#i probably have some flavor of dissociative something but also

[dragongirlbunny]

.

#i probably have some flavor of dissociative something but also #i have no way of knowing what experiences are universal and which ones arent #or what trains of thought are typical versus signs of something wrong #and therapy is is expensive #and also proper diagnoses open me up to discrimination / loss of rights / institutionalization depending on the therapist/psych

[savventeen]

you say the stupidest (sweetest) things

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader rating: 16+ (for swearing) wc: 4.5k prompt: seungkwan + "things you said at 1am" summary: you say stupid shit on the best of days, so when seungkwan comes over when you're having a bad bout of insomnia, the last thing he expects to hear from you is an accidental love confession warnings: insomnia, mental health issues, dissociation mention tags: fluff, friends to lovers, first kiss, reader is a little unhinged but who isn't tbh, they're also highkey allergic to genuine expressions of love/affection but they're working on it, banter, stimming, wrestling like children to try and work through emotions, reader is some flavor of lgbt+ (they make an "i've never done anything straight in my life" joke), reader's pov is dramatic bc they're dramatic oops a/n: this is for @dokyeomin as a part of my emergency commissions (check out the post here) and this was only supposed to be 1k but it 100% got away from me... i hope you still enjoy the fluff and all of the attached nonsense <3

From: Y/n 🔪 [11:47pm]

yo kwannie if i impulsively decide to go to the 24h convenience store how harshly do u think they'll jusdge me for buying every flavor of gummy candy available *judge i wanna see if i can melt them down into one Ultimate Gummy u know for Science

Seungkwan pauses brushing his teeth and stares down at your messages.

To be fair, it's probably not the strangest thing you've ever texted him. He's known you since your second year of college, after all, so he has about half a decade of experience with all of your various y/n-isms under his belt now.

Which is how he knows to trust his gut when it tells him that this probably isn't your usual brand of nonsense.

He spits the toothpaste into the sink and dials your number. You answer on the second ring.

“Before you say anything,” you start, “I was only half-serious about the gummies thing. Like, it's a fun idea, you know? In theory. But in actuality? I do not want to deal with the mess that it would create. Or the smells. Well, the smells might actually be pretty good depending on—“

“Uh-huh,” he interrupts dryly. “Y/n, when's the last time you slept?”

The beat of silence that follows is enough to confirm his suspicions, and the hesitant “Um” that follows is just the icing on the cake, really.

He sighs. “The fact that you have to think about it says enough.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” you argue petulantly. “I just… don’t wanna tell you.”

“Y/n...” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I know, I'm sorry.” And you do sound a little bit sorry, at least. “I'm just. Having an episode. Don't worry about it.”

His shoulders droop as the words sink in. “Episodes” are what you've taken to calling your intermittent bouts of serious insomnia.

Generally speaking, you sleep about as well as the average twenty-something with a caffeine addiction. But every few months or so, it's like your brain completely forgets how to shut off and you end up staying awake for 40+ hours straight.

“Well,” he says, putting his toothbrush away and going back to his bedroom. “You know that ship has sailed, right? You know I'm gonna worry about it.”

Your deep sigh crackles over the line. “Yeah, I know.”

“So. Where're we at this time?”

He mentally braces himself. The two of you have done this enough times now that he knows that you know there's no point in trying to lie or beat around the bush.

“Uhhhhhhh, I'll be hitting the 46-hour mark in about 20 minutes.”

“Aish.”

The fact that you can say that so casually makes his heart hurt. He knows that whenever he doesn't get enough sleep, he makes sure everyone knows it and thus babies him accordingly. But you've always been so intent on hiding anything and everything you struggle with. It's taken years for him to bully himself past the walls you keep hidden behind shit-eating grins and an over-willingness to help.

“Okay,” he says, moving to the dresser to grab an extra set of clothes. “I'll be over in an hour.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” He tosses the clothes onto his bed before going to grab one of his duffle bags, firmly asserting, “You've got an hour to mentally prepare yourself for my arrival.”

“Honey, you've got a big storm comin',” you quote at him without hesitating.

“You sure do,” he assures with a snort. “Better get ready to feel the wrath of my friendship.”

“Why do you have to love so aggressively?”

He rolls his eyes while he throws his clothes into the duffle bag with one hand. “Because it's the only way you'll accept it, idiot.”

“No, it isn't.”

Your pout is so audible through the phone that Seungkwan has to stop and glance at the screen in disbelief.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n. Do not stand there and lie to my face like that.”

“I'm not lying!”

“Not—” He gesticulates wildly with one hand like he's going Can you believe this shit? to an invisible TV audience. “Okay, tell me this: what did you do the last time I sincerely monologued at you about how much you mean to me as a friend, hmm? No bits, no bullshit, just me telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

A beat. “I'll hang up on you, Kwannie, don't test me.”

He barely resists the urge to shove his face into the bedspread and scream. “You're literally proving my point right now!”

“Kwannieeee,” you whine, because you know he's right.

“Also, because I'm never letting you live it down, I will remind you exactly what you did."

You say his name again, but it's muffled, and he assumes it's because you're hiding your face in shame.

“I gave you a sincere, heartfelt speech about how much your friendship has changed my life for the better and made me become a better person—” he ignores your wordless pterodactyl screech, “—and how do you respond? By staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights, slowly raising your arms to give me double finger guns, winking, and then slowly backing out of the room like an awkward mannequin!”

“...”

“Well?” He puts his free hand on his hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before moving to continue packing his overnight bag. “It was literally three months ago.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn't change the fact that I've changed,” you assert.

“Into even more of a nuisance? Yes, you're absolutely right.” He smiles when he hears you scoff playfully.

“Listen here, Boo Seungkwan. You know that well-rested Y/n is ready to throw down with you at a moment's notice. What do you think sleep-deprived, zero-impulse-control Y/n is going to do the second you get to their front door?”

“Stop referring to themself in the third person, hopefully,” he mutters, finally zipping up his bag and heading to the door. “And then after that, they're going to let me bully them into resting.”

“Hmm. The council has heard your proposal, briefly pondered it, and deemed it “unnecessary” on the basis of: they're a bad bitch that can't be stopped by neither time nor physics nor any god of your choosing.”

Seungkwan scoffs as he puts the call on speaker and sits to put on his sneakers. “Well, “the council” can go fuck right off.”

“What if the council would like to fuck right on?”

Pausing in the middle of tying his laces, he blinks down at his phone. “I'm— what?”

“Okay, real talk, what do you think it would mean in this case? Like, would this be like a 'hop on' versus 'hop off' situation? Or more like an 'I'm down for this' versus 'I'm up for this' kinda situation? Because it would have very different outcomes depending.”

Seungkwan decides that this is a debate better left for another time. “I think it means that I'm going to be at your house soon and that if you're not in your pajamas with hot Sleepy Time tea and the series Planet Earth ready to go, there will be consequences.”

“Booooooo, you whore.”

He finishes tying his laces and jabs his finger at the phone. “Consequences, Y/n.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“See you soon, love you, bye.” He hangs up before you can get another word in, but doesn't move from his seated position in the entryway.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out, taking a moment to lean back on his hands while he stares at the back of his front door. Specifically, at the large collage of sticky notes and pictures and doodles that have taken up residence there.

A few of the notes are ones he's gotten from other members of your shared friend group over the years (the one from Chan that reads "if u eat my rice i'll eat ur kneecaps xoxo" hangs proudly in the center, right next to a picture of him sleeping that Seungkwan managed to capture from an extremely unflattering angle). But most of them are from you.

Dumb puns, meme references, bullshit animal facts you made up just to get him to laugh… almost all of them are stupid in that extremely charming way that only you somehow manage to pull off.

But the one he's staring at now is almost completely hidden by other notes and pictures that have been added to the collage. It's a pale blue, the ink starting to fade a bit with time — the first note you ever gave him, back when you two were just people who happened to sit next to each other in an astronomy class.

Even though most of it is hidden, he doesn't need to be able to see all the tiny words you crammed into the small space to already know exactly what it says.

how do u make a space party? u planet :P u looked sad today, hope this makes u feel a little better also if this is 2 forward feel free 2 pretend i don't exist. or punt me in2 the sun idk u'd be doing me a favor tbh

He'd almost skipped class that day because of how bad he'd been feeling, but he'd decided to try and push through. And before that day, neither of you had interacted with more than a polite greeting and the occasional question about the homework.

But then you'd passed him that note, and he'd passed one back that said “that's dumb. but thank you” with a smiley face, and you'd passed another one back that said “do u think lizard people have ever been to space?” and the rest, they say, is history.

Seungkwan shakes his head with a sigh before standing up and grabbing his bag and his keys, striding determinedly out the door. He's got a best friend to take care of.

Seungkwan should be at your place soon, and you're not quite sure what to do in the meantime.

You have your laptop hooked up to the monitor in the living room with Planet Earth queued up, you have the kettle filled with water and ready to go on the stove, and you have mugs and teabags ready on the counter next to it.

The Required Tasks™️ have been completed as much as possible without the arrival of your best friend, and now all that's left to do is wait.

Which, normally, you're not the worst at. You're excellent at entertaining yourself, actually, mostly because there's always something to think about. Whether it be about cute dogs that you've seen over the past week (I wonder if the pomeranian down the street will let me pet him next time), potential plot twists for the new fantasy drama you're a little bit obsessed with (what if Gregothy was cursed the whole time???), or generic ponderings of the human existence as a whole (do souls have the metaphysical equivalent of a fingerprint?), you're pretty much always thinking about something.

Which is totally fine and dandy and cool or whatever when you have the ability to, you know, shut it off. For example, when you need to do something simple and necessary like, oh I don't know, go the fuck to sleep.

You also hate when that manic mental energy somehow translates into kinetic energy as well. It makes you feel like a hamster in a cage, watching yourself running and running and running on that stupid wheel until you exhaust yourself.

Tonight's metaphorical wheel: stimming like wild in the kitchen. Flapping, rocking, (gently) slapping, making weird and fun mouth sounds, the whole shebang.

And again, normally stimming is fun. Stimming is great. But stimming because you feel like if you don't stop moving you're going to literally vibrate out of your skin is, to put it lightly, Not It.

It takes you about ten minutes to work out all of the energy until you no longer feel like your blood was replaced with pop rocks.

With a groan, you lower yourself to the kitchen floor and lay down face first. Because despite how exhausted you feel in every possible way, there's still something like an itch in your conscious, a fucking pea underneath the miles of mattresses that refuse to let you just. Fucking. Sleep.

Your pity party must've lasted longer than you realized (or, more likely, you dissociated for a hot second there) because suddenly someone's knocking at your door at the same time you get a text from Seungkwan.

And you know it's a text from Seungkwan specifically because you got Vernon to help you change your notification settings so that whenever Seungkwan texts you, the "i love you.. bitch" sound clip plays instead of a normal text tone.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate slowly inching your way to the door like an uncoordinated caterpillar, but you swat the thought aside like you’re swatting a gnat and you awkwardly roll to your feet and make your way to your front door.

Without hesitating, you unlock the door, swinging it open with a flourish and sticking a finger right in Seungkwan's face before he can utter a single syllable, forcing him to cross his eyes.

You open your mouth wide like you're going to say something, pause for a moment, then tap your pointed finger to his nose with a quiet "boop."

He blinks, expression turning deadpan, and sighs. "I should have expected this, honestly."

“Yep!”

You let him into your apartment, and he makes himself right at home, mildly bitching at you as he goes to get the tea ready, and something within you shifts.

The inside of your head is still a bit of a dumpster fire, unfortunately, but inside your chest... something clicks into place that you're not sure that you're ready to name. Whatever it is, though, it's soft and warm and kinda feels like your heart is being hugged.

Smiling to yourself, you follow him into the kitchen.

💤 💤 💤 💤 💤

It was pretty much straight to “business” after that, and it only takes Seungkwan one cup of tea and two episodes listening to David Attenborough's dulcet narrations for him to knock right out, leaning heavily against your shoulder on the couch.

Which means it's now the perfect time to sit there and Admire Your Bro™️.

It's rare to see him so still, you think. He's an active guy, in pretty much every sense of the word, and you always feel a little honored when you get to be witness to his quiet, vulnerable moments like this one.

He looks so serene, face smoothed out and painted in soft twirling shades of blue from the screen of the monitor, though you can't see too much of it from this angle. Mostly you just see his cheeks and stupidly adorable button nose.

And you've seen the same thing a million times before — in all kinds of states and expressions — and despite how much you've tried to ignore it, each and every time you've caught yourself noticing just how cute Seungkwan is, it's caused that thing in your heart to scrunch up, full of the L-word feeling that you've kept unnamed for what feels like forever now.

Except, maybe that thing in your heart is tired of scrunching up. Maybe it's decided that it's tired of forever.

Maybe that thing has finally decided to burrow itself out of the walls you've built up because you find yourself finally allowing yourself to think, Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

You don't realize that Seungkwan has completely stilled against you, but you certainly notice when he suddenly throws himself forward so he can turn around and stare at you incredulously. Only he overshoots a little bit and ends up falling off the couch with a squawk and a dramatic flail.

"Oh my god, Kwannie are you okay?!"

He stares at you from where he fell, wide-eyed like you've grown a second head or like the time you'd tried to convince him that birds weren't real and actually just a government conspiracy.

"Am— am I okay? No??"

Now it's your turn to move off of the couch, coming down to his level to see if maybe he hurt himself when he fell. "Fuck, okay, did you hit something? Do you need an icepack?"

Seungkwan being Not Okay is maybe one of the worst things that could ever happen in the entire universe and you're trying not to panic as you reach out to check for injuries.

"No, no, stop—" he bats away at your hands and you stop in your motions, now kneeling in front of him. "I'm not hurt!"

