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#like don’t get me wrong i’ve written stuff all my life
foolishlovers · 4 months
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going back home today!! which means!! finally starting my next good omens wip!!
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shibaraki · 1 year
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gahhhhh as much as I love my writing I feel like I am getting a little repetitive. so I may take a few days off just to catch up on reading and stuff
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writemekpop · 8 months
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Imperfect | Lee Jeno
Summary: You and Jeno make a list of everything you don’t like about each other. 
Genre: Established relationship AU, angst
Word count: 1k
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“You don’t believe in soulmates?” Jeno says, as you lie with your head on his chest. His fingers freeze in your hair, showing his shock. 
“I mean, you’re not gonna like everything about your partner,” you say.
“You don’t like – things about me?” Jeno says. “Like what?” 
Your breath falls short. 
“Not big things!” you say, struggling to dig yourself out of this hole. “Your aftershave! It’s a little… intense.” You suppress a grin. “Like I’m drowning.”
Jeno flops back onto the pillow. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 
“You’ve gotta have things you don’t like about me too!” you insist.
“I can’t think of any,” Jeno groans. “I’m too busy trying to smell myself!” 
You hug Jeno tightly, savouring the feeling of his tight muscles beneath your hands. 
“Let’s just make a list, okay? Whenever something bothers us, we’ll write it down, then at the end of the week, we’ll share. No fights.” 
Jeno smiles. “Good idea.”
-- One week later --
Jeno tries to snatch the piece of paper from you. “Just show me! It’s been ages...”
You wrestle the paper out of his hands. Your heart is racing. “One sec! Just making some – last minute – edits.”
You are desperately scratching half of your list out with a pencil – because you realised that Jeno’s list was just a tiny post-it note, whereas you had a full sheet. 
Jeno snatches the paper from your fingers. “A-ha!” Jeno says. 
He clears his throat dramatically. “Mis-matching socks. Too afraid to talk to the people at the store.” He sits down on the bed, a frown growing on his face. “Kind of ugly… laugh.” The paper starts to shake in his hands. “Sort of – a – crybaby.”
Jeno tries to fling the paper on the floor, but it just wafts slowly down. His chest is rising and falling fast. He scrubs his eyes furiously. 
“Hey! Don’t be mad!” you say, sitting next to him. “You wrote a list about me too. Oh, Jeno, please don’t be upset.”
Jeno glares at you, his eyes red. “I’m not upset. Because that would make me a huge crybaby, and you hate that.”
He storms out of the room. 
You scramble to the floor and pick up Jeno’s list, on its yellow Post-it. You read what is written on it. 
You sink slowly to the floor. You feel like a horrible person. You wish you had never been born. You finally found a good guy, and you stamped on his heart like it was nothing. 
List of things wrong with Y/n:
Nothing 
You’re perfect 
---
You are crouched outside the bathroom door. Jeno has been in there for an hour. 
“Jeno, honey, please talk to me,” you say. 
“Get out!” Jeno yells. 
“You didn’t read the end of the list!” you say. “It says – none of this matters, because you’re the kindest, most passionate, most caring man I’ve ever met.”
You hear the lock clicking, and jump to your feet. 
Jeno opens the door, just a crack. “You don’t get it, do you?” His stare is ice-cold. “All my life, I was told that I wasn’t tough enough, brave enough, man enough. Until I met you, and you told me I was enough.” He shakes his head. “But you were lying.”  
He closes the door in your face. Through the door, you hear him say, “You know what hurts? The fact that I truly thought you were perfect. I was wrong. You’re mean, Y/n.”  
---
For the next two weeks, you spend every day reminding Jeno all the reasons that you love him - but he still gives you the silent treatment. 
One day, when you and Jeno are eating dinner in silence, Jeno slapped a piece of paper onto the table.
“What is that?” you say. 
“It’s my list.” Jeno says. “For you.” He picks it up and reads aloud. “Wears too much makeup. Judgemental. Mean. Can never take responsibility in arguments…”
Each word feels like a slap in the face. You thought that Jeno was too sweet to notice any of that stuff, but you were wrong. 
You clasp his hand, as tears start to fall. “I’m sorry, Jeno. I’m gonna treat you better, I promise.”
Jeno frowns. “Wait. You’re not… mad?”
You shake your head. 
Jeno’s eyebrows rise. “You’re not gonna deny it? Or fight back?”
You shake your head. “No. These past few weeks, I’ve realised that I – I don’t like looking at who I really am. Because who I am is… ugly. But I’m gonna change.”
Jeno clasps both your hands in his. “Oh, Y/n.” 
He comes round the table and pulls you into a tight, warm hug. You have been craving his touch for so long that that hug restores you to life. 
“I love you, you stupid idiot,” Jeno says. 
“I love you, too,” you squeak.
“Now who’s the crybaby?” Jeno says, chuckling. 
You laugh through your tears. “Shut up.” 
Jeno’s smile is warm, all signs of anger completely gone. But you have a niggling feeling you can't quite shake. 
“Do you really think I wear too much make up?” you ask, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. 
Jeno scratches his head. “Maybe… I dunno, I think I was just lashing out.” 
You stay silent. 
“Y/n, I think you’re gorgeous, inside and out. Smoking hot. Ten out of ten. Definitely would bang.” 
You snort. 
Jeno smiles, eyes crinkling. “I’m sorry, baby. I hate it when we fight.” 
You bury your head in Jeno’s neck, touching your lips against his soft skin. You can feel his soft sighs against your ear. Heaven. 
MAIN MASTERLIST
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starsandhughes · 8 months
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Didn't Know What Love Was— Quinn Hughes
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summary: you were somewhat of a cynic when it came to love. you didn't believe in it, and if it was real, you didn't want it. that is, until your best friend sets you up with a certain hockey player named quinn.
warnings: swearing, fade to black smut (like extremely fade to black), fluff
word count: 3.9k+
MASTERLIST
this is inspired by the song 'didn't know what love was' by kane brown!
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You weren’t expecting to feel this way. 
You didn’t think this feeling was real. 
Love.
You’ve said it, you’ve been told it, but all of those instances weren’t real to you. You get to a certain point in a relationship and someone says it first and you think, yeah, I guess that’s what this is. It was nothing like how it was portrayed in the movies, because they were just movies. Movies are fake, so you thought love was, too. It always ended. It always included drama. And then you’d find someone new.
You’ve never been more wrong. 
February 20, 2021
“Mack, have you ever thought of the fact that I’m just not meant for a relationship? It’s all bullshit anyways,” you grumbled. You were laying on your back horizontally on bed with your feet hanging off the edge, settled on the floor. Your best friend, Mackenzie, was once again setting you up on a date. “You’re single now! Find yourself a date!” 
Mackenzie rolled her eyes and sat next to you, “I’m not ready to get back out there! It’s only been two weeks since Jason and I broke up and we dated for seven months. You, however, have been single for almost a year!” 
“You’re only proving my point, Mack!” you said, sitting up. “Relationships end. They’re messy and leave us heartbroken. And maybe the magic blinds you for a while and you get married, but I’ve met more people with divorced parents than married ones. And I’ve seen so many loveless marriages that the couple only sticks together because they wouldn’t know what else to do. I’ve seen couples break up in restaurants. I’ve seen couples fight and scream at a public park.  Love isn’t real. And if it is, I can live without it.” 
Mackenzie looked at you with the most pity filled expression you’ve ever seen. She believes in love. She believes in the shitty romance novels and shitty movies. But you’ve picked up her pieces too many times to even contemplate believing in it. 
“Love is real!” she exclaimed. “How else could people have written sonnets and movies and books and songs about it?”
“People write stuff about monsters, too, but you don’t see any people bursting into flames in the sunlight,” you said. 
“In Twilight they sparkled!”
“I don’t give a shit what they did, they’re still made up,” you laughed. “It’s called fiction for a reason.” 
“You can’t make up a feeling. You can’t make up being so enamored by someone that you miss them so bad it hurts when they’re not with you!” 
“You’re just repeating things you’ve heard in movies about love!” you argued. “You haven’t even been in love. Not truly. You told me so when you broke up with Jason.” 
“So go on this date, and if it all works out, you can tell me what love is. They even call oxytocin the love chemical! You believe in science! And I believe that this guy is the perfect match for you,” your best friend continued to beg. “Think of it as a science experiment.” 
You ended up caving, more so to get Mackenzie to stop begging. It’s not like you were against dating, you’ve had plenty of relationships, but after so many failed ones you stop seeing the point. You could get your needs met without being tied down and risking becoming attached. That’s all that “love” really was. Attachment. Sure, it’s nice to have one person that’s somewhat of a best friend to spend your life with. But adding all of that “girlfriend and boyfriend” stuff to it is destined for failure. And you were done with it. 
When you found him at the restaurant, you were taken back. You’d seen pictures of him so that you’d know who to look for, but he looked so much better in person. His hair looked unbelievably soft, and he somehow made the locks seemingly out of place look perfect. His soft eyes were to die for, and the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up made the veins in his arm visible. All you wanted to do was trace them. 
“Y/N?” the boy asked when he noticed you staring. He stood up to greet you, helping you slip off your jacket to hang on the back of the chair as he pulled it out for you. He waited for you to sit down before taking a seat himself. “I’m Quinn.”
“So I’ve heard,” you chuckled. “I’ve been told that you’re the sweetest guy Mackenzie knows and are bound to change my mind about my stance on relationships.”
“I’ve heard you don’t believe in love,” Quinn countered. 
Your eyes widened, and if you were taking a drink, you would’ve choked on it.
“Wow,” you said amused. “Mack jumped to the nitty gritty then? I take it this means that you do believe in love?”
“I do,” Quinn confirmed. 
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Not yet. But I’ve seen it. My parents have the purest love I’ve ever seen. They spread it to everyone they know and everyone my brothers and I know. They make it hard to not believe in it.”
You couldn’t help but feel soft at his statement. You’ve never heard anyone tell you that they believe in love because of their parents. Hell, you haven’t really had a guy firmly tell you that he believes in love. It was always your girl friends swearing up and down that “the one” is out there. 
“Are you going to teach me how to love, Quinn Hughes?” you said flirtily, placing your hand under your chin.
Quinn reached across the table and grabbed your other hand, “I’m going to show you what a romantic date is supposed to be like. And if you like it, I’ll take you on another. And another. And if we get there, I’ll show you how a real man acts as a boyfriend. And hopefully, along the way, we’ll fall in love. And I won’t say it until I know it’s there.”
“How will you know it’s love?” you asked. He already had you melting at his advances. 
“I’ll know when it’s a feeling I’ve never felt before. I’ll know when it’s a feeling that can’t be described as anything but love. Are you in?”
You bit the inside of your cheek. Quinn was serious. He didn’t want a fling. He wasn’t here to get sex at the end of the night. He was here to see if he can find the real thing with you. He was here for a challenge. 
“I’m in.”
Over dinner you two did the usual small chat about yourselves, but that quickly developed into telling full out stories. It wasn’t awkward with him like it had been on some other first dates. You were strangely very comfortable with him. 
He told you about his summer at his lake house with his family and friends, you told him about your trip to London with your cousins. He told you about how he first met Mack when she was drunk off her ass at a party back when she was still dating Brock, the only ex she ended on good terms with and is still friends with, and you told him about how she was not her drunkest at that party, and that one time you two snuck out of a party to have a lightsaber fight but didn’t have lightsabers so you used traffic cones. 
“You did not!” Quinn laughed. 
“We did!” you shouted over your laughs. You were definitely getting stares, but you didn’t care. “I beat her ass, too.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow. 
“Oh yeah. I totally had the high ground.” 
Quinn walked you to your car at the end of the night. You two shut down the restaurant, neither one of you desired to leave. You boldly grabbed his hand as you started walking and were relieved when he looped your fingers together in response. 
“Did you have a good time?” Quinn asked you when you arrived at your car. 
“I really did. I’m not sure I want it to end,” you admitted. 
You wanted so badly to ask him to come over. But he told you that he wanted to give you a romantic date, not a pre-sex affair. He’s looking for something real. Something that isn’t just sex. 
“Me either,” he smiled. 
As you two looked at each other, your eyes started flickering from his to his lips. He noticed, but you knew that he was doing the same. 
Your hunger ended when Quinn finally leaned in. His hands slid down your waist and settled on your hips, pulling you closer to him. Yours went up and around his neck, happily content feeling the ends of his hair.
