t needed to worry about the stains, honestly, since that was basically a daily occurrence at that part of the castle. Many weak-hearted people fainted or foamed at the mouth or even peed themselves; so vomiting was the least of it -- leastwise the most common.

Still, that shame would follow Kamui for the rest of her life -- she was so embarrassed she didn’t even have the face to go back to her Lord’s office to report that the mission had been a success. Had it, really? Probably? She barely remembered what had happened there, honestly.

The only thing that set all alarms inside her head were the eerie presence she felt staring down at her neck and the passing whispers that left as soon as she made out a word of understanding -- all of it surrounded her in place, as though wanting her to stay that way for the rest of her days.

Shivering, Kamui held herself under the cloak, trying to keep the vivid memories away lest she was sucked back in there. Her head was operating at its minimum capacity, somehow having fried itself to simply bring Kamui back to Strömborg; if she thought too hard about anything, she’d most certainly pass out.

Beside her, Silas was sitting on the grass while breathing heavily, the toll still greatly apparent on him. Taking in a shaky breath, Kamui managed to put herself on her feet once again, hugging the cloak for comfort more than anything, despite it weighing much more than she could bear at the moment.

“I’m going back to my room to put this away,” she declared in an unfirm voice, each step she took depleting her already low energy. “Then I’ll go back to Lord Xander.”

“K-Kamui, don’t force yourself, ugh…” Silas bent forward, breathing through his hands. “I’m sure the Crown Prince would understand-”

“He would. But-” she huffed, each breath refreshing her further, “but I won’t. I need to- to get used to this.”

Having said that, she left under heavy steps; leaving a panting Silas to bring himself back together.

Kamui miscalculated how much strength she would need to go up the apparently endless flight of stairs to her quarters, so when she arrived, she crumpled on the floor in exhaustion. Breathing heavily, the dame took off the cloak, using the most of her arm to throw it on the bed as she lay on the floor beside it.

She had stopped thinking at that point, so all she could do was simply follow through the motions of the actions she had imprinted on her mind before reaching her quarters: she washed her face and her mouth with the cold water always at the ready on the silver basin, then trudged to the bed to fold the cloak as neatly as she could at the moment. She then placed it atop her emergency bag, taking upon herself to bring the cloak with her whenever she went.

Surprisingly, the more she moved, the more strength returned to her, although bit by bit. Taking a quick breath, the dame braced herself to the trek down the stairs as well as the entire way toward her Lord’s common meeting room.

 Once she stood outside the door, Kamui’s head was much clearer. She could feel her whole body and, honestly, apart from the shame of the embarrassing act in front of the door, she felt mostly fine.

Kamui took yet another deep breath before using her personal set of knocks to let her Lord know it was her who requested entry.

Xander’s voice from inside sounded confused and alarmed. “Kamui?”

“Dame Kamui greets the Crown Prince,” she said in a steely tone after entering, bowing not as a noble but as a knight who had completed their duty.

“I am surprised to see you here, Dame Kamui. Approach.” Xander gestured for the dame to come closer, to which she obeyed. “Have you succeeded?”

“You’re pale. Were you not able to meet the King?” Richard asked before she could reply, though Kamui kept her head down.

“I-I was able to meet His Majesty, yes. Should I not have returned?” She fidgeted, glad that the pressure from the Crown Prince’s eyes wasn’t sickening as the one that came from his father.

“Most who meet my Father for the first time do not have the means to return so quickly.” Xander said simply, though Kamui could deeply understand the underlying meaning of his words. It was harsh, it was hard, it was daunting, to meet the King and be the same person right away. Kamui herself had wanted to curl up to a ball and never leave her room just a few minutes previous, but she managed to persevere. Looking at the worried glint in her eyes, Xander opened his mouth yet again. “Did something happen back there?”

Flinching, the dame lowered her head even more, a flush of color running through her face to display her shame. “I-I am ashamed.”

“Out with it, girl.” Richard urged, eager to know if he could use whatever she was going to say as teasing or blackmail material.

“I-” she squeezed her eyes as she fought with the lump in her throat. “Ithrewuponthecarpet!” She bowed deeply. “I’m really sorry, I feel so, so-”

“Before or after you entered?!” Richard slapped back immediately during the time it took for Xander to blink in surprise.

“A-after…” Kamui squeaked out in response, too embarrassed to lift her head to meet either her Lord’s or her partner’s gaze. Richard deliberately snorted loudly, though cleared his throat to show all present that he was controlling himself so as not to burst in laughter.

Honestly, Kamui would have smiled at his open distaste of her as usual, but since it was something that dug into her ego so deeply, she only squeezed her eyes in shame.

“Kamui, come here.” Xander’s voice snapped the dame out of her spiral of self-apprehension, making her immediately look up at him. He gestured for her to circle his desk and stand beside his chair. “Allow me to tell you a secret…”

“I can hear you.” Richard cleared his throat, somehow knowing what the so-called secret entailed.

Xander’s smirk simply grew as he whispered: “The first time Richard entered, he was unable to serve for two days.”

“I was a young boy, not a grown woman.” The Royal Retainer rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. This was a sore subject to him too, it seemed.

“He was seventeen.” Xander said as he looked straight at Richard’s eyes before looking back to Kamui. “Do not worry about what happened. Just do not allow that to happen again. Strengthen yourself; train your mind just as you do your body.”

Daring to poke a smile at the corners of her lips, Kamui nodded under her Lord’s comforting words. It was also a relief to know that her apparently unshakable partner had an unsavory past he put behind him -- it gave her the means to pave her own path in his likeness so she, too, could serve Xander with the confidence befitting her station.

For now, however, she was still left with a bit of shame and the drive to better herself so as not to allow that to ever happen again. 

#xander #kamui #kamarx #corriander #fire emblem fates #richard #silas #fe14 #wyll #where your loyalty lies #my writings #jakob