Your brain does the cartoonish screech thing as it comes to a halt, and you furrow your brows. "But.. you just said you're not okay?"

"I'm not!" His eyes are still wide in shock, but he also looks confused and maybe a little bit like he's about to cry?

Oh no. If he cries and it's somehow your fault (because it has to somehow be your fault) you think the world might actually end.

"Okay, uh. I am— confused,” you start, sure you must look as lost as you feel. “But, um, what can I do to help?"

He swallows, and a part of you realizes that he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. "Did you mean it?"

Knowing that it's significant but not yet knowing why, you maintain eye contact. "Mean what?"

"What you just said."

You blink. "...that I'm confused?"

He shakes his head. "No, before that."

You have a hard time remembering what you just said when you're not sleep-deprived and worried you've just somehow accidentally caused irreparable emotional damage to your best friend. "Uh... when I asked if you were okay?"

"No, fuck," and it's a shock for some reason, hearing him cuss right now. You hear him say much worse things all the time, but you think it might be the way he said it — with a kind of desperate vulnerability that you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

That thing in your chest twinges and you think maybe you're the one who's gonna start crying.

He says your name like a plea, and then he's on his knees right in front of where you're kneeling on the floor, reaching forward to cup your face in his palms. "You said— Y/n, you said "holy shit I think I'm in love with you.””

Oh.

You're pretty sure your heart falls right out of your ass and bounces across the rug, judging from the way it comes to a dead stop. You blink at him. Full of new and sinking kind of dread, you whisper, "...I said that out loud?"

He laughs, but it's tinged with incredulity and sounds a little too close to a sob for comfort. "Yes! You did!"

And wait, no, your heart is still stuck in your chest, because you can feel it start pounding against your ribcage in double, triple, quadruple time. He must see the fear in your expression, because suddenly his eyes are narrowed in a determined scowl and he growls, "Oh no you don't."

Then you find yourself going down with a yelp as Seungkwan octopuses himself around you, trapping you within the confines of his surprisingly strong arms and legs as he basically tackles you to the floor.

You try and wiggle away even as you know it's useless, and he grits, "Y/n dammit, answer my question."

"Why were you even awake?” You deflect, getting an arm free and trying to give him a wedgie. “You were supposed to be asleep!"

"I was supposed to be asleep?!” He screeches, easily evading your reach and poking your ribs to get you to reflexively pull back your arm. “You're the one who hasn't slept in literal days! And stop avoiding my question!"

"No!" He has you trapped once again, and you resort to licking his arm.

"Oh my god!"

He muffles his scream into your shoulder, long and frustrated, and then he just... goes limp. He loosens his hold and just lets his full body weight kinda crush the parts of you he's ended up lying on and just... lays there.

This is your chance, you know — to wiggle free and escape and run away from your feelings just like you always have.

But, for some reason, you don't — that scrunched-up thing in your chest holds you back. You stay there, lying beneath Seungkwan on the floor of your living room at one-something in the morning, and the two of you just breathe.

"It's okay, you know," he murmurs after a moment, so quiet you barely hear him over David Attenborough still narrating softly in the background. "If you didn't mean it. It's okay."

Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

And you realize how easy it would be to play it off, to blame it on the sleep deprivation, the way you blurted it out like that — to say (to lie) you meant it completely platonically, like the way you propose to Mingyu at least once a month when he cooks you all dinner.

And you also realize, quite shockingly, that despite how a part of you still desperately wants to run away, the larger part of you wants to stay. Doesn't want to run. Doesn't want to lie anymore.

You swallow heavily, briefly close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. "And if I did? Mean it?"

This time, you do notice when Seungkwan goes still. Slowly, he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, you try to continue.

"Would you— would that— would it be okay? If I meant it? When I— when I said that I'm in love with you? Is— because um, like you said, it's okay if it's not, and uh—"

Your nervous rambling comes to a stop when he once again cups your face, but it's gentler than before, closer to a caress. The whole time you'd been talking he'd been slowly sitting up, and now he's on his knees next to where you're still lying down on the floor, looking down at you like all the hope in the world is somewhere to be found in your expression.

"Y/n." he says your name like it's something precious, and you feel the absurd urge to burst into tears. "It would be very okay." His thumbs make gentle arcs across your cheeks. "And just to be clear: you mean it in a non-platonic sense, right?” He chews on his lip. “Hopefully, in a very much romantic sense?"

Staring at him staring at you, eyes bright with hope and a little bit of wonder... you can only imagine you must be looking at him the same way. Your chest feels like it's full of helium but also like something warm and gooey is sloshing around in there. And all that hope and wonder and holy shit is this actually happening? is causing your tongue to stick to the roof of your mouth, and all you're able to get past your lips is a breathless, "Hopefully?"

"Oh my god," he groans in frustration, but it's light and airy and makes you think of amusement park rides and fairy lights and how you want to annoy the shit out of this man for the rest of his life, if he'll let you. He's shaking his head, smiling, beaming, and he asks, "Why can you never give me any kind of a straight answer, huh?"

"Because it's my life's purpose to be the bane of your existence until the day we die," you say, reaching up to hold his face too. "Also because I've never done anything straight ever in my life."

And then your body is moving before your brain can think it though, dragging him down until you can press your lips to his and finally, finally know what it's like to kiss Boo Seungkwan.

He makes a little noise of surprise, one that you can feel buzz against your lips before he melts into you. And oh, any thoughts you might have had are forcefully ejected from your brain because all you can focus on are his lips pressed to yours, the way they move slowly, gently, turning this chaste kiss into the most scorching experience of your life. His nose bumps against yours and the heat of his warm breath sends tingles throughout your body, and his hands, fuck, his hands are still holding you gently but also with a firmness that feels like he doesn't want to let you go.

And then he's pulling away, and you whine at him because this may be the cruelest thing he's ever done to you ever in your entire life. "Noooooo, why'd you stop?"

"Because, as much as I'd love to continue to make out with you on your floor while an old British man narrates about life on the Serengeti—” he mercifully ignores the way you choke on your spit at the way he talks about making out with you so nonchalantly "—it's past someone's bedtime."

Your mouth drops open in offended shock. Was he actually going to put you to bed like a child? Like you both hadn't just declared your romantic love for each other? "Are you fucking serious?"

He just stands up and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a single raised eyebrow. You take the part of you that finds it annoyingly attractive and promptly smother it, crossing your own arms from your position on the floor.

"I'm not a baby," you definitely don't pout.

"Hmmm...” And then the bastard fucking pouts at you. “But you're my baby."

You blink at him.

"Welp, that was nice while it lasted,” you grunt, rolling to your feet, “but I suddenly need to relocate to Antarctica and become a penguin herder.”

He pulls you into his arms with a laugh, and you let him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he starts after he's held you for a few moments. “This isn't how I ever imagined how us confessing to each other would go.”

You snort.

“But also,” he continues, “it feels very 'us' doesn't it?”

"Yeah,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head from his shoulder.

“Mmm, is someone finally sleepy?” he teases, starting to waddle you both towards your bedroom. “Did all the emotions finally wear you out?”

Instead of nodding, you lightly kick him in the shin and the sappy part of your brain that is currently in charge of everything thinks that his indignant squawk is one of your most favorite sounds.

The sappy part of your brain is right, of course, and when you wake up in your bed 15 hours later and accidentally smack him in the face, the urge to run is a little bit smaller than it was before. And the way he flushes bright red after you sleepily kiss him on the cheek is an image you're going to cherish until the day you die.

#svtsource #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan fic #seungkwan x y/n #seungkwan x you #seungkwan x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #savv writes #savv fics #in my queue world

[ahbeduo]

REALLY?! U WANNA KNOW SUBJECT 2 HCS FROM LIL OLD ME?! HEHEHE I THOUGHT YOUD NEVER ASK!!!

I like to think his name is Dorian :3 leakers were digging in the files a while back and found out that the texture for his model is called “Dorian” so that’s where it came from. Dorian is Greek for “gift”, but also comes from the name Doerain, which means “wanderer” or “exile” which I think is sad but fitting LMAO. (Dorian is also in reference to Oscar Wilde’s novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. If ur interested u should look into it, bc I’d butcher the summary lol)

I like to think that bros a more feral version of Albedo. Albedo is domesticated, Dorian is not HFHDH. He’s much easier to anger, but he wouldn’t put up a fight unless provoked or attacked first.

The reason…he was never trained in any kind of sword fighting style. He can swing a sword around but there’s a 1/99 chance that it would actually hurt someone.

I gave him a Cryo vision bc I mean. Just look at him. That pathetic little mess of a guy is the archetype for Cryo. I like to think he’s a catalyst user (and his best weapon is “Frostbearer” and he relies on it more than his sword hehe. Playstyle wise I’d make him scale off of ATK to contrast Albedo’s DEF scaling)

For his relationships, he prefers Klee’s more upbeat and bouncy nature. She doesn’t seem to mind that he’s not Albedo, and treats him like a brother regardless. He’d take her fishblasting any day <3

Albedo…he’s wary around. Even if they were to make up and all that, his vibe around would probably be very much the feeling you get when you go over to a friend’s house and you feel like you have to impress their parents in order to be allowed in. Does that make sense?? Basically he’s walking on eggshells even if Albedo tells him he’s fine LMAO

While he’s made his appearance a bit different from Albedo (red/maroon/black color scheme, hair either down on his shoulders or in a low and messy braid, and a little thinner than Albedo due to Albedo having built up muscle from sword-wielding), sometimes he switches back to Albedo’s form to mess with people. Specifically the Traveler. He’s a little prankster!!

Even tho he’s used to the cold, he loves warmth. U light up a fire and Dorian will sit so close his hair will singe at the edges. He also loves spicy food <3 (when he lived in Dragonspine he ate like. Unseasoned roasted meat and snow. So he craves any kind of flavor now)

I hc him as aro-ace, and also nonbinary for some fics I write :D I mostly do that just to differentiate between Albedo and him (I write him without a name sometimes so using the “he/him” pronouns twice over without stating who’s speaking is very complicated so I use “they/them” for ease of reading) but also bc I feel like. After 500 years of sleeping in poison dragon tummy soup, one would sort of dissociate from the whole gender thing.

Hehehehehe there u go there’s some hcs 👉👈 I love my little guy he’s so sad and I LOOOOOVE the angst potential with him. Lmk what u think :D

uwahhhh those are yummy, thank you for the snacks 😋

Idk what to say there, just know that your HCs are valid! Some of them, like how rocky his relationship with Albedo is, are something i do think of too! Like yeh they cool, but that doesn't erase the fact Albedo is the favourite child. And and and the fact he likes flavours like spicy- I think he doesn't like very sweet things either

#ask #anonymous #long post #from the anon lol

[cosmonewtmarstherealityshifter]

My Empyrean DR Script (that I will write on here, so that I actually finish it 😭)

Me

First Name: Sebastian

Middle Name: Fynn

Last Name: Riorson

Nickname(s): Seb; Sebby

Pronouns: He/Him

Species: Human

Age: 23

Description: Dark brown hair (wolfcut)(I love wolfcuts, and I don’t care if it’s impractical, I MISS MY LONG HAIR); Olive skin (even though I’m as pale as the moon in my CR); Brown eyes; Lean, muscular body (I need to be in shape here or I will die, so luckily I’m in control of this and can script that I’m not a blob that lays on the couch every single day); Top and bottom surgery scars (you bet your ass I have those); Fully transitioned (love that testosterone); Huge black dragon relic covering my back; Rebellion relic covering my chest; Lots of scars all over my body

Positive Trait(s): Intelligent (I need to be able to not be a dipshit and die immediately); Clever (same thing); Good memory (say bye bye to all those days of dissociation and maladaptive daydreaming in my CR, now I will remember EVERYTHING there); Quiet (of course I’m quiet, have to keep up the mysterious act, plus I’m too overstimulated and socially awkward for this shit); Thoughtful (my mind is always stuffed); Nice (even though I’m quiet and don’t talk much, I am pretty nice when you talk to me first)

Negative Trait(s)(yes, I’m gonna script them, just to give myself some flavor): Trusting (making friends wise, always end up getting hurt or stabbed in the back, literally and figuratively)

Dragon Type: Black Morningstartail (I JUST LOVED TAIRN SO MUCH, I HAD TO MAKE THE DRAGON I’M BONDED TO A BLACK MORNINGSTARTAIL TOO)

Dragon Name: Aodhan (do we know how to pronounce his name here? no. will we script that we do know it? yes)

Signet Power(s): Time Manipulation (can go back in time) and Reality Manipulation (can make my imagination real life)

Weapon(s): Daggers and Swords (I love me some sharp things)

Parent(s): None (dead)(it’s literal canon that Xaden’s parents died[along with all the other parents that were part of the rebellion]so yeah)

Sibling(s): Xaden Riorson; Liam Mairi (adoptive brother)

Other Family Member(s): Brodhi Durran (cousin)

Best Friend(s): Xaden Riorson (I’m besties with my brother, I know, I can do that); Liam Mairi (same thing); Violet Sorrengail (I’m the one who ends up being the body guard for her, not Liam); Brodhi Durran (I love my family); Ridoc Gamlyn (I adore him, it’s gonna be interesting all the talks we will have [I am scared that most of them will be about sex he had or people that he likes, help me]); Heaton (I love my non-binary pals); Garrick Tavis

Friend(s): Imogen Cardulo (I love her hair); Rhiannon Matthias (bisexual queen, go girl)

Partner(s): None (I am single forever, thank the almighty gays)

Gender Identity: TransGuy

Romantic Orientation: Aromantic

Sexual Orientation: Asexual

Other Orientation(s): Ambiamorous; Panalterous; Panaesthetic

Extra Fact(s): Liam does not die (I was sobbing when it happened); Homework is effortless and easy always (I don’t want to work too hard or make it take up so much time); I am a skilled painter/artist (something to do when I’m not doing homework, have training, have secret rebellion meetings with Xaden and the rest, or guarding Violet); I wear ear plugs a lot of the time (because I’m overstimulated a lot, but I still manage); Probably have some anxiety and PTSD (not that I don’t have anxiety already and probably have some form of PTSD here-); I keep my head easily (no panicking for me, though, even though I know, realistically, that contrasts with the anxiety, but I want to live and also have my sparkle at the same time); I know how to pronounce Aodhan’s name perfectly; Garrick and Imogen are together (Imogen needs her love too); I cannot die; None of my best friends or friends can die; Xaden, Liam, and Brodhi cannot die

Specific Affirmations For This DR: “I am with Aodhan”; “I am Xaden’s brother”; “I am in Basgiath College”; “I am in my dorm room”; “I am training with Ridoc”

Safe Word/Phrase: “Put the lime in the coconut and shake it all up.” (don’t ask)

Probably will add to this more. Maybe will post some individual scenarios for this DR.