Quinn kissed you in a way that you’ve never been kissed before. It was soft. Sensual. It had you aching for more. The feeling that people describe as “sparks flying?” You were pretty sure this was it. 
The kiss wasn’t rough; it wasn’t filled with primal need. 
It left you breathless. Lightheaded. Warm. 
It was the type of kiss that told you there was more to him. And all you wanted to do was learn. 
“That was—“
“Don’t describe it,” Quinn cut you off in a whisper. He reached his hand out to cup your face, “Just feel it.” 
All you could do was nod your head. You felt your entire body quivering at his touch. 
Quinn smiled and opened up your car door for you, “Tell me when you get home?”
“Y-yeah. I will,” you stammered. You couldn’t stop looking at him. 
“Goodnight, Y/N. Drive safe!”
“Goodnight, Quinn,” you smiled. 
You watched him walk away in your rear view mirror, smiling madly. Quinn left you feeling like a giddy little girl. It was something that no one else has ever done. 
March 16, 2021
You were going on your fifth date with Quinn tonight, and Mack was swearing up and down that Quinn was going to make things official. 
“Y/N/N, trust me!” she said while dramatically shaking you by the shoulders. 
“I want to!” you laughed, shoving her off of you. “I just don’t want to get any hopes up. We’re going out to have a good time and that’s it!” 
“Hopes up you say?” Mack asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. “Does that mean you want Quinn to ask you? Do you, Y/N Y/L/N, WANT a boyfriend just mere weeks after saying you were done with dating forever?”
“I didn’t say forever!” 
“Alright!” she surrendered. “I’m keeping my mouth shut because I don’t want to jinx anything, but just know that I am a very happy girl right now!”
You shook your head at your best friend’s nonsense. Okay, maybe you were hoping what she was saying will turn out to be true tonight, and maybe you were liking the goodnight calls and good morning texts and mid day updates. And maybe you relish in the smile Quinn gives you when you stand at the glass during warm ups at his games while you wear his jersey. And maybe you’ve never felt like this before, and it was making you the happiest you’ve ever been. But you weren’t sure if it was love. Love was still a weary and scary concept for you at this point. But maybe… maybe this is pre-love? Maybe this is the build up. Maybe this is the jump before the fall. 
You weren’t scared of jumping.
Whatever it is, you’re pretty positive it’s too early for love. You’re just now open to the idea of love because of Quinn, so you certainly were skeptical at the notion of “love at first sight.” Although, it’s been a little too long to count as “first sight.” Love at fifth date? Love at hundredth facetime? Call it what you want, but it still felt way too soon. 
You were still doing your makeup when there was a knock at the door, signaling that Quinn was here. 
“Mack, could you—“
“I’m already on it!” she cut you off, rushing down the stairs to open the door. 
You tried to finish up your mascara really quickly, but that only resulted in your dropping it and smearing some across your cheek. 
“Shit!” 
“Shit?” you heard Quinn ask. You gasped in surprise, and he just laughed as he approached you. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed the top of your head before taking a look at you, “Ahh. I see the source of the shit.”
“It’ll wipe off, it’s fine,” you shrugged. “I’ll just need five more minutes?” 
Quinn smiled, “Take all the time you need to feel happy.” 
If you were alone and that was a text, you’d probably be kicking your feet at Quinn’s comment. He didn’t say anything teasing that you take forever, he didn’t use the cliché “you look pretty without makeup” or whatever, he said that he wants you to feel happy with your appearance. You didn’t know why that felt more romantic than a compliment; it just did. He was focusing on your emotions and confidence. He was validating you. Validation and understanding feels a lot more intimate than a compliment about your appearance. 
“I’m ready!” you sing-songed as you climbed down the stairs. 
Quinn was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands behind his back and a soft smile on his face. 
You jumped from the fourth step down to the second step. You reached out gently to tilt Quinn’s face towards yours and leaned down to crash your lips against his. You stepped down to the final step to become level with when he deepened the kiss. He released one of his hands to place it at the small of your back in order to draw you in, but the other remained. 
“Whatcha hidin’, handsome?” you asked cheekily. 
Quinn’s other hand quickly whipped around in front of his center and revealed a bouquet of daisies and lavender. You gasped and kissed him quick, taking the bouquet from him and inhaling its sweet scent with a smile after your lips parted.
“They’re beautiful,” you told him. 
“They’re not the only thing,” he whispered. 
“You flirt,” you blushed. 
You both bid your goodbyes to Mackenzie and walked out the door. Quinn rushed slightly ahead of you to open up the passenger door for you before making his way to the driver's seat. It was a quick drive to the mini golf place, and it was filled with you two goofily singing along to the radio. 
When you got there, you were surprised at how many people and families there were. It was a Saturday night, but still. You didn’t know this many people went mini golfing at any given moment. 
You picked out a pink club, and Quinn grabbed a green one. He held out his hand for you to take, and for once, you didn’t feel weird holding somebody’s hand in public. It was a small act, but it was still a big deal for you. You used to do it with previous boyfriends, but that was because you felt like you had to in order to try and feel like you were in a normal relationship. You want to hold Quinn’s hand. You love the way your hand fits in his and how warm his hands are. You love how rough they feel compared to your soft ones. Just this simple action made you feel safe and less overwhelmed by the amount of people. It made you feel like it was just you and him. 
“Ready to lose, Y/L/N?” Quinn taunted you.
“Don’t be so cocky,” you teased back. “I’m a pro at this.”
“You said you haven’t been mini golfing in years!” he pointed out with a laugh. 
“I’m trying to speak me winning into the universe, Quintin!” 
Needless to say, you were terrible, but Quinn gave you two extra puts each round to try and get you more points. It didn’t make much of a difference for how badly he was beating you, but it made you feel good.
“What ever happened to letting the girl win?” you groaned. “Some gentleman you are.”
Quinn softly smiled and walked over to you. Placing his hands on the small of your back, he kissed you gently, “I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t fake sucking.”
You dramatically threw your head back, groaned, then gave him a pout when you looked back at him. Quinn laughed and kissed you again, effectively wiping the pout off your face.
This was also something big for you– kissing in public. PDA. You’ve never done that. You always pulled away or forced the kiss to be a quick peck instead. You were worried about people staring and judging. But not with Quinn. You didn’t care who was around, you wanted them to know that you were happy. 
Unsurprisingly, Quinn won. He cheered with his club in both hands being held above his head, sending you into a fit of giggles. 
“Stop parading around like you just won the Stanley Cup!” you shouted. 
Quinn whipped his head towards you in mock offense. He walked towards you and kissed you again, much more firmly this time, “I’m sorry you sucked.”
“It’s okay,” you chuckled. 
“I do believe me winning deserves a prize!”
“Oh yeah? And what did you have in mind?” you smirked. 
You were expecting his answer to be something along the lines of another kiss or going out for ice cream, but what he said proved your best friend to be correct.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked you softly. He was confident in his question. He had the biggest smile on his face that was filled with so much hope and admiration. 
“I’d love to,” you answered. 
Now Quinn really looked like he won the Stanley Cup. His eyes lit up brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and his smile looked like it hurt. You should know, because your smile was so big that it did hurt. Quinn hugged you so tightly that your feet kicked off the ground and he spun you in a circle. When he put you back down, he kissed you passionately. It was different than every other kiss you two have shared, given that is a small number since this was only your fifth date. This one meant more. This one said more. 
When he walked you to your door and kissed you goodbye, you reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned around slowly, and you knew that the look in your eyes said all that you wanted to say.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
“Positive.”
Mackenzie was already in her room for the night, much to your relief. You and Quinn kissed all the way up the stairs and into your bedroom. The second your bedroom door closed; clothes began to be thrown off. He threw you on your back onto your bed like it was nothing, then he climbed on top of you and began to pepper kissed up your stomach, through your neck, across your jaw, until he finally reached your lips again. 
“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he said low.
“Don’t stop,” you panted. “Please don’t stop.”
April 14, 2021
You were pretty sure you were feeling it. No, you knew you were feeling it. 
Love. 
You were feeling just like the movies and love songs and poems said– you were enamored by Quinn. You missed him so bad that it hurt when you weren’t with him, especially when he was on roadies during the season (you were selfishly glad that it’s over for the time being). You felt like the best version of yourself when he was around. But you were also learning that your definition of love was so much more than that.
“OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN! I KNEW IT!” Mackenzie screamed when you told her. 
“Alright!” you giggled. “You knew it, you did it, congratulations! Now how do I tell him? Do I wait for him to tell me? What if it goes away and I don’t–”
“Are you sure it’s love?” she cut you off.
“I am. It’s new, and it’s freeing, and it’s–agh! It’s perfect. It has to be,” you said, covering your hands over your face so that she couldn’t see how wildly you were blushing and grinning. 
Mack grabbed your wrists and yanked your hands off your face, “I don’t think that’s going away, babe! Now tell me! The deal was that you’d tell me what love is! Spill it! And don’t quote the movies!”
“I think love is different for everybody. I’m feeling the stuff that they say in the movies and the sonnets and the songs, but it’s so much more than that. Love is… wild. Love is like a never-ending joy ride with the windows down and your favorite songs blaring on the stereo. Love is like that feeling you get in your body when you hear a new song, and it absolutely consumes you to where you heat up and feel like you're vibrating. Love is feeling like you could do the impossible as long as your person is right there beside you. Love can feel like you’re flying.
“But love can also make you feel safe. Love is feeling at home with your person, no matter where you are. You could be in the backseat of a car, but if you were with your person? That could be home for the time being. Love is like that feeling of pride and relief when you deep clean your house for the first time in forever. Love is like sitting by the ocean and watching the waves crash against the sand, and none of the sand ends up in your shoes. 
“Loving Quinn feels like a breath of fresh air. Loving Quinn makes me feel like I finally know who I am and who I could be. Loving Quinn makes me feel alive for the very first time. It’s everything.”
Mack looked like she could burst into tears then and there. You were about to hug her when an all too familiar voice ceased your movements.
“Did you mean that?” 
You turned around so quickly that your head spun. There, standing at the edge of your living room, was Quinn.
“Yeah,” you whispered with a nod. “Every word.”
Quinn rushed towards you and cupped your face, slamming his lips onto yours. You heard Mack clap with glee, but you didn’t care. She was slipping away, and only you and Quinn existed in the world at this very moment.
“I love you,” you breathed when you two had to come up for air.
“I love you,” Quinn echoed. “You described it perfectly. I felt every word. I am helplessly, irrevocably, completely, and utterly in love with you. I’ll never stop saying it. Not now that I know what it means.”
“I didn’t believe in love before you. I didn’t know what love was. It’s you, Quinn. My love is yours, and only yours.”
The smile on Quinn’s face was contagious, but your face was already painted with one. You didn’t expect to fall in love, and you certainly didn’t expect to say it first. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was a god, maybe it was the stars aligning. You didn’t know why, but you did know that you were made to love Quinn Hughes alongside all of the other things you were made for. 
Love was real. And you can’t live without it. And you’re so glad that you learned that. 
———
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ch3rriewine · 7 months
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Photo Booth Kissin' {P.P.}
summary: Peter's an awkward loverboy, but he's your awkard loverboy.
warnings: none i think just fluff :3, TASM!Peter Parker x reader hehe, no use of y/n, reader is kinda like super girly w the bows and sparkles idk
a/n: I HAVENT WRITTEN IN MONTHS SORRY here tho!
Peter’s life was boring—peaceful, but boring. Don’t get him wrong; being Spiderman is cool and all, but Peter Parker’s life could use some work. The most exciting thing that has happened to him recently was the time he got two yolks in one egg. Riveting stuff, right?
During another one of his literature classes that he doesn’t know why he took, he spots you. With a bow in your hair and a knit sweater falling over your figure, your head propped on your manicured hand while scribbling notes with the other. You sit in front of him and if Peter squints, he can see the small doodles littering the pages. Before he knows it, the professor announces that the lecture is done for the day. Peter panics; he wants to talk to you before you disappear and turn out to be a dream, but what would he even say? Doesn’t matter anymore since he chases after you to the door.
“Hey,” he says, looking a tad flushed after tripping over someone's water bottle.
“Oh, hi” you respond, your eyes a little widened at the sudden interaction.
“I, uh, I’m Peter” he say, sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take it and tell him your name. He repeats it in his head about a hundred times.