#cosmoposts #marsposts #marsrambles #cosmorambles #shifting community #reality shifting #shiftblr #reality shifting community #shifting realities #reality shifter #shifter #reality shift #empyrean dr #fourth wing dr #iron flame dr #shifting blog #shifting thoughts #shifting script #dr script #dr scripting #desired reality #shifting #shifting antis dni #shift #shifters #shifting reality #shifting diary #shifting consciousness #reality shifting blog #reality shifting diary

[synthetic-sonata]

i just consumed so much sparklecare content and made an au of my oc pink . say hi to razzle (b) dazzle(d)! he is now everyone elses problem.

more info under da cut

he's very similar to uni in some ways, and that isn't intentional i've had pink for a WHILE. they would b good friends tho. i gave him mega-sads instead of ultra mega-sads ( normalest sentence ) just to differentiate. Bc i do not want ppl to call him a clone of uni they are very much diff people just with the same sort of outward flavor.

speaking of which he probably has more afflictions i just didnt know how to sparklecare-ify having ADHD and probable BPD. nor did i rlly want to make terms for it. likely has a physical affliction as well before coming to the hospital i just didn't know what to give him

he has two prosthetics! one prosthetic arm, one leg. yes, this obviously means those two limbs were removed from him somehow. most people assume and theorize the staff at sparklecare did this during a surgery, but... pink gets very dodgy about this topic and never answers it in a clear way.

due to him being very sociable and easy to get along with he's friends with most patients . sort of like a Hospital Celebrity. he's known and he's cool and he's chill so ppl like him.

also i'm not sure if it matters but the bro and scatterbrained art is pulled from the official website, which is prob obvious

his favorite holidays are palentines day and kissmas and its obvious. loves anything associated with love and that whole aesthetic.

either has the default rainbow armband or the ITP band ( he's usually pretty compliant .. mostly out of fear. he does and will join or help escape attempts sometimes tho )

sleeps a lot. possibly narcolepsy possibly just not that ( like. napping a lot or depression naps or naps bc hes dissociating and or understimulated. )

more traits that fit him that i couldn't fit in da sheet:

creative

he's often found doodling idly or singing and making music in his spare time. he's expressed a desire to become an idol or an actor in his future. ( referencing how canon pink/razz is an idol robot lol )

sleazy/flirtatious

honestly this one is a give or take but it's a trait he eventually has. he definitely flirts with people often and casually. whether or not he actually sleeps around is a give or take though because i can see it either way, but, probably. he has an Allure to him. and he's. hypersexual so i mean yea.

egotistical/self-absorbed

this one isn't super bad, but he hypes himself up a lot and compliments himself casually. it's mostly to make him feel better about himself... but he does sometimes put other people down in order to put him up. it's always jokingly, at least... mostly, but it can become a problem later down the line. it doesn't feel good to be called lesser to someone!

tech-savvy

he's probably edited videos and audio a lot. and is or wanted to be a streamer/youtuber.

outgoing/extroverted

outgoing and affectionate are sort of hand in hand for pink. although, he has a very high social battery.... somehow, and is always around people or talking to him. he's also pretty impulsive.

affectionate

sometimes overly so. he'll even be affectionate or call people nicknames who he really should be at odds with - this includes staff. he's incredibly chill with most of the staff, or at least seems to be... giving them all nicknames and talking with them as if they were casual friends ( they aren't ). or it's to annoy them. it's not really clear with razz, ever.

presumably, this is a bad way of coping with how shitty people treat him by acting as if they're his friends - or something.

sensitive ( if you told razzy you hated him or smth he'd take it super personally but he'd come off as not offended but he'd think about it way too much. surprisingly he doesn't do this with like threats. he's numb to threats almost entirely )

conflict avoidant ( mostly explained in chill but they prob should be separate things there just wasnt enough space lol )

soda/sweets junkie

juvenile

he casually swears a lot and says a lot of sex jokes or things like that. Very casually, once again.

dissociative

his response to anything traumatic is usually just being really zoned out and dissociative after - due to this people think he doesn't really have a proper response to trauma. he does! people just don't think the zoning out counts as one! he has others, but he tries to hide any other trauma response for when he's alone.

fear of hospitals/medical stuff/etc

surprisingly, this didn't happen after being admitted to sparklecare, but it very much didn't help. goes hand in hand with claustrophobia and a lot of other fears he won't admit to. he's gotten numb over time. it still messes with him badly, but that mostly shows in the form of him dissociating... or in rare cases, having a panic attack. he only really shows emotion when he's in very very bad mental health or alone. at the very least he has people to talk to - if he didn't, he'd likely have completely broken by now.

thats a lot of things and i could probably find more to describe him but yea. He should prob also be more saturated n simplified but ehhhhhh. My oc my funny my silly he gets to slightly bend rules cuz he isnt in the comic its fiiine.

( plus its kinda symbolic of how many people in universe would see pink as surprisingly mentally well-adjusted and fine considering the situation he's in, which reflects in him not being 100% saturated. but he is. it just doesn't show outwardly )

#aria doodlez #sparklecare hospital #sparklecare oc #sparklecare #pink #pink ( oc ) #pink ( sparklecare ) #eyestrain #eyestrain cw

[nebula-award]

rottmnt headcannon time

Nov 5, 2023: This is from Jan 11, 2021 btw!! Old old old headcanons but I still like them

Raph 

(Head’s up- almost everything I headcannon on the big guy is me projecting)

-Genderfluid/Genderqueer (thanks sascha) Panromantic Demiromantic Asexual

-He’s the least educated on LBGTQIA+ terms (that honor goes to Leo)

-This kinda caused him to go through a sexuality crisis and for a while he thought he was aroace like Donnie until Leo helped him out with understanding the aro spectrum

-He has social anxiety. It’s a moderate case- little on the extreme side. (Let me project)

-He has separation anxiety (extreme case)

(-It’s kind of implied in S1:21A, but) I imagine Raph lost Splinter and his brothers in NY when he was little, and since then he’s had nightmares and fears of losing his family or waking up one day and they aren’t there. (Time to write some angst :D)

-Very introverted (unless he’s in a fight, then he pretty talkative because he’s more confident)

-Dyslexic (Donnie’s the one that helps him if he can’t understand a word)

-He tries really hard to finish the book he’s reading but either gets too bored, forgets about it, or reading it gets too hard (if it’s the third option he’ll try to read it again bc he doesn’t like quitting)

-ADHD (inattentive type)

-Chews on his mask tails (I love this headcanon so much and I do the same thing with my hair)

-Overprotective (like if you lay a hand on his family, you’re probably going to die by his hands)

-Loves food, like anything with tons of flavor.

-Not a fan of clothing. Even with clothes measured to fit him, he won’t wear them. He’ll do it if it’s needed for a mission or for something of importance.

-He’s a decent cook. Not as good as Mikey, but the family enjoys his meals.

-The only thing he can’t make is popcorn (He’ll always accidently burn at least one bag)

-Developed a minor dissociative disorder and his anxiety became more extreme when Leo became leader

-Tried to learn German (He’s not the best, but the words are easier for him to understand)

Donnie

-Nonbinary Aromantic Asexual

-Doesn’t mind he/him but prefers if people used they/them

-Ambivert (More of a introvert)

-Hates physical contact

-But LOVES compression. Every blanket he owns is weighted, his battle shell is a pressure stim, loves hoodies because of how heavy they are (Projecting, projecting)

-He has depression 

-Perfectionist

-Slight OCD

-When Donnie cooks, he’ll spend hours in the kitchen and no one is allow in. (It doesn’t taste good after either) (He’s better with machines)

-Knows a good of ASL (American sign-language) and JSL (Japanese sign-language) He studied ASL more than JSL because they live in NY.

-Learned some German when he helps Raph study the language, and French when he was helping Mikey, Leo taught him some Spanish

Leo

-Bisexual Gray-Aromantic Demiboy (Prefers neopronouns)

-He has imposter syndrome. He doesn’t feel like he’s doing enough for the team and copes by trying to seem overconfident. (This also plays a factor in his becoming leader as he feels like he doesn’t deserve the role)

-He has a dissociative disorder

-Extremely extroverted

-ADHD (hyperactive)

-Red/Green colorblind (hence why blue is his favorite color) 

-He’ll usually go into flight mode and freeze if he’s in really bad danger (the brothers have tried to snap him out of it) then he’ll joke it off

-Jokes are his comfort (Kind of cannon)

-NEVER LET THIS MAN INTO A KITCHEN. The last time he cooked, the lair almost burned down.

-Speaks nearly perfect Spanish. He picked up a few words when with Señor Hueso leading to him asking the Hueso to teach him Spanish. (He was a surprisingly fast learner.) He has a harder time reading Spanish.

-Loves singing songs in Spanish

Mikey

-Gay, (still haven’t decided a gender but I’m thinking agender, trans, or boyflux)

-Bites/chews his nails when his nervous, excited, or overstimulated

-Best chef award goes to him

-He’s the one that’s always trying something new

-Not a fan of learning languages. (It’s just not something he enjoys doing) With that said, he can read a fair amount of French, yet he can’t speak it as well.

April

-Omniromantic Asexual

-She’s a choir and theatre kid

-Introduced Leo and Donnie to the theatre world 

Mad Dogs

- They all are nearly fluent in Japanese and English. This is mainly because Splinter wanted them to learn a few languages and even encourages them to learn more.

- the turtles base their ages off April’s age (16) and who Splinter claimed the oldest and youngest to be. 

-They throw a Karaoke competition in the lair sometimes. (Leo is the reigning champion as always) 

-Leo and April bond over singing and sing duets all the time (No one in the base complains) 

-Leo and Donnie like to sing “Confrontation” from Jekyll & Hyde ALL. THE. TIME. 

-Donnie and Leo aren’t allowed in the kitchen. 

-Leo and Raph learn to co-lead

-Whenever Raph is having a (social) problem he’ll either go to Leo or April for help

-Splinter used to call them by the color of their marks Donnie was purple, Mikey was orange, Leo was red, Raph was green. (And I’m going to write a fic later I swear) (NOV 11, 2023: I DID WRITE THAT FIC)

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt #headcannons

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hey, trying to figure stuff out. Would this count as a extremely traumatic situation??

(I think I might have OSDD, so it would be a lot, not sure if enough though :/ (and I do know that trauma affects people differently/can't be measured stuff - it just seems stupid that that would be enough))

Tw for medical stuff, forced restraint, emotional negligence?

So, I was maybe 3 or 4, I had this like intestinal issue with a kidney or something and I had to take daily medicine for almost two years. Because I was young, the doctor would only give me liquid medicine, despite me being fully capable to take pills (stupid as hell, but anyway)

This liquid medicine was AWFUL. The closest description I can think of is like stomach bile mixed with the super artifical grape flavoring stuff. (Some grape flavors still make me gag)

Naturally, I didn't want to take this. I would run and hide and fight my parents when I had to take it. My dad had a super stressful and demanding job, so he often had a short temper due to tiredness whenever he was home, which was rare. I don't think it started like this, but it got to the point where, I would be hiding, my parents would find me, pull me out of my hideaway corner to hold me down and force me to drink the medicine, with me screaming the whole time. This would sometimes take a couple hours and i would sometimes throw up afterward, which would restart the process

I have a single very vivid memory of being held down for the medicine, only I have recently realised that I remember it as more floating above my body and the memory feela very weird, almost sticky, if that makes sense. My emotions also didn't feel right. My emotions and thought process felt very detached although I remember frantically struggling and having strong feelings of terror. (This seems like dissociation to me, so I'm thinking this is probably when the basis of my system formed, but ... :/ idk, it was medicine that I needed or I would like perish or something)

Anyway, I think my parents were tired from these hour long fights and probably didn't explain things properly to me or didn't know how big of an affect it was having on me, so it wasn't dealt with emotionally as well as it should have been (running theory anyway)

Then, I know my parents aren't exactly emotionally healthy for me, but my family situation would be very borderline for any emotional abuse/neglect signs that I have found (to give more context)

Overall, I wanted an outside perspective on things. Tried not to exaggerate as well as fully explain what was going on/my emotions at the time that I can remember

Thanks for helping btw and feel free to ask clarifying questions, I want to make sure I get an accurate opinion, so I'll respond (tbh, it doesn't bother me anymore or those that I believe are my alters, although it did greatly at the time)

-🐐

Hey anon,

First of all I'm so sorry about what you went through. That's horrible and I can't imagine what you may be dealing with as a result of this.

Just so you're aware, Mod Allison and I (Bun) have co-wrote this response.

Would this count as a extremely traumatic situation??

Mod Allison: Were you extremely traumatized by it? Then yes. Some things are more likely to cause trauma than others, but the reality is that any situation, no matter how seemingly benign, can be traumatic. What makes something traumatic or not is how your brain responds to and processes it.

Mod Bun: Exactly, an "extremely traumatic situation" is subjective to the person experiencing the event. Everyone is built differently, therefore everyone responds to trauma at varying degrees. That is why traumas that some regard as minor can have devastating effects on others, vice versa. When talking about what counts as traumatic, it matters less what happened and more how you psychologically responded.

Mod Allison: Medical stuff is often traumatic for people. Situations involving force are often traumatic for people. Childhood situations are also more likely to be traumatic simply because kids often lack the context and understanding that allow them to contextualize and cope with what's happening. Even something simple like a child being introduced to a friendly dog might be traumatic if the kid doesn't have enough context or awareness of things to know that the dog is safe and friendly or the kid doesn't feel like they can say no. Feeling unsafe, or feeling like you have no control of the situation is sufficient for trauma, no matter how much actual control or safety you have in the situation.

Mod Allison: Your trauma is valid even if it doesn't match any of the classic examples of traumatic situations.

Mod Bun: I hope you have found healing, and we're here for you if you need anything. Please take care.

-Mod Allison & Bun

#mod allison #trauma talks #🐐 #abuse #medical abuse #child abuse #mod bun

[tales-of-cerano]

As 2022 comes to a close I'm starting to look back and reflect on the past few years, something I haven't really done much in the past. Now I will for anyone who is willing to listen. You don't know me, I probably don't know you very well, but I invite you to do the same.

2020: The Year of Pain

An edgy start I know but a lot happened in this year. Fear in many flavors, opportunities closed, regression we're all themes of the year. For me personally nothing terribly tragic happened. I most likely had COVID and gave it to my whole studio in the beginning of January before I even heard of it (parents friends who had a business trip to china got a weird illness and it just worked it's way as it does). A hiring freeze locked me out of an opportunity with a university conservatory that I was extremely excited for. I felt lonely without my friends. Besides COVID I was consistently stressed about future graduation and career choices. It's a year that went so slow yet now I forget most of it.

2021: The Year of Transition

I went through 3 major transitions in my life during this year: graduated college, started a salaried job, socially and medically transitioned. Way more than I expected and probably more than I could handle. It's weird now that I think about it how much actually happened. The imposter syndrome took a lot of the good out of those accomplishments at the time but now I am starting to see it. I also will flex here because it wasn't really recognized but I was valedictorian of my college. My class rank was 1 out of not just the major/department I was in but also the entirety of the NCState class of 2021. Like 1/6000 people. I don't tell that to anyone really cuz I don't want to be a bragging asshole but I worked really hard for it so I'll flex in front of internet strangers who don't know me.

2022: The Year of Change

Not a lot of "things" happened this year like last year but I finally had enough time to actually sit down and reflect on things because of things slowing down a bit. I worked with a therapist for a few sessions. I started listening to Healthy gamer gg stuff and started thinking about my mental health as something that was a part of me rather than something to solve. My outlook changed. I can safely say that I am 1000% better with being comfortable with myself than I was before. Anxiety attacks over things went from being dissociative and lasting for weeks to being something manageable. It's nothing I ever thought would ever happen. I think the biggest thing that kick-started my change was to give things the benefit of the doubt and try them. I used to fight meditation saying it was something that wouldn't work for me cuz I'm too in my head until I just said you know what let's try. What's gonna happen it won't work and I waste an hour. So I did and now its one of the most influential things of my life.

2023: The Year of Forgiveness

This upcoming year I'd like to focus on letting myself live with mistakes I've made in the past and let go of some deep shame I have. I was dumb and while I never did anything like commit a violent crime against anyone I still feel like I caused a lot of emotional damage like bullying people in middle school and being critical to my friends. It's all stuff that I've either worked though, became aware, and changed. Of course I don't want to just toss it aside like it didn't happen but I want to recognize that while it was something I did it's also something that I can forgive myself for and move past as a better person.

This might change and who knows it might be another year of pain. Could be anything tbh. I'm open to it.

I wish anyone who reads this an insightful new year. Thinking and analyzing the past can be helpful to some. Tho if you have issues with deep and intense trauma I recommend you talk to professionals first. Exploring the past can cause things I think and make things worse when there is trauma.

#inner thoughts #year review #reflection #mental health #2023

[queerautism]

(This is a vent, feel free to delete if you don't want to deal with it. I just don't know anyone else who might understand)

Cw: medical stuff, ableism, and gaslighting

I have chronic pain and I'm so sick of abled people acting like it's impossible to mask pain if it's really bad. Like I've seen people say it's impossible to appear calm if your pain is at a 10 on a scale of 1-10. It makes me so mad because that exact kind of thing has been used to invalidate and dismiss my pain. I've been gaslit by family and doctors into feeling like my pain is actually just me being lazy, and so I constantly push through horrible pain. I've also been abused a lot so I feel like I have to hide anything that might bother other people, I feel like I have to always be easy going and happy. Even when I'm in so much pain that my legs give out the moment I try to stand and I can't form coherent sentences without great difficulty, I can still make myself smile and act like nothing's wrong. If you're at a 10/10 pain wise for days or even months and then eventually you might just start to dissociate. My body and mind has given up on crying or trying to get sympathy or help, it just ends up getting me hurt even more. But now ableds act like that means my pain isn't that bad. There's just no winning. If I act the way ableds expect from someone in a ton of pain then I'm being annoying and overdramatic and probably just faking for attention/to get out of work, but if I don't act the way they expect then my pain must not be that bad and I'm just an idiot who doesn't know what it's like to actually be in pain. I recently had surgery and the recovery wasn't even as bad as some of my bad pain days. I've had tendon scrapings while fully conscious and those aren't as bad as a bad day. I just want ableds to acknowledge that they don't understand what chronic pain is like. They can't even imagine what it's like. I'm literally unable to even imagine what life without pain is like because it's such a constant in my life. When people talk about afterlives, immortality, or reincarnation I find the idea horrible because I can't imagine what it's like to exist without pain. My brain interprets every kind of stimulus as pain. Slight pressure=pain, holding a glass of ice water=pain, having a fan blow air on my skin=pain, eating something with a strong flavor=pain, wearing stiff fabric clothes=pain. It's horrible and exhausting and ableds acting like I'm faking or overstating it just makes it worse. The only time I'm not in pain is when I'm asleep, and even then I sometimes have pain in my dreams.

But ableds will still act like they know what real pain is better than I do because they broke their arm as a kid. (I'm not saying they haven't had real pain or anything, it's just frustrating that they can't understand the difference between needing to deal with a temporary injury/illness and just existing in a constant state of agony)

Sorry to dump all of this on you. I'm just so tired of ableds. I know this might make me sound suicidal, but I'm really not. I know I can still enjoy life despite all my pain, I just want the people around me to understand what I'm dealing with so they might be more sympathetic to my struggles. I want people to understand that after a certain point, expressing how much you're suffering can just be exhausting. If you're in so much pain that you cry then it can be cathartic, but if that pain keeps going then eventually you're going to run out of tears and the energy to cry. And if your main method of coping is dissociation, then crying or even acknowledging the pain can just bring your attention back to it and make it feel even worse.

I want people to understand that some of us are just in horrible pain all the time and it completely changes the way we live. I don't even need sympathy I just want people to understand that so they stop acting like I'm lazy or a liar. But I always just get met with "umm you can't be calm when you're at 10/10 pain bc that's the worst pain u can imagine" if I'm in so much pain that I literally can't imagine being in any more or any less pain because it's so overwhelming it feels literally inescapable and never ending then I think I'm allowed to call that a 10/10, and when that happens my brain basically shuts down and I don't show any emotion.

It doesn't help that I'm autistic and I don't show a lot of natural facial expression. I feel like I have to act out my own emotions to communicate them*, and doing that with pain just does more harm that good.

(*idk if this is common thing. I just tend to feel like I'm an actor in a play. I'm not pretending to feel things I don't feel. But when I'm happy I don't naturally look happy, I feel like I have to tell myself to act happy if I want people to know I'm happy)

Sorry this went on so long. I just needed somewhere to vent and I felt like you would be understanding of this kind of thing.

I absolutely 100% understand. Chronic pain is fucking awful to deal with and so many people are just fucking assholes about it. I'm in so much pain all of the time.

Also I do the acting out emotions thing too, otherwise I'm very flat / seem angry? I call it doing cartoon emotions lol

[nerves-nebula]

Went to a religious school for half my life and it somehow didn't click that my family was Catholic. Maybe I was just a dumb kid, but I just assumed it was just like that yknow? Being around religious people and no other basis to go off of, you just tend to accept that it's normal or your normal. Probably not under the same circumstances, but it could be what happened with you

idk the way i describe it is that i literally was just not paying attention. we had religious babysitters and we went to church and i was aware there were different flavors of Christianity but i never gave a shit about it so i didnt bother learning the name until i was like, 15. and before that the only memory i have of asking was asking my mom and her giving some kind of weird half-answer that i didn't understand.

but my older siblings FOR SURE knew we were catholic, and my oldest sister firmly believes i dissociated about it cause she doesn't think theres any way i missed all the times the word Catholic was said.

jokes on her tho im pretty sure I have ADHD so if i dont think something is important to remember i literally don't give it space in my brain to live. ive forgotten the names of people i LOVE why would i intentionally remember the word Catholicism as a 10 year old??

also I thought my dad was an atheist?? but apparently he was just a different kind of christian who didn't really vibe with a lot of my moms beliefs about god??

for example, once mom made us attend a thing where a woman came to our church and talked about how she died and god had shown her the afterlife and then sent her back to tell people, about it, and my dad was like "pfft yeah right. we each only get one life." and clearly didn't believe her.

#nnstuff #ask #christianity

[secondswordedge]

i decided to make this account today.

i've been struggling ideologically with how i feel for a long time. i will say i have a dissociative disorder that causes me to feel a multitude of different (and often contrasting ways) on one issue, which gets to be really difficult and confusing when i'm trying to make my mind up about something. on and on for years now, i've been back and forth between gender critical and trans affirming spaces. i've been identifying as nonbinary for years now, but i'm starting to think more about gender ideology and how i began to feel this way.

through reading more about detransitioners, gender crit/radfem ideas, i resonate with a lot of the seemingly more common feelings that detransitioned people (especially women) often seem to have. i guess i would consider myself homosexual (though i feel wrong admitting that, due to the gender identities of the people i have been interested in, despite their biological sex - i'm just worried about disrespecting or hurting them, i consider myself an empath and care deeply about the feelings of others). my first kiss was with a girl on my 13th birthday and i identified as a lesbian for a long time but dealing with dysphoria as well as being attracted to transmasculine and other nonbinary people made me change my descriptor to bisexual, and then to queer when people assumed i liked males (which made me very uncomfortable). another thing is i'm autistic, and have been told that may affect my perception of gender, which i think is true, especially since i tend to be extremely literal about things. i've struggled with trauma and mental health disorders (eating disorders, bpd, complex ptsd, dissociative disorders) that make me feel like my body is my enemy. i thought the pain and fear i felt at puberty must have been dysphoria, but i think now i was just scared of becoming an adult woman because then men would end up hurting me more/i'd become more appealing to men, and people would care about me even less than i felt they already did. i think in some ways i've always felt very "behind" my chronological age (19), probably due to trauma and developmental delays, so growing up was even scarier to me because i mentally feel so much younger than i am on the outside.

i do want to clarify that something that is very difficult for me when looking into radfem ideology is that i have been hurt for being gender nonconforming and identifying as nonbinary, including by radical feminists who i looked up to. i don't want to perpetuate hate against queer people. i love queer people with all of my heart. my partner identifies as nonbinary, many of my friends are some flavor of trans, i do not want to hurt them by any means. i am scared for them though, especially those who want to or have transitioned medically. i don't put it past the pharmaceutical industry to have a stake in chemically castrating an entire generation of queer people.

i have far more thoughts about this than just what i'm able to put on here, but i hope i can have some support on this blog and that people can relate to my story. i want to learn more but i also want to stay kind and open minded. i would appreciate responses to this!

-s, 5/2/22

#radfem #radical feminist #radical feminism #gender crit #gender critical #detrans #detransition

[globophobicligyrophobiccontent]

MLP Eg Fanfiction: We can still party

By: Sannaturek at AO3

April is almost near again.

Wow, he really can't believe another full year of life is here again. And within weeks from his birthday, Snail can't avoid feeling happy, and scared...

As normal, a certain happy pink girl wants to throw Snails a birthday party at the park near Canterlot High. She usually does this for everyone, every year.

Usually this wouldn't be a problem, who wouldn't enjoy a good birtyday with friends, food, color and music? Snails didn't.

The social pressure for that day was big for him, since Snails wasn't exactly a fan of attention. Also, BALLOONS.

This was something he didn't tell anyone, even his best friend, Snips. But, balloons? Why would someone ever be scared of balloons? I tell you why, from Snails perspective, those weren't the nice party decorations and toy that everybody see. Oh no, balloons are something straight up from hell, noisy, squeaky and even worse, explosive demons.

The mere presence of balloons at his visual range put him in alert mode, waiting there and never knowing when those demons in disguise will pop loudly and unexpectedly. He just couldn't handle the noise and surprise.

Someone like him, who a time ago worked for someone as important as Sunset Shimmer, couldn't get the privilege of being scared of something as pitiful as a balloon. Also, the fact of being scared of it was not meaningful enough. Snails think you would (and should) laugh at him for that, that it's ok if you do. So he just pretend everyone is ok, every time, every year.

And with some like Pinkie Pie at you school, evade them isn't as easy as pie as can be sometimes.