“I just, uhm, wanted to ask about…” he trails off, trying to remember if there were any assignments given. “The essay he said we had to do, yeah. When is it due again?” he hopes to any higher being that there was an essay due soon.
“Ah, yeah, it’s due next Monday” you reply, giving him a tight-lipped smile, ready to go back to your dorm.
“Cool, uhm, thanks! See you around, hopefully” with that, he bolts, leaving you confused and flushed. Hopefully
The cute boy in your class wants to see you around.
╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯
Two days later, Peter sees you again. It’s in the same class, and you’re as pretty as ever. He psyches himself up to sit next to you.
You look up from your laptop when he asks you if he can sit next to you. You nod, of course, and smile. He looks nervous, with fingers tapping on the table and cheeks a little red. It’s cute.
“Have you started on that essay?” you ask, trying to start conversation since it looks like he won’t.
“Huh? What essay? We have an essay?” he turns to face you, eyes wide.
“Yeah, the one you asked me about?” you laugh a little.
“Oh, no, I didn’t” his shoulders slump back down, and you smile at him.
“I didn’t either; I had other work to finish” he stares at you a little; it’s flattering, really. How shy he is around you. He barely knows you, but he’s convinced himself that you’re the greatest thing ever. He also may have looked up your instagram and fallen even harder as he looked at all your posts. Peter now knows what you ate at Thanksgiving 3 years ago.
“Same, I’m in STEM so you could imagine” he says, resting his head onto the table. Sleep deprivation a thing he is well acquainted with, unfortunately.
“STEM, wow, you must be smart then. Why’re you taking a classic lit class then?” Sure, you might’ve slipped in a compliment; it's not a crime to flirt a little. It takes Peter a few seconds to respond as he processes what you said, you think he’s smart.
“Uh, I was going through a phase with classic lit at the time, and I’ve been lazy to drop it. And, uh, I’m not that smart—pretty average actually. Like the most moderate person ever” He’s rambling and kind of lying. He’s doing really well in his other classes.
“Yeah? I think you’re pretty smart if you’re in STEM. Not everyday a guy is both pretty and smart.” His cheeks turn even redder, if possible, and he makes a sort of out of breath sound. “If you need any help with this class, I’d be happy to give you my notes on the book”
Jesus, you’re gonna kill the poor boy.
╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯
From then on, you sit beside him and throw in some flirty comments while he struggles to reciprocate. It feels too good to be true, how you seem interested in him and how you eagerly talk to him after lectures, even giving hm your number to talk about “class”. He’s waiting for the day you ghost him.
“Hey, would you maybe want to, like, hang out? Like on a date or something? Or just as friends! Actually, yeah, just hang out as friends; forget I said date sorry,“ he flounders, waiting for the rejection. Oh God, he’s just messed up the whole friendship and you’re gonna think that he’s weird and a creep and-
“I’d love to go on a date, Peter,” you smile “I was waiting for you to ask.”
“Oh, great, is Saturday at 3 okay? I’ll meet you outside your building and we could walk to that arcade?” He asks, eyes hopeful.
“Saturday at 3 is great. I love arcades, but you have to help me with the claw machines” For someone so smart and handsome, he doesn’t let himself think people like him.
“See you Saturday, Peter” you tiptoe to kiss his cheek, leaving sticky residue from your sparkly gloss and walk to your next class. He stands in place, a little starstruck and a lot flustered. He leaves the lipgloss there.
╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯
Saturday finally comes, and now it’s your turn to be nervous. You’ve switched outfits countless times, your hair is out of place, and your makeup doesn’t seem to flatter you. You’ve settled on a pretty blue dress with tights to protect you from the small chill. Two little bows clipped into your hair and knit cardigan falling over your shoulders—makeup finally looking presentable enough with maybe a little too much glitter on your eyes, but whatever. Your phone chimes as you’re applying pink sparkly gloss, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.
You throw your phone and lip gloss in your purse and bolt out the door. You spot him outside your building, as promised. He looks wonderful. Brown sweater and worn-in denim jeans—you can’t believe he’s so shy around you when he looks like that. He finally spots you, and wow, he thinks.
“Hey," he scolds himself for being so casual when he should be whisking you away to Italy, or something. He could’ve at least gotten you flowers.
“Hi, you look great,” you say in front of him, and seeing you up close is making him fall even harder, if possible.
“You look, wow, you’re just, wow” he can’t even believe you’re into him.
“Cmon, I wanna win some plushies,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He grips your hand harder and laces your fingers.
The walk is calm and the air is starting to get cool. You talk about class and a show you started. Peter listens intently, making mental notes about what you like and don’t like. Your hands stay intwined, and his thumb traces patterns on the back of your hand. He’s gotten more comfortable and less panicky in your presence, so you get to see his personality shine through. He’s incredibly funny. You can’t stop laughing on your way there, and he can’t stop thinking of more things to make you laugh.
The arcade is dark, with flashing lights from every game. Peter goes to buy some tokens, refusing your offer to pay half. Grabbing Peter’s hand and making a beeline for the claw machines, everyone knows they’re rigged, but you don’t care. You eagerly take the tokens and attempt to win the Kuromi plushie. After the 5th? 6th attempt? When the claw has dropped the plushie, you give up.
“Why do they do this to people! It’s false hope!” you whine to Peter as he laughs at your pout.
“Lemme try,” he nudges you over and puts in a token.
You watch with eyebrows furrowed as he wins it on his first attempt.
“What the hell, Peter?” you crouch to pull the plushie from the machine.
“What? Do you not like it?” He faces you, examining the stuffed, is she a rabbit? What animal even is Kuromi?
“I love her; just, how did you win it?” You look up at him incredulously. He must have some weird power that makes him win every claw machine.
“Oh, I don’t know; just position it right?” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in the process. You want to smooth them out with your fingers.
“Thank you!” you’re genuinely really excited over a cheap stuffed toy, not because you really wanted it, but because Peter won it for you. You wrap your arms around his neck in thanks. Peter freezes. He fees like a teenager at how he’s reacting to a hug of all things. He snaps back and hugs you back. You pull away to kiss his cheek. This is the second time you’ve kissed his cheek, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever get used to it.
“Lets go play games, pretty boy,” pulling away and leaving Peter to gather his brain and follow along.
You watch as he plays Pac-Man; its silly, but you love his face when he’s focused. Brows furrowed and lips in a thin line. He really is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. And he’s infatuated with you! Of all people! You swear half the girls in the class have a crush on him, but he gets nervous around you. You play some air-hockey, which you won (he let you win), and he won you some more plushies and some candy at the infamous claw machines.
When the games get old, the two of you leave the building. The sun is setting at this point, and you’re dreading leaving him.
“Oh, look! There’s a photo booth!” you point, excitedly tugging on his arm. “We should take some pictures.” you drag him into the booth, both of your thighs squished together and his legs at an awkward angle. He feeds the machine a few bucks, and the screen starts to count down.
You put on a sickly sweet smile, scrunching your eyes while Peter smiles big with pearly white teeth on display. The second photo you lean into Peter and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your body close to his. The third photo, you go for it. You grab his face and kiss him. His hands stay in the air as the glitter on your lips transfers to his. You taste like vanilla. You pull away, a little anxious that he didn’t want it. Those thoughts get pushed away when he grabs the sides of your face and kisses you until you can’t think. His hands are warm and big covering your cheeks as his lips move against yours. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck once more and deepen the kiss. Your lips move together in tandem as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs, the movement comforting.
The fourth photo is blurry, and you walk out with all your lipgloss on Peter’s lips.
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multifariousqueer · 11 months
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Ok here’s my request and it’s not smut so don’t worry lol.
What if like Yn tried sneaking into Mike’s room with some good news or smth and she catches him doing the deed with another girl so she decides to leave and then he’s blowing up her phone but she cuts him off. Idk just angst angst and more angst lol
Ofc love!!!
A/n: It’s good to be back writing fluff, hopefully no one has an issue with this but if they do, oh well🤷🏽‍♀️. As always, feel free to request, just know if it’s a smut req, it’s gonna be written on AO3. Speaking of Ao3, follow it, its in my bio ❤️
Warnings: Cheating, suggestivness, language, reader being a boss as bitch and cutting Miles off, angst, brief mentions of vomit, breaking in, toxicity
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“Congratulations, Y/n L/n you were admitted into (your dream college). We look forward to seeing you in the fall!” the admissions letter read
It felt like you were working towards this your whole life; your parents sacrificed everything to send you to a great school like Visions and they spent a ton of money investing into your future. To be honest, it seemed like a fever dream at first; you had wanted to go here since you were 11 and you were making your younger self so proud
You decided to call Miles and tell him the good news. Your parents were already informed and they were throwing you a party that weekend and you had told your friends, the only thing left to do was to tell the man you loved most in the entire world and his family that took care of you like their own.
You tried calling but it went straight to voicemail. This was unlike Miles because he never left you on delivered and he never declined your calls, even when he was doing Spiderman stuff. You decided to take a short walk over to his dorm to see if he was okay, since if he wasn’t home, Ganke was and you could just ask him where Miles was. So, you grabbed the letter, your phone and your bag and walked the 10 minute walk over to his dorm.
When you reached his dorm, you heard moaning and it sounded like the bed was hitting the wall. Your heart dropped to your stomach and tears welled in your eyes.
“no. It can’t be, Miles would never” you tried to reason with yourself
You knocked on the door and you immediately heard an “oh shit” come from the room, followed by shuffling. You begged and pleaded with God that this was all a mistake, a dream gone wrong, something other than what it was.
When no one answered for a second, you opened the door with the spare Miles gave you and you saw him on top of another girl. The girl was blonde, blue eyes, tallish, had an eyebrow piercing and looked like she could dog walk your ex-boyfriend
“m-Miles?” you questioned
“Y/n, It’s not what it looks like; I promise” He said frantically, trying to come towards you as you backed into the door
You felt sick to your stomach; it felt like someone dropped a two ton weight on your chest and crushed your heart. Miles and you shared some of the best and worst moments of your lives together and you never in a million years, thought that he would cheat on you. His mother raised him better than this and in that moment, you considered calling her to tell her what a whore she raised. You ran out of the room and to a trash can where you vomited, your stomach emptying all of it’s contents and hopefully, all of the memories you shared
“OMG ARE YOU OKAY?” Miles questioned
“GET AWAY FROM ME” You said, running away
He quickly webbed you in an attempt to explain but you weren’t having it
“How could you do this to me?” you kept whispering as he pulled you close and attempted to kiss your forehead and hug you
“I-I don’t know, it just happened. I still love you, Y/n I’m so sorry” Miles said, tears pouring through his eyes
You stood there motionless, numb and with tears glossing over your cheeks. This moment didn’t feel real, it felt like someone took you out of your body and Miles was hugging your shell.
He let you go but not before you looked in his eyes and said:
“I’ve been there for you for four years. I have been your girlfriend, engineer, friend, and in some cases, your mom. I feel so sorry that a beautiful soul like her could raise a poor excuse of a son like you. Don’t call me, text me or do anything to me. You just lost the only person who truly cared about you”
Miles just looked at you with rage and sadness in his eyes. His mouth was slightly agape but you just shoved your letter in his chest and stormed off.
You told your entire family, friend group and Miles’ parents about the affair and they all took your side. Miles’ mom was especially hurt, seeing as she saw you as a surrogate daughter
“Dios mío, Mija. I’m so sorry, from all of us No sé dónde me equivoqué(I don’t know where I went wrong)” She said, offering you a hug and a kiss on the cheek
“Gracias, Mama Rio but there wasn’t anything you could do about it. He made that choice to sleep with her and he has to live with the fact that he lost me forever” you spoke into her chest
“Si, si. I know it hurts but you’ll find someone one million times better than him, prometo” she said
“Thank you so much for understanding. I’ll still come over and participate in family functions if you’d like.” you spoke, even though your relationship with Miles was gone, you still valued your relationship with his mother
“Of course, mija. You’ll always have a home here” she said warmly
She wiped your tears and you headed for the door where you saw Miles. It had only been three days but he still looked disheveled, sad and had bags big enough to carry a gallon of milk under his eyes.