He himself sometimes fell like the pressure it's at it's limits and wants to tell someone, but he's not in the mood for people to laugh at his fear, and with something as silly as a balloon. Years lf pressure just accumulated inside him.

Maybe someday, someone will know.

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

*After school, in the corridors*

*Snips: Hey dude, that important day is coming sooooon! How do you feel about it? I'm already looking for another perfect gift this year.

-Snails: Hey, you are right, thanks for that! But, well, fine I guess...

*S: Hey my guy, are you ok now? Every year since I knew you it's the same with you and feeling down. It's the seasonal flu taking you down this days?

-S: No! Of course no, I'm not, I'm completely fine! Whatdoyoumean?

*S: We should talk to Pinkie so she gets time to get everything ready and starts party planning. Where do you feel like doing your birthday this time? Last year near the lake was amazing! And now the field at the park near the school it's pretty and it's big, so we can get good places, but Pinkie should know better and(...)

As soon as Snails heard 'Pinkie' and 'Party Planing' his mind got down the clouds and reacts clear and loud (With a nervous touch on his voice)

-S: No! I mean, n-no, I thinks it's kinda early to get ready, and I want something small this year. I know Pinkie isn't that kind of p-party planner but we- I! I can make it work...

*S: Ok, if you feel like that... Heeey... Your voice is weird, are you stuttering? It's everything ok up there? *Snips says and point to Snails head*

-S: Y-yes! Everything is fine all right! *He says while walking slower and straighting up his gaze*.

*S: Dude, friend, guy, Snails, I know I usually not the type of person to tell you this, but if you feel bad inside, don't doubt to tell me, I'm your best friend, the cream to your berry, the flesh of your nail, the, the, well you know. The point is that we are friends since like, forever! There's nothing I can't do for you and I'll be there when something is wrong.

For a moment as he heard this words, Snails felt a little relief in his body, now moving a little faster, enough to catch up Snips.

-S: Thanks Snips, actually I really needed to hear that...

*S: It's nothing... Heeeeey why frown faces? Wanna go eat something now? I heard of a new sandwich place near here!

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

Snails didn't even noticed how 2 weeks flew by, and he was a day away from his birthday. The only important things about his birthday that he remembered from it('Cause he most part of the time, the anxiety of thinking about his party, people and the balloons made him dissociate) was thas Pinkie asking him for cake flavors (He answer dark chocolate and strawberries), a theme for the party(As normal, Spring Days) and the decorations(This wasn't a lot in discussion since we know the Pinkie Style, but she just wants to be sure the day is perfect for everyone).

Snails didn't told anyone about the balloons yet, since just thinking about it makes him dizzy. But when he got out of his classroom during lunch, he saw Pinkie carrying balloons to an all purpose classroom that wasn't being used. He got light headed just from seeing that, knowing what's coming tomorrow. So he and Snips ended up eating too little near the windows, in a table that nobody usually uses because it's far from the other table's at the cafeteria.

Snips knew now that something it's not ok now, because Snails only ask to eat in that table just when he feels bad or sick in some way and want to get away from people. Snips didn't want to bother Snails since felt that he already was having a hard time, so he didn't say anything during lunch.

At the end of the classes, Snail saw Pinkie Pie near the auditorium with her friends, she was waving very fast at him, clearly saying hi and wanting him to notice. He nervously waved and said hi, then rapidly proceed to go away, almost running to the entrance.

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

That night, as every night before, Snails dreamed about how he was bullied in his old school. Classmates popping balloons usually to scare him, leaving him behind, and no adult doing anything to stop it. Even Snips was there, just saying how lame he was.

In that moment, his phone sounds an alarm and wakes him up. Clearing out his eyes and drinking a glass of water, he saw the calendar, April 12, his birthday. Ok, he clears his mind for today. His parents made him breakfast, and give him a gift, the jacket that he wanted! Amazing!

The day at school goes as every year, everyone saying happy birthday, some people and even teachers giving little gifts, and even his classroom was decorated with green streamers, his favorite color. For now he didn't saw any balloons, so he was pretty calm.

As usual, at lunch, Pinkie Pie get up and says:

-P: HEY EVERYBODY, LET'S SING HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO A VERY SPECIAL PERSON TODAY! AND WISH OUR FRIEND SNAILS A VERY HAPPY DAY!

Everyone sings happy and Snails it's just flustered from all the attention, even a little tired, but he knows the intentions are the best, so he puts on his best happy face.

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

At the end of the classes, as usual in a birthday, Pinkie goes to talk to Snail.

-P: Hey birthday boooy! How was everything going?! I hope great because now it's just time to get better!

As he laughed, he noticed Snips wasn't with them anymore, and before hes can ask something, Pinkie blindfolds him, leading them to as he can feel, grassy, windy terrain. When Pinkie stops and get the green fabric out of his eyes, he sees 'a lot' of people (for him everything it's a lot so don't take his opinion in count)

-¡SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SNAILS! WOHOO! YAAY WOOO!

A desolate part of the park was nicely decorated he saw a lot of friends and classmates that Pinkie probably just invited, Snips was there, with a big box that looks like a gift, there was foods, drinks, a table full of gifts, another with activities to play, and BALLOONS, there weren't a lot, but yes a considerably big number, nothing that he could handle, or that's what he thought....

The party went as usual, just inner interruptions for Snails everytime a balloon popped, because someone accidentally popped it, or the wind put it in a spiky zone. He had to downplayed it saying he had hiccups or something similar. The food and drinks were delicious as always, the gifts were amazing, and even the games were fun, the cake was so tasty, the people invited was giving him proper personal space. It was actually a pretty nice afternoon for Snails.

It was almost time to go.

For a moment, he noticed Pinkie Pie disappeared, making him a little anxious. But when she came back, a chill ran down his spine. Pinkie Pie brought a bag full of inflated balloons, and began to distribute them to everyone there. Snails, reluctantly, picked one of the balloon Pinkie gave him. Faking the best smile he could at this point, he looked at Snips trying to say help me out with his eyes, but Snips was too excited for the games to understand undertones. He was hyperventilating and sweating like crazy at this point, but nobody noticed with all the voices talking and sounds of the exterior. He felt like crying, but he wasn't going to demonstrate weakness in front of his best friends, and not in his birthday, not for some stupid balloons.

-P: Ok everybody, last new game here! I gave everyone of you a balloon! Inside every balloons there's tiny paper with a number! When I say go, you can pop your balloons and check wich numbers you get! Then before you leave, look at the table over there and check with prize you got! I hope you have fun with this one!

Now making weird faces of disgustand fear, and with his legs shaking, Snails took some steps back before everything started. Snips noticed it and tried to follow him, but at the moment he moved, Pinkie gave the signal:

-P: OK EVERYONE! START! YOU CAN POP THE BALLOONS!

*POP*pop*Pop* *poP*pop*Pop*

Balloon after balloons popping. This never happened to, this new game was like a torture, why? This was never necessary, why now? Why at HIS party? He remembered his old school, the inferno was here again. It was too much for Snail to take. The people, the sudden noise, the commotion. His heart was almost running away, the pops keep going as some people struggles. Snails starts to hyperventilate, sweaty, and feels dizzy again, but a different type of dizzy.

*S: Snails? Everything fine? Hey are you ok? You are not popping your balloon *Pop* (Snips pop his balloons)

Snails can't do it anymore, his eyes got black, he felt light, he was falling, the last thing he hears it's Pinkie calling his name.

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

When Snails wakes up again, he's sitting in a chair, and Twilight it's checking he's not hurt or anything bad. As she inspects, Snails and Pinkie are by his side, everyone is gone already. "Oh yeah, the party was almost over", it's the thing he first remember.

-Twi: It's ok guys, he's completely fine. I'm pretty sure this was just a panic attack, nothing else, but I will stay a little more just in case. Just talk a little down until he gets better, can you try, Pikie?

-P: Heeeey buddy, it's everything ok? You got me really scared right there...

*S: Snails! You're ok again(!) What was that? Do you feel fine? You scared us everyone there.

-S: Y~yeah, I'm fine, I don't know what happened...

While inspecting the surroundings with the eyes, he notices the green balloon Pinkie gave him in the game, at the table with his gifts, looking a little more and, he noticed there were some balloons attached to his chair. At the mere sight of this, Snails gets another shiver, and gets a gulp of saliva. Even when he tries to fake it, Twilight noticed it.

-Twi: I think I have and theory, but I think it's better that Snails tells you...

As Twilight says that, the three of them look at Snails. We sll think it's time for the revelation, he thinks.

-S: I-I really feel ashamed to say this, and even worse now that I ruined my party...

-P: No no no, don't say that, anything was ruined, the party was ending anyways, but if you feel like theres something to tell us, it's up to you buddy. I just want to evade you from hurting again. But if you don't wanna tell us it's completely fine and valid...

*S: Snails, remember what I told you two weeks ago, I'm your best friend, and I'll do anything for you, you can tell me everything and if you feel like having a secret, it's ok! But remember, me and Pinkie will do anything to make sure you are having a great time... We will listen...

-S: Ok, I guess this is for the best of everyone. Even when it sounds ridiculous, I hope this helps... I'm, kinda, well, mot kinda, very very scared, afraid of .... balloons...

Pinkie and Snips look at each other for a moment, then look at the chair, and the at Twilight, and when the two understand, said "Oooooooh" at unison. After that they let Snails talk again.

-S: It's just, I don't like the noise that they make when they pop, it's loud and unexpected. And I don't like that kind of stuff, makes me feel very nervous. Even when I'm looking at them I'm scared because you never know when a balloon can pop, and, and... Ok I think I talked enough, if you feel like laughing it's ok and I understand it, even I would laugh of myself... I feel so stupid and ashamed for this, I'm sorry I should...

Pinkie gives Snails a second to let his tears flow, she can see how Snails was keeping this up for himself for a long time, he didn't hsve anyone to vent his feelings. Snips gives Snails a paper napkin to clean the tears. When he calms down, the friends talk again.

-P: So, that's it? You are scared of balloons? I know you might find this weird coming from me, but it's completely fine! Your feeling are completely normal little dude! You don't have to be ashamed of everything, it's completely ok to have fears, even when we thought they're ridiculous. You should have told me before! Ooh geez I'm the one that should be apologizing! I'm the one who always plans this parties! I'm so sorry I didn't know! An I didn't take you in count. I'm sorry Snails! Accept my apologies, no more balloons in the parties I know you will be! Oh and I'm sorry for the "special" chair...

-S: You don't have anything to apologize for, Pinkie, you didn't know a I didn't told you, I'm the one who's sorry. And thanks for your statement, it make me feel more comfortable now.

*S: And with me, you think that I would make fun of you because of that? I'm your friend, I'm gonna understand you and be with you at the best and the worst, I'm not making fun of you for anything, it's ok to have fears. To make you feel better, I also have some silly fears, like high places or bears! You see, we can trust each other as always!

-S: Well, I guess we can do it, thanks for sharing that with me.

As they were talking, Twilight step into the conversation.

-Twi: I know it's very soon, but when you feel confident enough, you can let me know so I can put a little bit of my knowledge at work. You can let me know your feelings, and if you feel like it, a step by step exposure therapy. It may not cure you, but I can assure you that you'll not faint in another event. Like a little counselor program.

-S: Yeah, that sounds great, thanks, thanks to everyone for help me out. But, can we keep this a secret for now? I'm still not comfortable with people knowing this..

"Of course, yeah!" The three says.

After that, they help Snails with his gifts and Snips goes with him to assure he gets home safely.

Snails sleeps that night with much less nightmared he usually have this day.

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

3 months later, in one of the celebrations of Canterlot High, theres balloons almost everywhere, classrooms, corridors, cafeteria, etc. And it's almost time for lunch.

*S: Aaand, usually I don't ask this, but, how's everything going with Twilight? It's working?

-S: Yes, I'm feeling a lot better now, and we are making progress and-

*pop* (He hears a balloon popping near, but start shaking again)

*S: It's ok dude, you got this, you got us.

-S: Thanks Snips.

#afraid of balloons #balloons #fear of balloons #globophobia #ligyrophobia #mlp eqg #mlpegfanfic #mlp fanfic #mlp equestria girls #first fanfic #my little pony #equestria girls #MLP snail #mlp snips #snips and snails

[painted-crow]

Did you model Bookkeeper Badger or Courtier Badger most of the time ?

In regards to the past tense you're using--it's the Badger primary model I dropped. Which, I've held on to some of its ideals, but they're just another part of my Bird primary system, and that feels very different.

My Badger secondary model is still good and kicking though!

I was just gonna write about how I use it (and how I try not to use it) to answer this ask, but then it turned into

Secondary Toast Revolving Door, Part 3

(Badger model edition)

and I'm just gonna roll with it.

I did have an unhealthy way I used my Badger secondary model that was... either extreme Bookkeeper, or it's actually been unhealthy Lion secondary all along and I've been mis-Sorting it and this is why the idea of using Lion secondary wigs me out a little. (It's fine when other people use it, but I find the prospect of using it myself at least slightly terrifying.)

Part of my problem is that I'm way too used to situations where pushing through despite feeling like I was about to collapse was the only option. It's probably got to do with... well, some childhood stuff I won't go into too deeply. My mom was in the hospital a lot. The school situation I was in just made everything worse. It's complicated.

Anyway, if I'm under stress, I dissociate out exhaustion, hunger, emotional distress, and even physical pain for hours or days at a time, and I can buckle down and hyperfocus on work (in what would be panic mode if I were more aware of my emotions during these periods). It sounds useful and badass but it really isn't.

Downside #1 is that I will eventually feel the effects of that panic, and any other needs I've been ignoring--it might be at a more convenient time, but those effects definitely won't be lessened.