“Y/n, please listen-“ he started
You put in your headphones as you walked away, heading for the subway and fetching a taxi. Your friends already knew and were waiting for you in your dorm with chick flicks and food
“Heyy, we heard about the news. We’re so sorry, and we are here if you need anything” your roommate(your best friend) said
“Yeah” they all agreed
This time, the tears in your eyes were from the support you were getting, you smiled and sat down as they gave you your pajamas and slept over
The next week was a blur of you going to classes, Miles trying to speak to you, your friends talking about how shitty he was and people sending their condolences. You guys were the one couple people thought would never break up so this came as a shock to everyone. The Morales family send flowers(paid for with Miles’ allowance) and food, your family offered to come get you one million times, your friends comforting you in any way possible and even your teachers being a bit more lenient with you.
Miles was a train wreck on the other hand, he was broke, sad, and alone. Miles barely showed up for classes and when he did, he looked awful and stank. Where a clean, soft, sweet boy had once been; he was replaced by a crumb bumb who couldn’t keep his grades, friends or family afloat. The only person there for him was the girl he cheated with and he didn’t even want her anymore. He craved your sweet scent, your infectious laugh, your cooking, your kindness and your intelligence and so much more. Everything reminded him of you and it was killing him, even Ganke stopped talking to him.
People whispered in the halls as you two would walk through and even in the classes you had together. You had moved your seat away from him and your teachers were gracious in granting your request.
It was now nearing Summer and you were grabbing your things, smiling and getting ready to leave to your dream school. You had given Miles’ stuff back(lead to him begging for you back but you just left), erased any pictures of y’all together, said goodbye to his family and had wiped your hands clean of him. You began to feel like yourself again; you changed your hair, clothes, makeup and hangout spots(you avoided any graffiti clad buildings because you knew Miles would frequent there), you even went on a few dates
Most of them were a bust until you met one, his name was Thomas and he was nice and he was good looking. Where Miles and you differed, you and Tom came together. You shared common interests and you felt happy for the first time in a while. It began to feel like you had your groove back and you were a whole new person
It was a gorgeous summer day, the sun was shining and the birds were chirping; you had just gotten back from a cafe date with Thomas where you talked about nothing but everything at the same time, he offered to walk you home and gave you his sweater. You held his hand as you reached your apartment.
“wanna come inside?” you had asked for the first time
“yeah, sure. Only if you’re okay with it, I mean-“ he stammered
“I’m fine with it.” you smiled
You lead him to your apartment and kicked off your shoes.
“Hey, where’s your bathroom?” Thomas asked
“It’s right down the hall” you called, grabbing the remote and lighting a candle
“Okay, thanks babe” he called
“Hey who are- AHHH” Thomas screamed
“THOMAS. THOMAS?? OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?” you asked, running to the bathroom where you saw Thomas webbed to a wall with a figure standing in front of him
“Miles?” you asked in disbelief
“Hola, Mami” he smirked
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friccafracc · 13 days
Note
DROP THE FIC OR IM COMING FOR YOUR KNEECAPS
ALRIGHT OK BUT I NEED IT TO BE KNOWN THAT I HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHING SERIOUSLY SINCE HIGHSCHOOL OK
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Something is after me. I know it is, I’ve seen it. It looks like a man, but I know that it’s not. It…. It’s face is like a mockery of something human- like- like if you asked someone who has never seen a human to draw or model a person’s face, their smile. No… I don’t think any human would be able to get it that wrong.”
“And I’m not crazy, alright? God, y’all probably get that a lot here, don’t you? You people specialize in crazy. Not that I’m anyone to judge anymore, given the shit I went through before coming out here. I didn’t even know a place like this existed outside the Usher Foundation. I just…there’s some weird, crazy shit out there I guess, and when I heard about y’all, I figured I should probably pay a visit. At least let someone know before I die.”
“I know I’m gonna die.”
“I suppose I should start from the beginning. My name is Joshua Nelson, I’m originally from the States–Memphis Tennessee. Now, if there’s one thing you should know about Memphis, it’s that nobody in their right mind should EVER move there on their own accord, ‘cause you’ll either get mugged or stalked or both. I was born and raised there, so I never really got the choice during the formative years of my life. I’ve learned to live with it, though.”
“I worked retail in a gas station before…well, everything. It was a shithole. The kind of building where, no matter how hard you scrubbed and no matter how much bleach you used, the stains and smell of smoke would never leave. Instead just…mingled with the citrus of the chemicals. It paid the bills, though, and I was never witness to a robbery, so I couldn’t complain too much. The customers were docile and if I noticed anyone shoplifting, I kept it to myself. I wasn’t getting paid enough to give a damn.”
“We had regulars that would come in on a schedule and regulars that wouldn’t. People who were just passing through the city or visiting family or friends. You get all types in that kinda place, and if you’re placid enough to any asshole who’s having a bad day, everyone gets along just fine. There were a couple of regulars who were friendly enough, though, that I remember their names. Miss Kelly was an older woman, short and heavyset–she was one of the friendlier ones. We’ve got a lot of talkers in the south and boy did she make sure I knew every exact reason for what her kids were getting up to, or what was going on in a reality show she was hooked on at the time.”
“George Michael, a thin man in his 40s, maybe, always came in whenever he needed a new pack of cigarettes, I think he was a chain-smoker, cause he was in there a lot.”
“And then…then there was Hunter. Now Hunter was a younger man, maybe college age. A little older than that? Poor bastard was hooked on something, that much anyone could tell. He was gaunt, a little twitchy, you know, telltale signs of drug abuse. I could never tell what specifically he was on, but then again, it was never my business to know. I treated him the same as every other customer, we all knew he wasn’t gonna cause any harm, he usually came in for food, chips and hotdogs and stuff and he never caused a fuss.”
“I think… I think Hunter is dead.”
“One day he came in, I think it was a Wednesday or something cause it was slow that afternoon, and he burst through the door. Well–maybe not burst, but he came in the building like he was racing to get indoors first before someone else. The guy was usually jittery and, I’ll admit, a little shifty usually, but this was full blown paranoia. It startled me at first, his intensity, and he made a b-line towards the back of the store and ducked behind one of the shelves. Maybe not duck completely like ducking for cover, but it was obvious he was hiding. It almost made me expect the police or some drug lord to come storming through the door, but nobody else came.”
“Hunter stayed pacing in the building for a good 20 or 30 minutes, periodically lifting his head to crane his neck and peer out the window or the glass of the door. I checked once or twice as well, but if someone was out there, I didn’t see them. Eventually the guy calmed down enough to buy something and when he approached the counter with his bag of Doritos he looked almost like he was going to be sick.”
“I asked him if everything was alright, but he just shook his head and left.”
“I didn’t see him again for another week or two after that. Obviously I assumed the worst. I theorized that someone was after him and when he didn’t show up when he usually did it was more than enough to confirm my suspicions. Be it cops or some random person on the street, I couldn’t decide which fate would be worse, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel for the guy at least a little bit.”
“Hunter was almost completely out of my mind when I saw him again. I was surprised. By all accounts, it didn’t look like anything had changed about him. Maybe aside from the fact that his posture was way better than it usually was when I saw him, but other than that, nothing was out of the ordinary.”
“Business went on as usual and when he came up to the till with a liter of coke, I offered him a ‘Welcome Back’ and rang him up.”
“When I turned back to him, he was smiling. For some reason it was like a pit opened in the bottom of my stomach. I couldn’t understand why, though. It looked like Hunter–patchy, unkempt stubble, greasy hair, thin face, sunken eyes. His appearance had never bothered me before, so I was struck with confusion that mixed in with the undefinable, sudden sense of dread.”
“‘Thank you,’ he said as I handed him his change. And he walked out the door. It sounded like Hunter, too.”
“Hunter returned the next day, and the next. Each time he was polite and quiet, and each time he smiled when I rang him up. I counted his teeth. They were straight and flat. When I counted mine in the mirror when I smiled, I saw 17 or 18. Hunter’s counted 24.”
“Maybe he has a dental problem that I didn’t notice until now, I told myself. Human bodies are weird. Sometimes you have more teeth than usual.”
“The fourth day he came in a row, I saw his eyes and his pupils were…swollen, is the only way I can describe them. I know what people’s eyes look like when they’re high. This was not that. It was like they almost swallowed up his irises completely, and they were dull. Dull in the sense that the fluorescents overhead did nothing to cast any reflections onto them. It made me want to writhe and squirm whenever he looked at me.”
“I called in sick the fifth day. I knew Hunter would be back in that gas station to see me. I knew it was to see me. And I knew that thing. That..whatever it was. It wasn’t Hunter.”
“I guess a part of me was always dreading that day. I had always heard stories about people being stalked from friends of friends. It was only a matter of time before it happened to me, right?”
“I saw Hunter at the grocery store the next day, posture straight and face split open into that smile with too many teeth. I didn’t have the mind to be polite. I turned completely around and walked the other way, trying to fool myself thinking that he hadn’t seen me. I kept a pocket knife on me after that encounter. I probably should have been before, but hindsight is always 20/20.”
“Each time I saw him after that, it was worse. On the street to my apartment, his eyes were too wide and his grinning mouth was slightly agape. A crude facsimile of delight as I rushed past him. I stopped going into work when I started to spot him everywhere I went. Every destination no matter how far or random, he was there, grinning at me. He knew where I lived, that I had no doubt. So I went to a friend’s one night hoping to throw him off. Maybe I could move out and lose him. Lord knows I didn’t have the money to break my lease early, but I was desperate.”
“My friend suggested I call the police, but for some reason I was convinced that wouldn’t help. Cops usually only made things worse in that town, and I had a sinking feeling going that route would only waste my time.”
“The final straw was the second night I was crashing on my friend’s couch. I was exhausted, the past few weeks spent sleepless and paranoid and I was ready to finally pass out when I heard a light, rhythmic tapping on the window behind my head.”
“It’s just the wind, I thought to myself. A tree branch or something scraping against the glass. The exhaustion was completely gone, my pounding heart and pumping adrenaline overpowering any lame excuse that I would be stupid enough to be reassured by.”
“I didn’t move from where I lay. Tap. Tap. Tap. Came through the window once again.”
“I don’t know why I laid there for so long, unmoving, convinced that if I didn’t turn around, whatever it was outside would lose interest and leave. I really, really wanted it to leave.”
“I lay still for what felt like hours, every muscle in my body wound up and tense and ready to leap into action at any given opportunity. I was praying the opportunity would never come.”
“I don’t know how long it was when the tapping ceased, but it was long before I finally managed to relax. It seemed like my strategy worked. What an idiotic thing to think. Like I was a child hiding from an imaginary monster in the dark. Like the logic of not giving a stalker any attention so it would go away was sound. No. I think it was that false hope that landed me in this situation.”
“Because when that tapping came again, I wasn’t prepared to turn around. But I did. I turned around and what I saw in the darkness through that glass was… I don’t know what it was. I know it had eyes and teeth. It was grinning, but its teeth stretched well beyond what would be the borders of its face. God, I couldn’t see its face. I knew it was Hunter, though. It had those same lightless eyes that stared back at me every time I closed my own. Dead and dark and dull and staring at me–eating at me, wide and gleeful and spilling into the shadow that I could only assume was a part of the creature, itself. Its form took up nearly the entirety of the window, blocking the outside world. It didn’t move.”
“I screamed. I screamed and closed the curtains and I hid. This woke my friend of course, and she came stumbling out of her room, looking bleary but alert. I tried to signal to her not to go to the window or do anything or to call the police. Thankfully she got the message and the cops were there within the hour.”
“They didn’t find anything. Or anyone, for that matter. I left out the…the monster bit, because I assumed it might land me somewhere I really didn’t want to go.”
“They were about as helpful as I thought they would be. Told me to call them again if I noticed any suspicious activity.”
“I booked my flight here that very night. I wasn’t going to stay in that goddamn city with whatever the HELL that thing was. I don’t want to end up like Hunter. I don’t want it to wear my skin.”
“It will, though. I know it will and it scares me more than anything in the world. And I know I can’t escape it, either.”
“It followed me here. I saw it. It was still grinning at me and it was still. Wearing. Hunter’s. Skin. The shadow that was cast over it made it so I could only see the whites of it’s eyes....its teeth.”
“I don’t want to die.”
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gamermattsgf · 2 months
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hey ik this isn’t a req but do you have any tips on writing fics?? im planning on writing and posting on my blog and you’re one of my biggest inspos so i’d love to hear your advice!!!