Downside #2 is traumatic burnout. Do not try this at home. (I always hesitate to use the word "trauma" for my experiences, but the physical reaction I get to writing about some of this stuff says otherwise.)

Downside #3 is that I don't get to choose when my brain does or doesn't do this. It just happens when I'm under stress. I can't count how many times I've had an actual migraine and not noticed why I was so irritable for hours, when I could have taken something.

Downside #4 is that it works. This is possibly the worst one, because the phrase "do your best" takes on a cold sweat-inducing new meaning. My little "ability" has led to some absolutely buckwild performances under deadline, none of which I want to repeat, and I'm not sure I like knowing how much I can get done if I prioritize not failing over not burning out.

(On that note, if you thought my Badger primary model was Exploded last year, you should've seen it 3-4 years ago. I remember when this Kitten Witch post first went up, because I was like "...what? wait--")

In short, this is a very shitty superpower and I would like to re-roll.

I'm undecided whether this is a Badger flavored emergency mode, or the only Lion secondary I can recall using. I lean towards Badger because I have this pathological inability to half-ass anything, and it does not go away during emergencies. But it's possible that it felt Badger flavored because my unhealthy Badger primary model was egging it on with its self deprecating (...self dehumanizing?) exploded Badger crap.

So, wanna know how I got into these nasty deadline crunch situations where emergency hardcore Badger mode became "necessary"?

(I feel like I should reiterate my trigger warning on this series about now: we're talking about gifted kid burnout stuff and I'm about to sarcastically skewer some of my old thought processes here.)

Adequately warned? Great! Here are the step by step instructions to a real shitty time!

Take on a bunch of work while you're feeling okay, based on how much you think everyone else is doing.

Depression gets inevitably triggered somehow, by life stress or overwork or winter or whatever. Burn Bird secondary because that's been a stress response at least since high school.

Have absolutely no clue about the fact that your "limits" vary drastically and your productivity has huge peaks and valleys due to various forms of undiagnosed neurodivergence, which school/college is not designed to accommodate. So, rather than taking a rest and sorting out the stressful thing, get mad at yourself for "being lazy"!

Continue trying to work. Struggle wildly with executive dysfunction. Panic. Get frustrated and angry at yourself. It's cool, I'm sure this will make your Bird secondary start working again soon. (just kidding lol it's making it worse)

When you've aggravated your depression enough, shut down for a few months! Your work will still be there. Piling up. Taunting you. you're falling so far behind what are you doing everyone else can keep up except you

Get sick for a week. Feel relieved that at least now you have a legitimate excuse to not be working. This benefit may feel like it outweighs the symptoms of the flu or sinus infection or whatever you have.

Go into emergency hardcore mode, complete a ridiculous workload in the week before deadline, turn it all in, be almost too exhausted to feel guilty about doing everything last minute.

me: "I don't have ADHD! My focus is usually fine."

also me: this. ^ what is this.

So, I avoid that now. If I notice when Step 3 is happening and I can switch tasks--maybe clean my living space, do some laundry, get some good food, take care of tasks unrelated to whatever project it is that I'm too freaked out to work on--then Bird will be back in a week or two, assuming nothing else huge and stressful happens, and I'll have another productivity peak that'll let me catch up.

This is not the conventional wisdom. Conventional wisdom says you must never break momentum, you must schedule your work out 6 weeks ahead so you always know if you're on track, you must...!

Totally counterproductive for me. My brain is weird and did not come with a manual.

These days, on top of my Bird secondary, I model a mixture of Bookkeeper Badger and mirroring (a Courtier skill), for a number of purposes. I find work satisfying, I'm not afraid of long projects (that I choose), and that shifting, empathetic mirroring response is my default social mode.

But Badger's most important job is to gently take over when Bird is stressed out, and give it space to recover while methodically fixing anything about my situation that's not helping. It's good for that.

I prefer it to the alternative, anyway.

#sortinghatchats #secondary toast revolving door #hufflepuff secondary model #burned ravenclaw secondary #shc models #asks #paint speaks

[maaji-maji-majima]

some kissing hcs for Majima?(if u can make it nsfw)

So I'm in a weird place with this. I don't want to leave you unanswered but I know you won't like the answer that I give. It has been a long time since I was active on tumblr and I'm not sure when along the timeline headcanon became synonymous with fanfiction. I appreciate fanfiction authors for their creativity, but I am not one myself. I use headcanon in the older definition of "this isn't in the source material, but it is true in my brain". They are either random things my half asleep mind thought of while walking home from work or a character analysis. At the same token your ask had crawled into my brainmeats and won't leave. So again, I apologize that this most definitely is not what you're looking for, but I hope someone out there finds this to be an interesting read.

Without further introduction, here is a character analysis of our favorite pansexual, gender fluid, emotionally stunted goblin in regards to relationships and why the he desperately needs therapy as brought to you by a different pansexual, gender fluid, emotionally stunted goblin who got therapy but probably needs more.

Trigger warnings: Abuse, self harm, mental disorders, poor coping strategies, unhealthy relationships, random tense changes, not fanfiction

Spoilers for the whole franchise, but very specifically for 0, K1, and 5.

Abuse does weird things to people's brains. In Yakuza 0 Majima has barely been out of the hole for a year. He might no longer be suffering the actual physical torture he had been subjected to the year prior, but he is still directly in the hands of his abusers and being watched every moment. He is still in a cage even if it doesn't look like one. He is depressed and likely suicidal, but doesn't follow through with those thoughts because he is determined to make sure Saejima has a home to come back to. He is willing to endure just about anything to allow Saejima a chance to exact that final moment of retribution because Saejima is the one who deserves it and Majima doesn't feel that there is any possibility for forgiveness. In all likelihood he hasn't sought out anyone for a hookup or paid company for an evening due to a combination of not feeling like he deserves anything that feels good and the fact that he's constantly being watched. The year in hole means he no longer really has a concept of privacy, but he's worried that getting close to someone, even for a few moments, could put them in danger if Sagawa or Shimano feels like holding something else over his head. It isn't worth accidentally dragging someone into his own personal hell. He no longer lives for the present, he is only living for that far-off future that he hopes isn't just a pipe dream.

Enter Makoto. At first she is a stand-in for Saejima's sister Yasuko, but it morphs rapidly from there. She is the light and kindness and hope that he hasn't seen in years and she's being dragged into his bullshit. He knows in his heart of hearts that she doesn't deserve what she is being forced into, so his mind snaps into the immediate and does everything he possibly can to save her. This is is the hill he wants to die on. Maybe, just maybe, he can end his miserable existence with a final act of good and he feels that Saejima might just be able to understand. But because he no longer has any relationships in his life that are not strictly professional or the abusers he cannot escape, he has little recollection of what a nuanced relationship or even friendship is any longer. Due to circumstance she is also the only person that he cannot keep at arm's length, no matter how desperately he tries. So he falls for her and falls hard. But in the end, after everything they go through he does the impossible. He lets her go. She has a life and a future, whereas he has neither of those. What would she do? Become his ane-san? Have some temporary happiness before she realizes she has a target on her back for the rest of her life? No. Majima believes she deserves so much more than that even though it hurts him deeply. What is one more hurt on top of everything else? He's gotten extremely good at burying his pain.

Getting to Tokyo flips a switch in Majima's brain. Like many people with mental trauma who don't have access to therapy he falls into excess as a way of self medicating. He fits virtually everything on the hedonism checklist. Drinking? Yeah. Violence? Hell yeah! Promiscuity? Yeah, but I ain't judging. Drugs? Probably, even though it isn't explicitly stated in game. Everything from his shift in personality to his wardrobe has become, intentionally or not, a defense mechanism. He has escaped from all of his abusers except for Shimano and he refuses to allow anyone to gain that kind of power over him again.

It is a double edged sword, however. His depression and PTSD are running unchecked. In all likelihood he hasn't fallen hard on vices as a way to reclaim ownership off his own body. Instead it seems more probable that he is dissociating. After everything he has been through he doesn't care what happens to his body in the long run because it isn't actually his anymore. Risky behavior, which is practically Majima's middle name, is also frequently used as a passive form of self harm because the end result is either temporarily feeling better thanks to endorphins and adrenaline or permanently feeling better after embracing death. He could achieve a similar feeling by taking up jogging and chasing a runners high, but that takes more time and energy than chugging a handle of whiskey or goading some chump into throwing hands. Sadly even now admitting to mental problems by seeking help is fairly stigmatized in Japan and it was only worse in the early 90s. Can't have a problem if no one tells you it's there, right?

Then he meets Mirei. She's intense but not wild like Majima. At that moment in time she is everything he needs. Head strong, domineering, and very, very determined. She knows exactly what buttons to press to wrap him right around her finger. And he lets her take the reigns, lets her run his life because he realizes he was doing a terrible job on his own. Better her than Shimano, right? Doing something wrong results in the cold shoulder instead of a vicious beating, and doing something right leads to more than simply the relief of avoiding a beating. He decides that making her happy is enough to make him happy. Until suddenly it isn't. He never wanted to be a father, but even the idea that he could have been was enough to cause a fundamental shift in his entire outlook on life. He could have had someone to live for, instead of just survive for. But he had no say in the matter and didn't know until the decision had been made for him. When Mirei told him she had an abortion he snapped. He hit her. The one and only time he raised his hands against her. Disgusted with himself, and wounded by her decision, he left. If he was capable of that, he knew couldn't be the person she had been trying to mold him into. He realized he was nothing but a weight around her neck dragging her down. And so that day signals the end of their short marriage. He spends the next several decades drowning in guilt for his actions while still resenting her for her choice.

That leaves us with Kiryu. Poor, oblivious Kiryu. Majima's fixation is multifaceted but in no small part due to the fact that Kiryu is one of the few people strong enough to hurt him, but is the only one that doesn't want to. And Majima just doesn't understand. After everything, he only deserves to hurt, right? Saejima, Yasuko, Makoto, Mirei. Everyone who gets too close to him ends up worse for it, so why won't Kiryu and his sense of honor seek justice on their behalf? So he does everything he possibly can to wind up Kiryu enough to Pay Attention Damnit, Fight Me. But Kiryu's response is always just flustered awkwardness because he doesn't want like fighting, it's just a part of his job, like wearing a suit or answering a phone. To Kiryu fighting isn't a thing done because it's enjoyable, it's done because it has to be. But he's still the only one who doesn't flinch when Majima brandishes a knife inches from his face.

And then Kiryu is arrested and in jail for ten years. And ten years is a long time to build someone up onto a pedestal. Like only wanting to talk about the best of a person after they've died. The same thing happened with Saejima. Build them in his mind to what he wants or needs them to be since they are not there to actively correct it. The decade is pretty miserable, going through the motions and trying to not make waves with the bigwigs while terrifying the minions into obedience. When he hears Kiryu is being released it is like waking up again. He all but waits at the taxi stand at the entrance of Kamurocho on the day of Kiryu's release, all but vibrating with excitement. It's a fight he has been waiting on for a decade, too bad it was little more than a disappointment.

So Majima decides to bring him back up to spec in that very Majima flavored way. Small fights, big fights, surprise fights. Kiryu is still reluctant because he doesn't have a reason beyond Majima's dreamed up training program he doesn't actually want to be a part of. Of course this only leads Majima to do everything possible to get under Kiryu's skin, including sharing his personal vulnerabilities while disguising them as jokes just to cause fights, but Kiryu just kind of rolls with it which leads to confusion and frustration on both sides. After a while Majima starts to get into Kiryu's hobbies, like pocket circuit, ostensibly as another form of picking a fight. And he discovers he actually enjoys a lot of it. And they are both too dense and emotionally stunted to realize they're basically dating at this point. At multiple points Majima takes potentially lethal blows meant for Kiryu and the excuse that he is the only one allowed to kill Kiryu is very, very thin. He just can't quite admit out loud that he doesn't want to see Kiryu truly hurt because that's weakness and he is Not Weak (tm).

Shimano's death and Kiryu's departure from the clan come as a whirlwind that destroys him all over again. He's left directionless. So he leaves the Tojo in an attempt to find his own way in the world, for the first time in over twenty years.

I think I need to call it here for now. I know I've left out Saejima and Daigo, among others, but I've been working on this for days and my progress has been eaten twice and I just don't have the energy to keep going right at this time. Maybe some day in the future I'll find the time and energy to write out the rest for all the other games.

tl;dr What Majima wants and what he needs are two different things. He wants to fightfuck, but he needs to be bear hugged into submission so that he can have that mental breakdown he's been carefully bottling up for over thirty years. He needs a good, ugly cry. And therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.

#ask #character analysis #not fanfiction #yakuza games #yakuza headcanons #majima character analysis #rgg #rgg games #majima #majima goro #broken people doing broken things

[echo-bleu]

let them turn into a river

I've said I wouldn't write any more codas. Yet here I am. This works through some of my thoughts about Alex this season, which may not be everyone's cup of tea.

This also fills two prompts I got: "being given an unexpected hug, and stiffening, then melting into it" by @daffietjuh and "Alex has a breakdown over something mundane like what type of tuna to buy" (I think the original prompt was by @meneatyoghurt, and @rensbaratheon gave it to me).

[PTSD flashbacks, panic attack, mentions of abuse, discussion of possible dub-con (2x06)]

I'm fine. I'm completely fine, Alex repeats to himself as he wanders down the supermarket aisle in search of pasta.

It's not untrue, not exactly. He's certainly functioning a lot better than he was when he first got back from overseas, and his leg is doing rather well these days, even if it's now twinging in pain from the long day he's had. It's just that...he's had nothing but long, exhausting days in what feels like months. It's just that he's really, really tired.