HIIIII, I’m so sorry I’ve gotten to u so late. I’ve been a bit MIA on here for a while because of stuff going on in my personal life, however, I would love love love to give you some of my personal tips :))
Another anonymous has asked something similar so this is also for them if they’re seeing this!! 🎀
Tip 1 : I’d say my first and most important tip is detail. In my own personal experience, people get bored of reading the exact same generic language used in the same way, if ur going to use generic language then as long as u can manipulate it to make it look pleasing + make it flow, you’ll be fine. People enjoy a story much more if it’s packed full of detail because they’ll be able to visualise it better. And yes, although sometimes it can be draining and you can get bored constantly having to put in detail, trust me, push through it and the writing will be much nicer in the end.
Tip 2 : my second tip is pretty simple, but much needed. DON’T GET LAZY WITH TENSE / PARAGRAPH SPACING AND PUNCTUATION. Obviously, it’s an absolute bitch trying to proofread everything, but when you don’t and someone is reading something with a bunch of typos + different tenses in it, it just looks poor and messy, especially when your paragraphing is all over the place, so be aware of that.
Tip 3 : Again, this is personal preference for me, but I’m often more drawn to stories that are unique / have specific character aesthetics. Don’t get me wrong, I love a simple reader x bf!Matt or bf!Chris, but don’t be afraid to shake it up a little. Maybe they’ve got a unique aesthetic? Or something that they really like? Or they have a specific piercing/tattoo (I could go on with this but I think you get the idea lol).
Tip 4 : PLOT. It’s important to build up character relationships and equally build up the atmosphere and vibe of your fic, don’t skip it just to get straight to the good bit, because 9/10 times it’s not worth it because your piece of writing lacks flow. Plus plot is so fun to write in my opinion, sometimes I get bored of writing smut because the actual characters are more interesting haha. (Side note: I wanna start writing angst and tooth rot for you guys 💀)
Tip 5 : finally, if you’re wanting to write about Matt and Chris, I think it’s essential you get each of their mannerisms right. You know you’re reading something good when you can actually picture them saying / doing what’s written down in the fic. Also I know this is weird but clothes are important, you need to make sure you write them into something they would / could pull off because it boosts your writing. Equally, if your going to use pet names, make sure it’s something you can picture them saying, if you can’t visualise it in their voice in your head, then don’t use it because I guarantee you it’ll also come out wrong in the reader’s head.
💋: that’s pretty much my 5 main tips that I live by whilst writing, if anyone needs any more help don’t be shy to message me :) thank you for even wanted my advice on the matter, it means a lot to me that people take inspiration from what I write.
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once-upon-an-animation · 10 months
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Some thoughts on Annabeth’s Character Arc
Before I begin, just want to say sorry about not being online much. I’m in a very busy period of my life and haven’t had the mental capacity to address all the responses I’ve gotten on posts and such. Will do that in the future.
That being said, I still enjoy writing, so today, I’m going to write a post sharing my thoughts on Annabeth’s character arc in the original PJO series.
For context, someone posted on Reddit that TTC was their favourite book in the original series because of Annabeth’s absence. The comment resulted in a discussion about why people didn’t like Annabeth’s character. I shared the extremely unpopular opinion that Annabeth’s character peaked in Sea of Monsters for me, and I didn’t really love what was done with her character from TTC onwards. Here’s why:
In general:
• ⁠I feel like her perspective towards Luke lacked a lot of nuance. I’m fine with her not thinking he’s completely evil, but it would have been nice to see her also consider all the harmful things Luke had done before the incident with Silena in TLO. It just felt like her POV was sweeping a lot of those things under the rug even though I know that wasn’t necessarily the intent.
• ⁠The Perachel thing would have been fine if there was an on-page apology. But the fact that there is none and it seemingly took Rachel becoming the Oracle and not being allowed to date Percy for Annabeth to finally stop hating her seems like a missed opportunity to have Annabeth address her pride and the way she acts towards others.
• ⁠On that same note, I have mixed feelings about Annabeth’s overall character arc in PJO. While I feel like her relationships with other characters in the story changed over time, I don’t always feel like she truly changed as a person. I mean, she ended up being right about Luke in the end, so it’s not like she had any major motivation to shift her perspective of the world, change her way of thinking, or work on her personality flaws. Given that her fatal flaw is hubris, I would have loved to see a character arc where her pride gets her in deep trouble and she has to confront it head-on by actively learning humility in different ways. She did that well in the first two books, which is why she peaked for me as a character in SoM, but it feels like TTC lost the rhythm and never picked it back up. I would have liked to see her acknowledge being wrong about the way she treated Rachel, and walking away from the war with a different perspective on Luke other than just “I was right all along”. It would have also been nice to see more people actually call Annabeth out on her BS. Someone other than Percy should have said something to her about her behavior. I feel like Chiron could have done it in a “loving dad who wants the best for you” kind of way. Thalia could have also done it.
Or maybe Annabeth gets a visit from Athena after BoTL, where they talk about the quest, the battle, and the stuff on Daedalus’ laptop, but Athena also expresses disappointment in Annabeth for acting petty and not recognizing Rachel as a useful addition to the quest. Maybe Athena reiterates that she doesn’t approve of Percabeth’s friendship, especially because it seems like Annabeth is letting her feelings cloud her judgement. Annabeth’s arc could have been about learning what true wisdom is. Wisdom and knowledge aren’t the same thing, and wisdom is so much more than just knowing facts and battle plans. Wisdom is about maturity, exercising well-informed judgement, and recognizing the truth about things, including yourself. Humility is a huge aspect of gaining wisdom and I think it could have been a great arc for Annabeth, given her fatal flaw. Her overall arc in HoO could have been a continuation of this, especially with what happens in BoO with Piper in that temple.
• ⁠I don’t really like the way her arc with her dad was resolved. The way the story is written in TTC, it seems to imply that Annabeth was to blame for assuming the worst of her dad/stepmom (which I know was probably not the intent, but it has that vibe). I think there was a better way to acknowledge that Annabeth’s parents do in fact care about her, but didn’t do the best job of showing it when she really needed it and made her feel like she needed to run away.
• ⁠There are tiny things that Rick adds into the way he writes Annabeth that make Annabeth seem kind of inconsiderate, like all the little moments of aggression , the fact that she keeps teasing Percy about Rachel even after everyone else has moved on, or in Crown of Ptolemy where Percy said that he “has a healthy fear of Annabeth because she’s kicked his butt plenty of times” and doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to disagree with her. I know it’s mostly supposed to be amusing, but it’s a little uncomfortable to read at times. It sucks because Annabeth is obviously supposed to be a kind person and in many ways, she is, but these moments don’t always make her look nice.
Whew. Sorry that this was long.
I chalk much of my complaints with Annabeth up to not having much of her POV in the original series. Then again, even if Rick decides to delve deeper into Annabeth’s story in the Disney series, I feel like he’s just generally not that great at writing female characters, so I don’t know how much he’ll be able to improve this. In addition, it feels like Rick has generally been losing sight of his characters and they feel less and less like themselves with every addition to his franchise. I’m genuinely nervous for Chalice of the Gods because I don’t know what he’s going to do with Annabeth’s character and I don’t know how much I trust him, lol.
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wtfsteveharrington · 2 years
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what i’m waitin’ for / steve harrington x reader 
contents & contains: period sex & protective steve who hits raw but pulls out bc balance. brief mention of death / nightmares. if you don’t like blood maybe skip this one but it’s not super graphic at all. also this is a little angsty like it kinda hurt to write when it was supposed to just be wanky
author’s note: LISTEN!! i wrote a “period sex with ___” for seven st characters. none of them were going to see the light of day but i’ve been affectionately bullied into posting steve’s. fair warning - it’s written in bullet point format which isn’t my typical style. 
word count: almost 1.1k
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steve isn’t onboard at first with the whole period situation
mainly because he’s “seen enough blood in his lifetime, i don’t want even more on solely my dick”
plus he assumes blood = pain and is half convinced you’d hurt yourself to get him off
which like… you probably would but this isn’t that kind of situation
“but steve…. need you so bad, my pretty boy. don’t you miss me? hmm?”
and he groans, grabbing your hips and letting you rock yourself against his thigh. he misses you literally every second he isn’t with you, and even sometimes when he’s with you he starts dreading the impending sense of missing you when you leave
he’s hopelessly whipped
steve harrington would risk everything for you. he would fight every single monster in every dimension, would risk getting fired from every job trying to sneak you home free stuff (looking @ you pints of scoop’s ahoy may they rip), and so much more.
but fucking you on your period?
his eyes are focused on the way your hips move, watching your own hands slide under your shirt to start cupping your breasts
and you think you’ve won him over
until you hear that damn sharp inhale, his grip loosening and “it’s just a few more days. then i’ll take care you for a whole night straight”
so you take matters into your own hands and print out a “why period sex is good for girls” article to leave on his desk
which he of course is so entertained by and “you’re persistent i’ll give you that”
the true moment steve breaks his no period rule?
maybe it’s a little selfish BUT
let’s be honest, that boy has nightmares left and right. you can’t see what he has seen and not.
so one night he’s waking up in a panic, having just dreamed that you were killed right in front of him
he tried to save you
steve’s main goal in life is to keep you safe
but he didn’t
so when he’s waking up and you’re just sleeping so soundly next to him?
he’s wrapping his arm around your waist, lips so warm on your neck as he wakes you up
and you just feel him pressing into your thigh
“wake up, honey. nothing’s wrong, just need you.” which of course you’re not going to say no to. ever.
but you have to prepare yourself.
steve barely lets go of you until you’re pushing against his chest and “just give me a minute to clean up, okay?”
he read the article multiple times. he knows he needs to get a towel laid down, he knows missionary is one of the best for cramps
there’s a second towel being rolled up for under your hips and you want to giggle so badly when you come back to the bed and see his set up
you settle for grabbing his hands, his waist, pulling him flush against you until your lips meet and steve just feels so needy
normally you guys savor foreplay, taking time to touch one another and kissing until you’re both seconds away from being pushed to desperate
but tonight steve has you laying back on the bed, pressing his lips in a trail up from your knee to your inner thigh and over your stomach, all the way up to your lips
his fingers tease your clit but his eyes are focused on yours, so intense that you can barely even concentrate on anything else
“you know i’d do anything for you, right? i’d give up everything if it meant keeping you safe.”
which makes your heart flutter both with the overwhelming sensation of being so loved and apprehension because what brought this on
your arms are around his neck, fingers in his hair
he doesn’t want to dwell or it’ll ruin the moment so he’s just lining himself up and pushing in and you’re both a moaning mess
because fuck you feel so warm that steve might go crazy and you’re so sensitive that even just being full like this could make you come which is ridiculous but you’re not complaining
the sex? so gentle but firm. just steve trying to convey how much he loves you, how much he needs you in every way
he’s constantly checking in to make sure you’re okay, which of course you are but you’re eating up how worried he is
until he’s bringing your knees over his shoulders and fucking into you just so deep with these long strokes that aren’t quick but the rhythm is pushing you over, your lips parted as you moan out a mess of begging for more and his name
you’re not sure what pushes you over the edge but steve’s savoring every second of feeling you come around him, rocking himself into you for as long as he can manage before pulling out at the last second
you feel the warmth dripping on your pussy, watching his face as his orgasm wrecks through him
the two of you stay like that for a moment, your knees over his shoulders as he rubs your legs and turns his head to press tender kisses to your skin
steve 100% has to practically drag you to the shower after because you were already tired and now you were fucked and you just want to sleep
“absolutely not, babe. the article specifically said to shower after and you need to pee because we’re not gonna let you get a uti. plus how can you sleep in this?”
he makes all very valid points
your boyfriend gets you both cleaned up and lets you stay under the water a few minutes longer while he goes to clean up the towels and get the bed back together for you two
the sun’s starting to come up so he’s closing the curtains tight and turning off his alarm set to go off in less than two hours
you two fall asleep within minutes of laying on the bed, your boyfriend tangling himself around you which would normally too hot to deal with but you know he needs it
so you press gentle kisses to his neck and drag your fingers up and down his back, murmuring how much you love him until he falls asleep
and he sleeps peacefully, not another nightmare plaguing him the rest of the night
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seokmthw · 11 months
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take a break | kim gyuvin
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⇢ pairing: gyuvin x reader
⇢ warnings: fluff
⇢ word count: 676
⇢ note: sorry for being a little ia as of late, i promise i'm trying my best to get some stuff written! i started my full time job last week and have been super tired, so please bear with me!
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you huffed in annoyance, tugging at the roots of your own hair at the dreaded powerpoint that was displayed in front of you on your all too bright laptop screen, your mind reeling with all the possible things that could go wrong while you were presenting it in class the next day.
you’d been working tirelessly at it for hours, the only thing keeping you going being a coffee and chinese takeout your boyfriend had brought you for dinner hours earlier.
said boyfriend wouldn’t stop trying to get you to call it quits for the night, either.
“y/n~” gyuvin whined, his voice slightly muffled from the comforter he was currently burying his face in, “come on, love, you’ve been working yourself to death. at least take a ten minute break.”
“i can’t, i need to make sure everything is included in this so i can minimize the chances of me screwing everything up tomorrow,” you passively dismissed, waving your hand lazily at him while you were reaching for your coffee, which by now was watered down, but you didn’t care.
after a few more minutes of typing and reviewing your notecards, gyuvin was talking again, “if you don’t stop for the night, i’m gonna start crying. is that something you really want?”
you couldn’t help but chuckle, “whatever you say, gyu.”
“babe,” gyuvin defeatedly sighed, “i know this is something yourself stressed out over, but i seriously think you’ll do just fine. besides, if you keep cramming stuff in for hours on end, it doesn’t really help you retain much anyway.”
you stopped reading your notecard halfway through, absorbing every word he just spoke and realized that maybe, just maybe, he was right. and as if on cue, he was speaking again.
“also, i really, really wanna cuddle with you right now. i’ve been waiting for hours and i feel like i’m gonna die.”
you chuckled, swiveling in your chair to face the boy who sprawled out on your bed. his hair was in messy tufts in top of his head, his t-shirt was bunched up enough to reveal a small sliver of his tummy and his sweatpants were sloppily tied up. the comforter was barely covering him as well, just enough to give him the warmth and safety he needed.
you had to admit, his arms looked beyond welcoming.
you sighed, taking one last look at your powerpoint before finally closing your laptop and putting your notes away in your bag, finally admitting, “i guess you’re right.”
“oh sweetheart, come here,” you rose from your chair and crawled into bed, where gyuvin was laying with his arms wide open, and melted into his embrace like your life depended on it.
you could feel a soft laugh rumble in his chest, his voice quiet as he spoke now, “i can tell you’re tired.”
“i really am,” you agreed sleepily, your eyes growing heavy after only moments of being wrapped up with him, “thank you, gyu. i mean it. i don’t know what i would do without you.”
he pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, pulling the comforter over your bodies and somehow managing to bring you even closer to him. within mere minutes, he could hear your breath even out and small sounds erupting from your lungs to let him know that you were sound asleep.
the boy smiled to himself, somehow managing to shut the lamp off behind him without waking you. while it was almost a chore for him to get you to take even a five minute break, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. there was always something about the way you would laugh at his corny jokes and whining that always made him want to keep pestering you.
he brushed the loose strands of hair from your face and kissed your forehead once more, mumbling, “i love you, stubborn ass. you’re gonna knock that presentation out of the park tomorrow.”
slowly but surely, he fell asleep too, content by the mere fact that he had you by his side.
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theycallmebecca · 11 months
Note
Can I request either Ari or Chris jealousy prompt “do you ever ask why I get this way? Maybe it’s because - y’know what, never mind”
Hey nonny! Thanks for this fantastic prompt! I wrote most of this the other day and I had another ending in mind.. but it just wasn't working with me... but oh well.
This Memorial Day weekend, I’m accepting prompts. The information (and links to stories written for it) are in this post.
Title: Secrets of the Heart
Pairing: Ari Levinson x female reader
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language
Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.
Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context. 
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Women love Ari.
Ari loves women.
You love Ari.
Ari loves you like a best friend.
You sigh into your drink as another woman stops Ari on his way back to your table. You avert your eyes, not wanting to see the same routine they all do when they see him in a bar.
She’ll touch his arm.
He’ll flex his biceps.
She’ll giggle and coo over his “big strong muscles”.
He’ll give her a panty melting smile.
She’ll give him her number.
He’ll pocket the number and promise to call her.
She’ll go back to her friends, who will all giggle and steal glances at him.
He’ll come back to your table and drop into his seat like nothing has happened.
“What’s that face about?” he asks, picking up his beer and taking a swig of it.
“Just thinking,” you lie as you adjust your expression. He doesn’t know you’re in love with him and it’s better that way. Afterall, you are the opposite of his type, judging by the women he’s gone out with.
“Sounds serious,” he says, leaning forward. Then, because he doesn’t have a serious bone in his body, adds, “Tell Ari what’s troubling you.”
“I’m on my period and I have cramps,” you say, knowing that will make him uncomfortable. “So I’ve decided to go home.”
He cringes at the womanly stuff, but his expression turns to a frown when you say you’re leaving. “You haven’t finished your beer,” he says.
“I don’t need the calories,” you state as you stand up. “I ordered an Uber so you can stay and -” You motion in the general direction of the woman he was flirting with. “- do whatever.”
You don’t wait for him to respond as you cross the bar as quickly as you can. You have no intention on going straight home, instead, you plan to walk the two blocks to the ice cream parlor where you’ll get your favorite ice cream and eat it while you wait for the Uber to pick you up.
It’s still early in the evening, so you aren’t alone on the street as you walk to your next destination lost in thought. You know breaking ties with Ari would make your life a little easier, but the thought of not having him in your life is more heartbreaking than watching him flirt with nameless women in front of you.
You’re waiting for the light to change around the corner from the ice cream shop when an all to familiar voice says, “I thought you said you ordered an Uber.”
Spinning around, you stare at Ari in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you,” he counters, pulling you out of the way as another group of people walk past.
One of the women in the group stops and looks at his hand on your arm before looking at you. “Are you ok?” she asks.
Ari smartly let’s go and takes a step back, but you nod and assure the woman that you’re fine.
She glares at him and then takes his picture of the two of you with her phone. “Just in case,” she says then she walks away.
Ari curses under his breath before turning to you. “Why are you acting like this?” he asks, his tone calmer, likely to avoid anyone else stopping.
“Why are you following me?” you counter. “I told you I was leaving so you could go home with that wannabe model.”
Ari lets out a satisfied noise. “And there it is,” he says in a sarcastic tone. “The real reason you left the bar.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” you demand.
“You always do this,” he says, throwing his hands up. “It’s Thursday, our night. Yeah, I flirted with her, but I wasn’t going to ditch you for her. I don’t even know her.”
You roll your eyes. Not knowing a woman has never stopped him from taking her home.
“You know what, fine,” Ari says. “Leave. Go home. I’ll see you later.”
“Do you ever ask why I get this way?” you call after his retreating back, the words coming out of your mouth before you can stop them. 
He pauses and turns to look at you, his face unreadable.
“Maybe it’s because -” His eyes roll, obviously expecting another dumb excuse and you get control of your tongue. “- y’know what, never mind, fuck you, Ari Levinson.”
Taking advantage of the green light, you race across the street, embarrassed that you almost spilled your secret to that asshole.
A series of honks makes you turn and you see Ari running across the street, traffic lights be damned.
“Because why, damn it?” he demands once he reaches you. “I fucking need to know.”
“Ari, please, don’t,” you beg softly. “I -”
“Because I can tell you why I go home with those wannabe models,” he says. “Because I can’t be with the one person I want to be with.” He tilts your chin so he can look you in the eye. “You.”
Your heart skips a beat as you stare at him. “What?” Your brain is too stunned to say anything more.
“It’s always been you,” he says. “Just you. Perfect you.”
“But I’m not your type,” you state.
“You are my type,” he argues. “I only date the wannabes because they don’t look like you, don’t act like you… because they aren’t you. If I can’t have you, I don’t want a substitute. For the longest time, I’ve just been your best friend and I accepted that fact. But I want more, I need more. I want you, all of you.”
“You do?”
“I do,” he whispers. “But the question now is, do you?”
“Yes,” you say, on the verge of tears. “Ari, yes, always.”
“Thank fuck,” he says before he pushes you up against the brick wall of the closest building and kisses you, ignoring the cat calls and the ‘get a room’ comments from people passing you on the street.
That first kiss is better than you ever imagined it would be. The second kiss is even better than the first.
Pulling away, Ari rests his forehead against yours and says, “How about we get some ice cream then go back to your place. I think the rest of this conversation would be better in private.”
"Yes," you reply, looking down at your hand that clasped in his. "Ari."
His eyes meet yours in question.
"I love you," you say, needing him to know the full extent of your feelings for him.
"I love you, too," he replies.
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ilovebeingt4t · 7 months
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a (not) little rant about total drama’s portrayal of dissociative identity disorder in ROTI and AS
a few little tidbits before we get into the juice…
-i don’t have DID ! i have a dissociation disorder and i’ve done a lot of research on DID, but that obviously doesn’t mean i know as much as someone in a system would. if i make any mistakes or you want to add/correct anything, please do !
-since there isn’t an official name for the system as a whole, i’m gonna use “mike system” to refer to mike, chester, svetlana, vito, manitoba, and mal as a system
-before anyone says it, i know it’s “just a kids’ show” but it’s a kids’ show i’m insane and not normal about. so i’m very passionate about this. also kids’ shows should still be normal about mental illnesses/disabilities so idc
alright stinkers… let’s get into it
ok ! mike systems DID in ROTI isn’t GOOD representation but it isn’t like. the worst out there compared to some other media. some huge positives are the way the alters have actual triggers, and that everyone in the system IS portrayed as their own person, not just an extension or part of mike. i interpret the “gasp” the body does with switches as a stand in for dissociation (since they couldn’t really have him just sit there and stare into space bc of plot/time reasons) and it’s very easy to assume the role of everyone in the system from their personalities and triggers. the best example of this to me is vito ! vito is a “tough guy” who’s triggered to front by his shirt coming off, it’s easy to put the pieces together and assume his role is a protector who formed due to sexual abuse.
obviously, the use of the outdated term multiple personality disorder, the very quick switches, the fact the writers obviously did not actually research DID and just wanted a silly crazy character, and probably more i’m forgetting rn, are NOT issues to just ignore because of the good stuff. it’s definitely NOT good or super accurate representation by any means, but i don’t think it’s exactly super bad either. it’s iffy but has redeeming qualities to it.
another plus about mike system in ROTI, even though this isn’t really part of the portrayal of DID as a disorder, is that mike has a love interest that isn’t written as a joke. i feel like having mike in a romantic relationship is a BIG positive representation wise. it’s really important to me that even though zoey is confused and weirded out when she didn’t know what was going on, once she found out mike was part of a system she became more understanding and didn’t give up on him. being part of a system doesn’t mean you can’t have a partner, friends, etc and mike being in a wholesome healthy relationship is a nice breath of fresh air compared to other media portraying DID.
NOW. LETS ADDRESS MAL AND ALL STARS. GOOD LORD.
all stars has an issue with watering down characters and making poor plot/character choices in general, and in my opinion it’s the worst with mike system. ROTI had questionable at times but ok DID rep with mike system, which is why it’s so disappointing that AS took the “evil alter” route and whatever the hell the button thing was… bc they were SO close with having ok representation and then they threw it all away for an overdone and harmful stereotype. mike system in ROTI is a MASTERPIECE compared to whatever the hell was going on in AS.
even when you take into account that in a real life system, mal is most similar to the role of a persecutor (an alter who sabotages the body’s relationships and causes harm to the body/other alters as a way to “protect” everyone in their eyes (oops ! i was wrong. a persecutor isn’t always a protector, however they can take the role of a persecutor and protector which is where i got confused. mal is a both a persecutor and protector to me)) which makes SOME of his actions explainable TO AN EXTENT, it’s clear the writers didn’t have that intent and just wanted a spooky evil alter, which is really disappointing. along with the button issue, which is just…. so insane….
i choose to believe for my own sanity that the button was sort of an emergency temporary dormancy button and that chester fr just lied/didn’t know and made something up. but that obviously isn’t canon, and IN CANON the body’s trauma and serious disorder was literally gone because of the PRESS OF A BUTTON and it is absolutely ridiculous. and it’s portrayed as a GOOD THING.
systems are systems because it is the only way the body and brain can maintain stability and live after serious repeated trauma. in a real situation with a system, if there was somehow a way to get rid of alters in literal seconds, the consequences would be ABSOLUTELY DISASTROUS and unstable. obviously, integration and dormancy CAN be a good thing depending on the system, but it is a LOOONG and complicated process and watering it down to the press of a button in your brain is so inappropriate and insensitive. literally why did they do that. it’s just so disappointing to go from what mike system was in roti to what they became in all stars.
sorry u guys i am just passionate about this
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voltstone · 1 month
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ERICSON'S WALLFLOWER
or bpd as a twdg fandom essay, & violet's analysis
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[Mar.26-29.2024 | 27,991]
Throughout my time spent within the TWDG fandom—since late 2019, early 2020—, Violet as not merely a love interest but a character exists as the fandom’s staunch polarization. And the funny thing?