And now he's in the store on a Saturday evening at eleven pm because the really, really nice guy he was hoping to try dating isn't willing to put up with his baggage. Alex can't blame Forrest. He wouldn't put up with it if he had a choice. He spent hours just staring at the bottom of his glass after Forrest left, until Maria slammed a bottle in front of him to get his attention and invited herself to lunch tomorrow.

“It's been a while since we really talked, Alex. I almost feel like you're the one avoiding me now.” The little progress Alex has made−according to his therapist, anyway−on setting his boundaries and asserting what he wants must have evaporated sometime during that night, because he didn't manage to say no.

Which means he needs to figure out what to cook. It's going to have to be meatball pasta, Alex decides. It's the only thing he can think of right now that's suitable for a guest but doesn't require a lot of preparation, and he has no wish to spend hours in the kitchen. He grabs his usual brand of pasta, grateful that he knows where it is by heart, and moves down the aisle to the sauce area.

The whole section of tomato sauce cans stares back at him.

Alex takes a step back to encompass the whole thing with his gaze, curses as the move twists his prosthesis enough for a sharp spike of pain to travel up his leg, and closes his eyes to center himself. Breathe. Everything's fine.

There are cans and boxes and bottles. Tomato sauce and pulp and juice. Several brands of each, with added flavoring and different sizes. How can there be dozens of different options? Alex is just looking for something to put in meatball pasta, it shouldn't be complicated.

He peers at the labels again, trying to wake up his brain enough to decide. But there's prices to think of, and ecology−what's better again, metal cans or cartons?−and so many different types and some of them are written in fucking Italian and he cannot choose. He stays frozen, two feet away from the shelves, vaguely rocking on his heels.

He can't breathe.

He can't breathe and he can't read the labels anymore because everything is suddenly out of focus. Fuck. He blinks, and inspires−and chokes, and wheezes, and shit, this shouldn't be so hard, why is he having a fucking panic attack in the middle of the deserted supermarket at 11 pm?

But he is, and thinking about how this should be simple, and why is he such a failure, is definitely not helping. He reaches out, tries to grab a can at random, and only succeeds in miscalculating and knocking several cans off the shelf. The noise they make hitting the floor is deafening.

Alex flinches, hard, and falls backward when it triggers another spike of pain up his leg and back. He hits the shelves at his back, probably knocking more things over−but he doesn't hear them fall over the buzzing in his ears. He feels the pain, though. The pain and the lack of air and the blackening at the edge of his vision.

Breathe.

He closes his eyes tight, letting himself fall on his ass on the floor and curl up. With his left knee under his chin, his right leg extended, he digs his nails into his palms. I can't do this. I can't.

He can't have Maria over, and pretend everything is fine. He can't talk to her about her relationship with Michael and about his own failed date. He can't look at her and forget about her kissing him, about the mess of limbs and emotions that followed, about how he can't feel anything but disgust toward himself ever since.

He can't.

Today has been a roller-coaster already. The elation he felt at the paintball park is long forgotten, replaced by wave upon wave of shame. At everything, at the mirror of himself he glimpsed in his father's eyes, at the way he froze with Maria, at the uncontrollably fear that gripped his gut when Forrest leaned in for a kiss, when he'd thought−he doesn't know what he'd thought. Only that in that moment, he felt a hand around his neck clearer than he has in months.

He feels it still, as he gasps for air. He spent every second in the hospital, from the moment his father first lost his temper, waiting for the hand to close around him. And yet he couldn't stop himself from catching his dad when he stumbled, even as he expected him to lash out. Why can't he even fucking put a stop to that? Let go of this monster for good, cut him out of his life?

Because he's a coward, that's why. He presses his back into the shelves until it hurts so much he gasps out. Pain. Focus. Breathe.

He's a fucking coward, so of course he's not good enough for someone like Forrest. Just like he'll never be good enough for Michael.

Michael. His mouth on him, again, after months of fantasizing about that. His warmth, his unique scent, his breathing−but they're not alone, and it's too much, too fucking much, that's not what he wants. Alex's skin crawls like that day, and he scrapes his nails at his palms, like he wants to rip it off.

No, no. No. He can't think about that again. He's in the middle of a fucking supermarket, for God's sake! He can't go down that hole.

Get a fucking grip.

Tomato sauce. That's what he needs. Nothing else. He can put everything aside, like how he's going to have to spend hours alone with Maria in his house tomorrow. After being touched by her that way. After watching her touch Michael that way.

He can't even get a handle on his thoughts long enough to remember the tricks his therapist gave him to get out of a panic attack. Counting. Right. One. Two.

No. Counting backward, or in threes, or the brain just takes over. But where to start? Twenty? Is that enough? A hundred? This is too much. How do you count in threes anyway?

Fuck.

Vaguely, he realizes the hand tightening on his throat is his own, his body desperately clawing at itself to breathe. Did his father mix his meds on purpose today? He wouldn't put it past him. But what would his purpose be?

Alex hates it. Being put in this position, the only son in town who is supposed to care for his ailing father. He avoids his childhood home as much as he can, but he's still the contact listed for him at the hospital. He hates watching Jesse Manes struggle to move around and feeling empathy he doesn't want, how somehow this is one more thing that brings them closer instead of separating them. Dammit. His dad in this position because he tried to kill Kyle, after torturing aliens−people−for decades. Alex shouldn't be feeling empathy for this man. He should have watched him fall on his face today, and not even moved a muscle.

Like his father watched him fall too many times after his injury.

Manes men don't show weakness.

Why couldn't he? Why is he such a coward that he can't separate the need to keep his father close, to monitor his actions and find out more about Project Shepard, from his own feelings?

Why can't he let the shadow of his father's abuse behind?

Making out with a hot guy in public is only made hotter when it pisses off all the bigots and the homophobes.

Alex wants to retch in shame.

“Alex!”

Alex can't tell where the voice comes from, but he feels someone coming close and that's what pulls him out of his panic. Reality brutally refocuses. He goes right from foggy, breathless dissociation to cold hypervigilance. He stills, releasing his left leg to be able to use it to swipe at someone's legs, and looks up very slowly.

It's Kyle, crouching down in front of him, frowning in worry. He may have called his name several times already, Alex doesn't know. He's surrounded by fallen cans of tomato, and one of them has burst and send red sauce flying everywhere.

Alex flinches away when Kyle tries to touch him. Breathing burns his lungs, but he forces the air in. Pain doesn't matter. Pain is good, right now, making him focus.

“Alex, what happened?” Kyle asks, like he's speaking to a small child. Or maybe Alex is imagining that. Everything is slow, unreal, his body unfeeling except for the pain.

He tries to make his mouth move to answer, but he can't. He shakes his head in frustration.

“Okay, okay, I won't touch you, alright? It's okay, there's no threat here. Do you know where you are?”

Alex nods, and dips his head, avoiding Kyle's eyes. Coming back to reality just means more shame. He's sitting in the middle of a supermarket, pants stained with tomato, panting and−for God's sake−crying. He's ridiculous.

“Good, you're with me,” Kyle continues. “Was it only a panic attack, or is there something medically wrong with you?”

Alex just stares at him, uncomprehending. He can't put the words together enough to make them make sense.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Kyle reformulates.

Alex shakes his head, and wills his hands to stop trembling.

Without taking his eyes off him for more than a second at a time, Kyle starts to pick up the intact cans of tomato off the floor. Giving him space, Alex understands. When he crouches down again, Alex feels stronger, more anchored, even if his whole body feels like cotton candy.

“Think you can get up now?” Kyle asks.

“Yeah,” Alex rasps out. He holds out a hand, though, rather than try to stand up by himself in the mess of tomato sauce. He wouldn't trust his leg with that on a good day.

Kyle scouts over, puts Alex's arm around his shoulders, and hoists him up.

“What about−” Alex gestures to the mess, and his own dropped groceries.

“I'll tell a clerk, it's okay. Let's just get you home, alright?”

“'Kay,” Alex murmurs. He doesn't have the brain space to think about it beyond his embarrassment, anyway.

Kyle lets him lean on him all the way to the checkout counter, and quietly explains what happened to the wide-eyed girl sitting behind it. Alex doesn't listen to her answer, his focus still shot. He stares vaguely at a the packs of gum behind her instead.

“Let's go,” Kyle prompts him to move again.

Alex wants to make it out under his own power, or some variation thereof. He takes his arm back, but he stumbles at the first step, and he has to catch himself roughly on the counter. Rather than make a big deal about it, Kyle simply hooks his arm into his, providing discrete support.

Sometimes Alex wants to hate him for how considerate he is. Right now he doesn't even have it in him to be anything but thankful, though.

The store is just two blocks from Alex's house, so he came here on foot, but there's no way he's making it back. His leg aches something fierce, and his steps are uneven, awkward.

Kyle guides him to his car in the parking lot without a comment, and takes the time to make sure Alex is comfortable in the passenger seat before he drives the thirty seconds to his home. There seems to be no end to Alex's shame tonight, and yet Kyle somehow manages to make it as painless as the situation can be−physically and emotionally. He gets Alex into the most comfortable armchair in his living room, pants and prosthesis off, with minimum fuss and as much privacy as possible.

“Thank you,” Alex murmurs when Kyle finally sits down on the couch across from him.

“I can go, if you tell me you're going to be okay,” Kyle says. “But I can also stay.”

Alex bites his lip. No, he doesn't really want to be left alone with his thoughts. “Not the night,” he says. “But maybe for a minute?” He doesn't like how whiny his voice sounds, but he's exhausted. He curls up in the armchair, propping his right leg on the arm rest and tucking his left foot under him.

“Okay,” Kyle nods, though it's almost midnight. Alex feels bad for asking that of him, but he did offer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There isn't much to talk about,” Alex shrugs. “I'm sorry. I was just...tired.”

Kyle raises his eyebrows. “You're allowed not to talk about it, but please don't downplay it, Alex. This wasn't you being tired.”

“No, you're right. This was me freaking out over what tomato sauce to buy. But mostly, it's been a long day. Long week. Long...everything.”

“Your work?” Kyle asks.

“Not really. Not mostly. I've been, uh, taking on side projects, researching Project Shepard and Caulfield, helping you guys. And...my superiors were on base yesterday. My boss. And my boss's boss. And for about half-an-hour, I thought they were here to arrest me.”

“What?”

“It turns out that it was unrelated, but people are asking questions. Not my team, but I'm just a Captain, I still have to answer to people. And recently, I've had to cover up a shit-ton of things. Things that I could be court-martialed for and spend my life in prison several times over. You know this, you did the same.”

“Well, I'm risking my medical license for sure, maybe being sued by the hospital, but probably not jail,” Kyle says. “I didn't...honestly, I don't think any of us realized what you did for us.”

“For them,” Alex corrects him. “You're an outsider to them as much as I am. Tied up by shitty legacies and unwanted feelings for people who don't want us back.”

“You're right,” Kyle sighs. “I told Liz, before the surgery, I told Liz once that was over, I was done. But we all know it's not true.”

Alex gives him a commiserating smile. “In any case, Michael, Max and Isobel risk much worse just by being alive. I'm okay with doing my part. I have to admit that I started seriously questioning that when I learned that Liz decided to go ahead with the heart transplant when she thought you wouldn't be able to keep Max alive, because I had to pull in a lot of favors to get you that theater. That's when people started asking questions.”

“Wait, she didn't tell you beforehand? I thought she told you, or I would have.”

“I don't know if you've noticed, but Liz tends to get tunnel vision,” Alex shrugs. “Rosa told me.”

“Not Michael?”

“Nah, he was wrapped up in his family. We didn't talk.”

“What's going on with you two, anyway?” Kyle asks. “At Caulfield, you were basically flirting the whole way there, and now he's with Maria?”

Alex swallows. “Our...timelines didn't align,” he says. “My family destroyed his. I can't blame him for keeping me at arm's length.”

“That's bullshit, Alex. You're not your family.”

“And yet I brought so much pain into his life,” he sighs.

“So you're just giving up?”

“He's made it clear over and over that I'm not the one he wants. So yeah, I'm giving up.”

Kyle tilts his head. “There's something you're not telling me.”

Fuck. Either Kyle has become even more observant than he was or Alex is still so rattled that he's letting things through. Probably the second option.

Alex ponders it for a moment. He hasn't talked to anyone about that night. He hasn't seen his therapist in months, not since the nightmares and flashbacks Caulfield brought back up abated, and he doesn't exactly have a host of other friends to discuss things with. It's been a weight on his shoulders that doesn't live, that permeates everything. But then...this is Kyle. Is he really someone Alex want to talk about this with?

Actually, yes, he decides. Kyle has something of a unique perspective.

“We had a threesome,” he mutters. It's even more awkward coming out of his mouth than it is when he thinks the word.

“I'm sorry, what did you just say?” Kyle has his mouth hanging open. He's heard perfectly well.

“Michael, Maria and me,” Alex says. “After, uh, Maria and I went to see this boot maker, and he attacked us, stabbed me and went after Maria. She knocked him out and he's in custody,” Alex add hurriedly when he sees Kyle's expression become murderous.

“He stabbed you,” Kyle states.

“Just a little,” Alex shrugs. It's healed just fine, it will probably barely scar. “I'm fine.”

“You got stabbed, and instead of, I don't know, calling me, you had sex with your ex and your best friend. Your female best friend.”

“She initiated it, it's not like we came onto her or anything,” Alex raises his hands.

Kyle blinks. “Yeah, that's not what I'm worried about, Alex.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

Kyle works his jaw several times, trying to find his words. “Let's put it like this. Why are you telling me about it?”

“I...don't know,” Alex shrugs. It weights on his mind, and it needs to get out.

“How did it feel?”

Alex swallows. “Not great. I didn't...I didn't enjoy it. I thought−” he trails off.

“What did you think?” Kyle prompts him.