I get it. A lot.
Much of what I’ve read into this character has been extrapolated from my own experiences, and those experiences speak to an inherent, polarizing chaos. It’s something that’s quite honestly a purgatory to try and articulate—I have tried—, and another bane to hope that people will get it. At least, enough to not just sweep my words under the rug. This essay is ultimately a trial to see if I’ve done enough work with myself, both emotionally and in writing, to be able to explain this to those none the wiser, or to the some who feel the same things, but have yet to hear it spoken with absolute clarity.
Through a fandom essay, no less. Specifically about a video game character who grows on people—Louis promises so.
Borderline Personality Disorder.
Nobody really likes to talk about it. Too many times in my life, I’ve had people sweep it under the rug because it is not a pretty thing, in times where I was pleading for help; often, in presence of the wrong crowd, it feels like a target nailed to my back.
It’s intrenched within stigma. And what’s difficult about that is…, yeah. I get why. There’s no mystery to it.
…yet there is so much people do not understand because not talking about it is so much easier, and the joke is, talk therapy is quite literally BPD’s primary treatment.
And so let’s talk about it. Allow me to pull away the confusion this disorder brings, and lay it out—as best I can—in a more digestible manner, through a deconstruction of Violet. I’ll have a little fun with it. However, if this essay reads in a more…straightforward tone compared to the couple others I’ve written now, it should. I’ve attempted to write this in a more lighthearted language before, but it didn’t really get the message across well, I would slip to this anyway, so. Yeah. I will still be conversational, just less so.
With that, however, this is another long essay. I hope you enjoy. :)
[Given the subject matter & the inclusion of my own experiences, take heed. This discussion is sensitive. W/ my experiences, I assure you I'm fine. I speak from a place where I’ve worked through my experiences.]
[Also, to stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale: I reference Louis and one of your essays about him, hence the @. But this thing's real long and about Violet, and stuff. Lol.]
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[Briefly, but Exhaustively, to Clarify]
Before any discussion of BPD, then Violet’s deconstruction, a few things.
One. No, I’m not outright diagnosing Violet with BPD. She isn’t diagnosed in the game. I’ve not heard anything by Telltale or anyone associated remark BPD either. None of the schoolkids, for the matter, are diagnosed because it’s not that kind of story. The most we’re given is a narrative that explores their patterns in behavior, and then one…“diagnosis” with Willy. That being the, uh, chronic masturbation. (No, I did not think masturbation would be included in this discussion, but here we are. Thanks, you bug-eyed child.) Even then, however, that was likely a symptom of a larger issue with Willy.
Instead, I like this character. I see a lot of myself in this character, recognize the patterns she exhibits, and I’m hardly the first to associate Violet with BPD—since though she’s not diagnosed…, she is a little bit textbook. I’ve also seen a lot of the fandom misinterpret, preemptively judge, Violet for the things she does.
And I don’t mean the confusion and betrayal players feel should they save Louis over Violet. That reaction is normal. Yes, feel confused and betrayed. Because that’s the intention. What I take issue with, and part of why I’ve wanted to write this for a long while, is the…undertones beneath what is generally said. The opinions, too, that go along with it. All of which, ultimately, feed into the stigma that BPD is so intrenched within. The ignorance, and the refusal to understand both why and how.
So I do this through Violet because I adore TWDG, I’m in a TWDG mood, and, she is actually a phenomenal example to use for discussions around BPD. No, she’s not canonically diagnosed, but, it is better to explain a character by using a researched concept, just as much as it’s easier to explain said concept through a fictional example.
…and myself.
This essay will have a lot of commentary based around my experiences. A lot of this disorder’s stigmatization makes it difficult to find good information to understand what it does—specifically from the perspective of the borderline personality, not observers—, because…it’s just not the same as ADHD or depression, which have been big talking points within the recent years. I also have ADHD—runs in the family. That said, conversations in mental health has its fair share of stigma regardless, it’s just that BPD…does not help itself, largely due to the concepts I’ll be going over.
Also, I am very similar to Violet, down to how we dress, but also in personality. We’re not the same, but there’s enough where I feel like I can explain a lot of this character in relation to BPD. Because it’s a personality disorder. In similar personalities, the disorder will—more often than not—present itself the same way.
This does lead me to a third: as much as I’d like to say that this discussion will be the absolute, universal truth, the reality is no, this discussion will likely have blind-spots. It won’t be universal. For a myriad of reasons.
BPD is, again, a personality disorder. Its expression is entirely dependent on the personality, and the experiences established. So anyone who is not an indifferent/apathetic person, who is more extroverted and not the marginal recluse that I am, there will be aspects of this that won’t align. The rudimentary concepts may apply, but the expressions and emotional processings behind these concepts may not.
This also bleeds into the fact that BPD overlaps with many conditions, and traits of the disorder can be found elsewhere. Which, quite frankly, is fairly standard for most disorders, because it’s about the expression and amalgamation of the traits, not the traits themselves. So, as I discuss BPD, you’ll likely find yourself relating to certain points.
Do not take this to mean that you yourself have borderline.
Well, okay. You might. There’s nothing wrong with doing research, and to evaluate all of your resources. Keep in mind, however, there is a difference between one condition relating to another, and one BPD relating to a likewise diagnosis.
BPD overlaps with many conditions (like ADHD); it shares many traits in others.
The reasons for it includes how BPD is developed, where the development will be alongside other conditions—like, say, PTSD—, or other conditions may predispose the condition—ADHD—, or, or, both.
And then, some of this relatability is due to language. There are limitations in the words I choose, especially when this essay is intended for a wider audience. When I say, I go from 0 to 100, you may know precisely what I’m putting down, or, your 0 to 100 is my 0 to 10. And there will be that barrier in understanding because…we’re different people, with different experiences, living alongside different conditions.
Some of you reading will just never understand what it means to get whiplashed by your emotions at the drop of a dime, where you’re perfectly fine one minute, and then you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack the next because someone said something, and you don’t understand why it hurt you the way it did, but it did, and you’ve already lost your shit, but you don’t want to do anything, but you can’t trust that you won’t… All…with the guilt that it is happening again, and you should have known better, and it’s all your fault…
Yeah. It’s okay if you don’t understand what that’s like. And to be quite blunt, if you don’t, be grateful. BPD isn’t fun for anyone. There are slight blessings, but those are gravely overshadowed.
Given that I do expect a lot of people reading this won’t understand, this essay will be exhaustive. I don’t really want to cut corners, even though certain aspects of my experiences will be kept to myself, and not everything about this disorder can be related to a video game character.
I do want to give it its due. The drafts before fell into the trap of not articulating precisely what I wanted, with the transparency I needed.
…hence why it’s long, but with that, let’s start with understanding BPD at its core.
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[BPD, in Experience, as an Introduction]
So. Borderline Personality Disorder.
Boiled down, it is purely the complete lack of, or, the severe impairment of emotional regulation.
That’s it.
That is literally all it is. And in understanding that, it explains (in part) how and why many of you may relate to certain aspects throughout this essay—emotions, and the (dys)regulation thereof, are integral to each and every one of us.
However, BPD is distinct, and I will comb through the how and why in this section. It is quite simplistic when boiled down, but this synopsis implicates everything about a person.
It is also. Not. Bipolar Disorder.
(Yeah, let me just kick this out of the way.) 
Bipolar Disorder is about the brain chemistry, and is defined by manic and depressive swings.
Borderline Personality Disorder is a disorder of the personality. It’s systemic to the person. Could someone with BPD also have bipolar? Well, yes, which doesn’t help in the confusion, but to be the least bit informative, those instances often imply a specific BPD type (comorbid).
[Further resources will be linked at the end, for the BPD types, relationship with bipolar, and additional elements to come. For the sake of the essay, I won’t delve into this in-depth.]
This nuance—comorbid-BPD and bipolar—illustrates how complicated of a conversation BPD is. Again, it’s why this essay will be exhaustive, but also selective in what it covers.
Including, but not limited to, this kind of nuance.
To embark what a severe impairment/lack of emotional regulation means, it’s important first to establish the working definition of what emotions are—the definition, at least, which this essay utilizes.
Emotions are the reactionary senses of the body. Where sight, smell, touch, taste and hearing are the immediate feedback from the environment to the body, the emotions are the immediate responses to the stimuli, to prompt our actions thereafter.
Our relationship to our emotions is a very complicated one, because…we physically feel our emotions, which can be conflated with the feedback from our environment. Comprehension is also required to understand what, exactly, these emotions are signaling to us, because an environment isn’t just physical. Social, cultural, and psychological environments are included. 
If you ever wonder what, exactly, a dog with the intelligence of a 3-year-old actually means, it’s their comprehension level of their emotions. These dogs are feeling the same emotions as a 3-year-old, and a 30-year-old. But there’s a catch: dogs don’t do the whole language acquisition thing like we do. Language acquisition being the learning process we undergo in our youth, because we are wired to speak and derive meaning through vocal, then visual, patterns.
I say this because a lot of emotions are, physically, perceived the same way, but we use language to distinguish one from another because contexts do matter. And they matter a lot.
Like, what’s the difference between lust and common excitement? They both feel similar, don’t they? But, lust is specific to a defined context.
And in this way, language absolutely contributes to the complexity of emotions.
But ultimately, emotions are just there to tell you what comforts you, and what doesn’t. It establishes what kind of environment you feel safe within, or at risk; the gradient within that establishes what you prefer, what you can tolerate. So the places you go to. The people you surround yourself with. Your interests. Activities. How you want to present yourself. Your morals, and ambitions. Identity and sense of self.
All of it is prompted by emotion, and your comprehension of that—ultimately through language—establishes how you respond.
How we actually navigate this is through regulation. Or rather, the process of self-comprehension, where an individual has to evaluate a situation, their internal reaction to such stimuli (both in thought and feelings), and the appropriate behavioral response. Dysregulation, then, is where that process is faulty.
So as we mature into adulthood, and our learned behaviors are set in stone (more or less; old dog, new trick or something), we’ve ideally learned how to comprehend these emotions, how to use language to articulate them and relay them to others, and find what is comfortable and what isn’t.
People get in the way of themselves, however.
For some fucking reason, we think we’re so fucking smart because we can talk, and we got thumbs, and we, like, stand on two feet. Or if we don’t got two fucking feet, we can build a wheely chair to sit our asses down.
And? We like to convince ourselves that we know better than our emotions, to the point where they’re disregarded. Of course, social contexts, understanding how your actions may impact others—those are all nuances which, yes, our emotions may not respect, but we do.
In regards to when people refuse to acknowledge emotions for what they are…
Piece of advice, from someone with BPD, emotions run like rivers. You do not decide what that river’s water is, how much there will be, and when it will flood. What you can decide is what canals to dig to retroactively contain that river, when to do that, and to establish how to treat the different flooding waters. You will drown if you think you can just ignore them.
Because the funny thing about water? If you fall high enough, land the wrong way, you might as well have hit stone.
In this way, emotions are devastating, and the mind and body has many mechanisms to deploy should an individual be constantly bombarded, and there is a need to prioritize our primary senses—touch, smell, sight… To prioritize a survival.
Take DID, for instance, where often it’s the mind “divorcing” itself into several identities in order to protect and shield the host from further trauma. There are many, many disorders like this where the brain deploys its failsafe, but that failsafe comes at a price.
BPD is, effectively, what happens when one of these mechanisms deploy, but the cost cripples an integral function to the human experience. It cripples the capability to dig those canals, redirect those rivers, and it can even imply a blindness to what kind of water is flooding.