“We were coming off an adrenaline rush, and being with other people, with them, it felt...safe. I didn't want to leave. When Maria started to−I thought I wanted Michael enough that it would be okay, that I could handle it.”

“'Handle it',” Kyle repeats. “Alex, are you even hearing yourself right now? What would you say if one of your partners said they could 'handle' sex with you?”

“I'd back off right away,” Alex sighs. “But it wasn't like that, we were all consenting.”

“You'd just been attacked. You were injured. I'm assuming you'd been on your leg for a long time. Am I getting the right picture here?”

Alex shrugs. He can't deny it, but it doesn't feel right. Maria and Michael didn't make him have sex with them, he did it of his own free will. Sure, he should have left, but he hasn't been known for making the best decisions for himself, right?

His hands are shaking again.

“I could have left,” he says, his voice trembling. “I didn't want to, but I should have.”

“Okay,” Kyle says, physically backing off. “Don't spiral out again, it's okay.”

“I tried to go on a date, today,” Alex says after a few deep breaths.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. The guy is great. I just...he tried to kiss me, and I couldn't.”

Kyle frowns. “Why−oh, in public?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he know about your father?”

“No,” Alex shrugs. “Does it matter? We all have our bad coming out stories.”

“Your father is a little more than that, Alex,” Kyle raises an eyebrow, like Alex doesn't know that.

“It doesn't change anything. He's not ready to date someone who's not out and proud.”

“Except you are, Alex. You are out and proud. And honestly, with what you've been through, it's amazing how open you are. So maybe you don't wear glitter or dye your hair blue−”

Alex snickers.

“What?”

“Forrest has blue hair,” he says.

“The guy?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, my point stands. You're not in the closet, you just have baggage. Heavy baggage, maybe, but it's not the same.”

Alex tilts his head. Kyle is not wrong, even if he hadn't thought of it that way.

“You think I'd look good in glitter?” he asks, because he needs to stop getting in too deep with his emotions.

“Alex, you'd look good in sack. Glitter, rainbows, crazy hair colors? You'd definitely pull them off. Green would look good on you. Or purple.”

“I think I'll stick to black, thank you,” Alex laughs. “But maybe I'll think of getting my ears pierced again. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You suddenly seem to be awfully interested in queer fashion.”

Kyle actually blushes. “Um, I...I might have taken to hanging out at Planet 7,” he mumbles.

“You?” Alex asks in shock.

“I wanted to get away from Liz. And anything alien. Actually aliens, I mean. Not that it worked.”

Alex frowns. “Michael was there?”

“No,” Kyle shakes his head. “Not him. Fuck, I shouldn't have told you that.”

It takes Alex a few moments to catch up. “It can't be Max, so...Isobel? Really?”

“I didn't mean to...out her or anything.”

“It's okay, I'm not going to go shout it from the rooftops,” Alex says, because Kyle really looks worried. “Though you should definitely be careful who you tell.”

“I will.”

“What about you?” Alex asks.

“What?”

“Are you trying to tell me you're not as straight as you thought?”

Kyle hides his face in his hands. “I don't know, maybe? I don't...I'm really not sure. I never thought about men that way, but when I see the couples there, or the people who hook up...I don't know.”

“It's okay,” Alex smiles. “It's okay not to know. You don't need to have a word that fits right away.”

“Thanks,” Kyle nods.

“Anytime.”

“I was so horrible to you in high school, this would be a perfect opportunity for payback. Just goes to show what a good man you are.”

All the levity that this conversation has brought Alex goes right down the gutter, leaving him ice cold. “I'm not a good man,” he says through gritted teeth.

“You are. You're a good friend, Alex. A good person. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Alex sighs and lets it go. It's not a conversation for one in the morning. “You should go home,” he says.

“Are you sure you'll be okay?”

Alex stands up slowly, wishing he had his second crutch for the trip over to his bedroom. “Look, I'll call my therapist, okay? I promise.”

“You do that,” Kyle says, standing up as well. Then, before Alex can completely process it, he opens his arms and closes them around him, careful not to make him lose his balance. Alex stiffens, unused to the contact, but it feels good. Safe. He relaxes slowly, bit by bit, and awkwardly pats Kyle's back with his free hand. “We'll grab a beer sometime this week, okay?”

“Sure,” Alex nods in Kyle's shoulder. “Would be nice.”

“I'll text you tomorrow.”

Kyle lets him go and fishes out his keys from his pocket, turning to leave.

“Hey, Kyle?” Alex calls after him quietly.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for tonight.”

“You're very welcome,” Kyle smiles sweetly.

*

Despite his exhaustion, Alex doesn't fall asleep for hours, and when it does, it's to restless slumber, full of vague nightmares. He drags himself out of bed at nine, two hours past his usual wake-up time, and spends the morning trying to force his aching body into submission with a mix of PT exercises and yoga, that turns too easily into a punishment. A hundred push-ups, for being so weak. The voice in his head is his father's.

As he stares at his counter come eleven, an hour before Maria is supposed to be there, he remembers something. He still doesn't have tomato sauce. Or pasta, for that matter, since he never got to pay for his groceries last night.

“Fuck this,” he murmurs to himself, almost smirking at the joke that is his life. There is nothing he wants less than to spend the day with Maria. He doesn't have anything to cook her, and the Crashdown is closed on Sundays.

No. He's not going to do this.

He eyes his phone, thinking of coming up with some bullshit excuse to Maria. He can think of a dozen that would work well enough off the top of his head, though she's sure to give him hell for it later. At the thought of even seeing her later, Alex grimaces.

No. He sticks his phone in his back pocket and grabs his wallet, his keys and his crutch.

Right before he leaves, on a whim, he grabs a pen and a pad of sticky notes and writes SORRY. HAD SOMETHING TO DO. in capital letters. He sticks the note on his front door and sets the alarm.

Maybe this is his breaking point.

*

Forrest looks truly surprised when Alex shows up on his doorstep. He had to look up the actual address, since Forrest doesn't actually live in the barn where they met, and the Longs have several properties in the same area. He wouldn't want to knock on an random door and run into Wyatt.

“Hi,” Alex says.

“Is that voice in your head already gone?” Forrest asks.

“Not exactly. I just...thought you should hold all the cards.”

Forrest stares at him for a moment, thinking. “Alright,” he says. “Come in, then.”

The house is really more of a cabin, small and wooden all around. The inside is very different from Jim Valenti's cabin, though, and it screams Forrest. It seems this man really is what he shows to the outside, an open book.

The opposite of Alex, in a way.

“Sit down,” Forrest says. “I was just making coffee, you want some?”

“Sure. Black, please.”

Alex sits down on a comfortable couch covered with a patterned comforter while Forrest pours them both mugs in the tiny kitchen area.

“So, what did you want to say?”

Alex takes a deep inspiration. Despite his coming here being a heat of the moment thing, he's tried to practice his words in his car. He's not good with words, but it all comes down to what Kyle said last night.

“You asked me about my PTSD triggers, yesterday,” he says.

“Yes,” Forrest agrees carefully.

“You know, the funny thing is that no one's ever asked me that before. Beside my therapist, I mean. Most of my friends don't know I have PTSD, and the one who does usually doesn't need to ask.”

“Alien guy?” Forrest asks curiously.

“No. My relationship with Michael is more complicated. He has his own issues.”

“Okay. So you want to tell me about your triggers?”

“How they relate to what we talked about,” Alex says. “Being closeted. It's not that I don't want to come out. Sure, I wasn't out in the Air Force during DADT and that was hell, but here...I haven't been in the closet in this town since early high school. Everyone who knows me here knows I'm gay, and I'm fine with that.”

“Then what is it?” Forrest asks.

Alex bites his lip, then takes the plunge. “The last time I really pissed off a homophobe, it didn't end well for the guy I was with.”

“What do you mean? Did you get assaulted?”

“Yeah, you could say that. He went at my...boyfriend's hand with a hammer.”

Forrest covers his mouth with his hand in shock.

“I was seventeen,” Alex continues. “It was my father.”

“Fuck, Alex, I−”

Alex waves it off. “Don't apologize. I just...I wanted you to know. I'm not in the closet. But ever since that day, I haven't been able to be with someone and feel completely safe.”

“Of course,” Forrest murmurs. “Was your father generally abusive? Or did he snap?”

“He didn't start hitting me until he figured out I was gay, but he basically raised us−me and my brothers−as if we were in basic training,” Alex says. “After the...accident, he made me enlist, and I didn't come back to Roswell until a few months ago.”

“That's, wow, that's a lot. I thought my family was bad.”

“There's no comparison to make,” Alex shrugs. “You're brave enough to be proud of who you are in spite of them. I...I'm trying to get there. But it's hard.”

“I get that,” Forrest nods. “I understand it better now. Something didn't quite make sense about you.”

Alex thinks of Michael, of aliens and the secret lab and his classified work. He thinks of his father in the hospital, and being unable to just let him fall. He thinks of last night in the supermarket. “I don't make a lot of sense,” he says. “Which is why I completely get that you don't want to try something with me. I just wanted you to know.”

Forrest pauses and looks him up and down. “You know, maybe...I've put my standards very high, because I've been burned too many times, but so far you met everyone of them easily, except for this one. Maybe it's unrealistic. Maybe I shouldn't let you go, just because you're not quite ready to kiss me in public.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I like you Alex. I really like you, and I'm guessing the fact that you came all the way out here means you feel the same. So maybe those standards were just me closing myself off from opportunities. Maybe I should give this a chance.”

Alex smiles.

#roswell new mexico #alex manes #kyle valenti #forest long #forlex #2x08 coda #anti malexa #trying to tag appropriately #tell me if i miss something #rnm s2 #rnm fanfiction #mine #echo's fanfiction

[edoro]

discoursed-dracula 2h I see a modern AU fic idea 👀

(in response to this post)

oh yeah! i have a specific modern au framework i like to slot my various Wittebanes into that i already recently retooled for the version of Caleb who lived in my head before i realized the unarguable truth of The Best Possible Version Of Caleb here

i think i’ve posted about it before but i’m not going to go looking for the post right now; the gist is that everyone is humans in the modern day, Philip Wittebane runs the Gravesfield historical society museum out of the historical Wittebane family home Mystery Shack style, and Luz ends up getting a questionably legal summer job/volunteer position (?) there to convince her mom how Normal And Responsible she can be instead of getting sent to reality camp

it focuses mostly on Luz and Hunter (it’s a Lunter au about the two of them having a cute teen summer romance) and gets a lot into how isolated they both are, and specifically is an attempt on my part to look at what a... more functional (?) familial relationship between Hunter and his uncle might look like

which mostly means “Philip is not intentionally physically, emotionally, or sexually abusive towards Hunter as i typically write him being”

i say ‘intentionally’ because another big aspect of the au is that instead of having some kind of weird curse due to centuries of huffing souls, Philip is terminally ill 

(this is me getting to project my ‘dying parent’ trauma all over Hunter bc i don’t see that angle in fandom stuff nearly as often as i’d like) and as his health declines, Hunter takes on more and more of the responsibility for his medical care as well as keeping up the house and business etc

so he’s heavily parentified and experiencing, honestly, a very similar level of emotional incest as in canon - my original idea for the au had Philip as a single guardian who inherited Hunter as his last known living relative after some mysterious accident befell Hunter’s mother’s family, who he lived with up until then, so they’re both just very dependent on each other

NOW THOUGH, WE HAVE CALEB

so i think she and Philip live together and have kind of a weird codependent vibe but it’s significantly less toxic and involves way less murder than usual. in the ideal version of things then maybe Hunter’s other parent would even still be around and living with them, actually, and Philip manages to not be such a jealous possessive freak about it

but i tend to imagine a bit more tragic of an outcome - probably some kind of accident, who knows

or maybe Hunter was the result of a less serious relationship and Caleb’s partner ended up handing the kid over to her and her brother to raise because they’re much more financially suited for it and she didn’t want to commit that deeply... unsure!

(my original version of Caleb was a man who, due to Intense Childhood Trauma, suffered from a pretty debilitating dissociative disorder, and was therefore perfectly pleasant and helpful around the house in many ways and with Philip’s medical care as he got sicker, but also a complete emotional non-presence in Hunter’s life

which led to Hunter being responsible for caretaking both his dying uncle and his mentally checked out father, who he mostly felt a sense of vague contempt towards as he got old enough to realize something was very weird there, but didn’t really ever get to understand why 

(it’s a lot easier for him to get why Philip needs help; original flavor Caleb’s problems made him come off as just sort of lazy and like he didn’t care))

anyway though that’s a different Caleb. farmbutch mom Caleb, i’m really not sure what kind of relationship Hunter has with her yet! 

she’s very earnest and loyal and dutiful. she’s used to just putting her head down and shouldering most of the household maintenance quietly and not asking for much in return. used to making herself small and, tbh, similarly dissociating her way through life because she’s so used to being abused all the time that she learned to just emotionally detach from, well, everything

and to just sort of assume that people won’t want her around and will get tired of her, and so kind of preemptively shrink her presence in their lives so it’s as easy as possible for them

she loves Hunter very much though and wants to care for him... 

this is definitely a Hunter who grows up knowing he’s wanted and loved and who never has cause to doubt that his family will take care of him. (he ends up more with the idea that you’re Supposed To Do Anything And Everything For Your Family, really, than the idea that he has to Earn His Place)

and with Caleb around, she definitely takes on a lot more of Philip’s care, so Hunter has to deal with a lot less of that than in the versions of it where it’s just him and Philip

anyway it’s very early and i am very tired and rambling a lot here, i have not solidified most of my ideas about this Caleb’s inclusion into this au yet, but that’s the basic idea

#redneck wizardcore au #that's the tag for it actually so the other post should be in there #the owl house