…in many respects, this implies that BPD is, inherently, a disorder rooted in other conditions, just set to the absolute extreme. But when I say “absolute extreme” to someone who has never experienced emotional turmoil, the wrong impression may be impressed. Again, much of what I say may relate to your own experiences, and it’s why I have to take great care in articulating precisely what I mean because…it can be easily misinterpreted. Everybody has had moments where they are not in control of what they feel, and they do things. However, while the instances may look the same, the mechanisms, patterns and history behind them…are not.
Hence why BPD and bipolar are so often confused, because at the height of those disorders, it can very well look the same. I have had manic episodes that look identical to someone in a bipolar episode within one moment. But the differences are the mechanisms, patterns, and history. For these two disorders, it’s what’s actually going on in the brain, what stimuli we’re actually reacting to, and then timeframe. Mania in bipolar can last months; in me, I plummet into mania for minutes, or hours, or days—a week at most. And I can rocket right back out of it, back to an indifference, or into some other extreme.
And those mechanisms, and patterns, and histories are what make BPD, well, BPD. 
We now get to how BPD happens. And though there is some debate, BPD is a developmental disorder. It’s created.
Through a number of factors. Genetics (like a family history), accompanying conditions (such as ADHD, autism, due to the predisposition to emotional dysregulation), past experiences of trauma, and, the environment.
And that’s the footnote version. Because this disorder, while there are strong patterns observed across diagnosed individuals, again has its nuances. Going into what causes BPD will lead you down a steep rabbit hole—in part because it’s dependent on the person, history, and environment, and in part because…, well, there is stigma, and there’s a lot of unknowns. Borderline, as a name, is not telling of what the disorder is. There’s a long misogynistic history to the disorder’s criteria, despite the fact that there’s a lot of men out there that have stunted their emotions, will fly off the handle when their egos are slightly bruised, call themselves alphas, are vehemently loyal to that alpha identity…
Hm.
That’s a discussion for another day. Point being, I cannot indulge this essay into every kind of way a person can land themselves with the disorder. It’s never ending. I have other priorities to indulge. Such as:
What kind of abuse is commonly attributed to BPD?
The answer? For such a volatile personality?
Neglect.
Funny, isn’t it? How neglect—the absence of—is what often causes BPD, of all things. Most would likely scoff, because our world has groomed the idea that the other kinds are worse, and are what creates monsters. Because it doesn’t make good tv, does it? Like the times where I was sat in time-out for…some reason or another, on a bench beside a chalkboard. Upwards to 10 hours of the day—which is a long time at three years old. That doesn’t make for interesting scenes, does it?
No. And because it doesn’t, and stories like their spectacle, media relies on the other kinds. To the point now where it’s necessary for our idled attention spans.
To be clear, this isn’t to demote abuse types outside of neglect, nor is it to insinuate that they cannot coexist within one circumstance. The fact of the matter is, different traumas with different people in different environments will lead to different conditions. There is no worth in proving to each other which trauma is worse or better, because it’s entirely dependent on the people and environment(s) involved.
What I will demote is the common, ignorant insinuation that neglect doesn’t destroy a person.
It’s why it is ironic, how BPD—an explosive thing—is often born from neglect.
How it does such a thing is…complicated. Lucky for this essay, I’ve lived it.
Within the first handful of years in my life, there were many things like sitting on that stupid bench in my room, for hours upon hours. My parents, at the time, were young themselves and fresh from college. My dad was in the military, so he had been deployed, leaving my mom alone with me, and…her BPD. I suspect postpartum made things worse.
Before you assume, it isn’t that she didn’t love me. Quite the opposite, but it was only through the divorce a few years later was she diagnosed. So, she didn’t have the resources for such a disorder at the time. Which made things worse, because part of treating BPD is being aware you have it.
The thing about these kinds of abuse is that…they come from the people you least want to admit, and for me, it had been my own mother.
And, the thing about neglect, especially mine, is that it’s hard to explain how no…, she was home. It wasn’t like she’d leave me like that. But, even so, I couldn’t tell you what the fuck she was doing when she wasn’t in the same room.
I was left to my own devices. I told myself stories with my stuffed animals to pass the time. I was often hungry too, and there are two accounts from family where, upon visiting, they saw this little toddler know how to work the baby-gate to the kitchen, and start to prepare food—sandwiches for me, and I’d pour food for the dog.
I seldom spoke, was borderline mute. Didn’t really converse until four. But I knew what people were saying before that. I did also pick-up behaviors from my dog as well; I would pant whenever I was happy, and whimper instead of cry.
By the tail-end, as I was getting into kindergarten, my brother was born, the divorce was in motion, and my dad would thankfully win full custody, and my mom, visitation.
You see, through those initial years, those mechanisms deployed.
I had to swallow down the instinct that the parent would be the one to nurture, and I had to find ways to feed myself, then my best friend and true guardian—the dog. Had to learn how to work things like a baby-gate. I also had to be vigilant of her, and know what mood she was in.
It’s these two things, working together, which utterly fractured me emotionally. The feeling of being hungry, truly hungry, is not something I wish for anyone. The realization that it’s not because you’re out of food—not until the separation began, and the weekends with my mom were marked by this hunger—, but because you don’t know how to get that food, and the bigger person is not getting the food, so you try to learn but you are still a small child… It’s even worse. It does something to you. Then, having to sacrifice your own emotional nourishment in order to keep an eye on an adult’s volatility is that final nail.
That was the first stage of my neglect. And it was bad. It was a really, really bad situation. My brother only lived with my mom for a couple years before Dad’s full custody. In that time, from when our mother was the only one to take care of us with my dad helpless in a different country, then to switching every week, he developed OCD tendencies, which are still present.
Twenty years later now, it’s been remarked that I was…kinda the best candidate to survive this out of not just my brother and I, but our cousins as well. And I agree. I’m naturally reserved, and even as a kid, I would push back against my mom. It would ignite her, but the fact that I was confrontation said enough. Meanwhile…, I do not know how the fuck my brother would be mentally if he’d been the one stuck alone with her for those three, four years. I don’t know what my dad would’ve come back to whenever he was allowed to be with his family.
And I would not trade places if given the chance. Because even if I’m a black sheep, my mechanisms allowed me to get away as well-adjusted as I could be.
But… Still. Beneath those remarks…, there is a misunderstanding. When my family says I was the best candidate, it’s because they look at me and see a person who isn’t sick. When I say I was, I mean…my brother would have been worse off.
Granted, now that I’m out of school, it’s slowly dawned on them that…yeah no. There is something wrong.
…as I aged through childhood, I didn’t quite understand what the costs of the mechanisms deployed were, but I knew there was something very, very wrong even back then. And I would tell my family. Every now and again, throughout years, I’d raise alarm because I realized I reminded myself of my mom.
Only to be told that I wasn’t my mother, and that I was overreacting. Told me that, “People like her don’t know there’s something wrong—that’s the disorder.”
Come a mere few years ago, and I am told about times where my mother, as an adult not long before having me, would break down because she didn’t want to be like my grandmother.
There was a family history. My mother knew it. However, she was also diagnosed through the divorce, because she couldn’t take care of my brother and I. Highly doubt admitting her BPD was the reason was because “she didn’t know there was something wrong.”
I was told there was nothing wrong. Meanwhile, I would do things I didn’t understand, and experience the world in a way people around me didn’t, …as it turns out.
For one, which is still true now, I cannot cook for myself, in a kitchen, when it’s dark out. I also cannot cook when someone else is nearby, or already in the kitchen itself. I will wait, because should I cook in those times, there’s a feeling. And I can’t stand it. The feeling of—
Oh. No, the feeling isn’t being watched. 
It’s the feeling where someone may be lurking, and I’m about to get caught. This is likely a remnant of times when I was very, very young, and I tried to feed myself, and I…was caught. And she blew up.
There are other behaviors like that, specific to me. Because the body remembers before you yourself.
In the years after my mom, I found myself in the second phase of neglect—the one, I argue, is what actually creates BPD.
And again. For another time. It came from the people I least want to admit.
The neglect, the denial, in every alarm I raised did something to me. Another thing, though given my experiences, it also did feel similar to the first phase. My family loves me, I understand, and I get why they denied. Because they knew about what was happening to me, then my brother, but circumstances had them trapped in watching from afar. A sort of…they didn’t get to me in time. 
My mom was also a nightmare for my dad. So…, to see that resemblance is not something anybody wants to admit.
But still. I was in therapy (to socialize me), but that didn’t last forever, and people kinda just shrugged and thought it was good. The therapy did its job. Without noticing what was happening.
The mechanism that deployed was still there, never to be acknowledged. So it festered. It scarred my trauma over, and now, there’s a great blemish on my mental health. 
And that blemish has a name, and it’s BPD—the disorder cultivated by the neglect of an aftermath. Where trauma struck, and there was no chance given to process it effectively, and to heal.
All of the nuances I’ve discussed before remain to be true. From what I understand, however, is that the primary reason why Borderline Personality Disorder can look so differently on so, so many people, through a range of traumas is…it’s consequence. BPD has its characteristics, the ones that distinguish, because ignoring the recovery after significant trauma presents itself the same.
Now, I’ll indulge in one of these characteristics.
It wasn’t until recent, as I embarked my adulthood, where I realized the core mechanism I had inadvertently deployed, the one that came with a price:
Alexithymia.
Or, emotional blindness.
This in itself is not considered a disorder, largely because (and for the sake of this essay) it is an associated symptom, a mechanism, of many, many conditions. Depression, PTSD, eating disorders, ADHD and autism (again), schizophrenia, and I can go on, and on, and on.
BPD is included, of course.
There are many ways to be blind. Take visual blindness, where it can be an absolute void, a severe impairment, some colors recognized but not all, or, there’s too much feedback at once, and the light becomes illegible. Being devoid of emotions, or apathetic, is the standard; some people may feel a perpetual onslaught that cannot be deciphered, and others could find themselves in between.
Whatever it may be, alexithymia is characterized as the impaired awareness, explicit identification, and/or articulation of one’s feelings. So, as long as the shoe fits, and the person can’t decipher, convey/express their emotions… That shoe’s not on the wrong foot.
In my case, I fall into the standard.
When I was young, I likely stifled my own emotions in exchange for vigilance. It never left, however. If anything, it got worse the more I neglected recovery. Now, I don’t feel much, day to day. I know I experience emotion, and react to my environment, and have thoughts… Yet, the environment is almost dreamlike. It doesn’t quite register, and the people in my life feel like figments unless I’m right there with them, in the same room. I’m indifferent to most. Memories are a lot like this too—not like I don’t remember anything at all, but in the moment, I kinda just exist. I can think and plan about the future too, but it’s that I’ve realized I have to, not that I feel any kind of urgency.
Because I don’t care. At all.
Or, I do, but there’s nothing in here to tell me that. Because my body, also, is quite null. It doesn’t tell me what I feel. I couldn’t tell you in the moment, so I’ll usually resort to, “I’m fine.” And inside this head of mine? Not much. Kinda like static—the tv is on, there’s a lot of channels going, but it’s just…not there. Beyond static.
So as I write this, and write any of my works, it's less of spilling all the crazy thoughts inside my head, organizing them, and more of me spilling an open wound I don't know how to close, figured I don't really want to close it, because I kinda just like watching it spill across the page and see what I'm thinking, and what I can create.
To be quite honest, being a writer in this way does legitimately feel like I'm a blind sculptor.
If all this sounds like a depressing experience, I'm fine. Genuinely. I am. This is actually quite comfortable for me, and it's also me at my most rational. Plus, it helps that I've developed a fairly strong coping means—this writing thing—that serves to be a therapy in emotional comprehension. Another mechanism, really, that is derivative of what I did as a toddler.
I'm also a hermit. I'm content with being reclusive, and to myself.
And again, I’ve already processed all of this. I wouldn’t be writing this essay otherwise.
So how does alexithymia relate to BPD? In what way is being apathetic mean I can fly off the handle?
What does alexithymia mean for an episode?
BPD episodes vary. Depends on the person, and a trigger, and the environment.
In the traditional a switch is flipped, and the person just loses it, it’s via said trigger. A legitimate trigger, not whatever TikTok is blabbering. Trigger as in to a gun, and it just takes one pull, and you’ve been set off.
When this happens—BPD or not—, it effectively shuts down the reasoning part of the individual’s brain, and sends them straight into fight-or-flight. They are in a very primal state, and will react on emotion alone.
In BPD, our brains are wired to do that in (potentially) a very, very short period of time. Can be literally a blink and you miss it. There’s a look in the eye. If you know, you know. It happens enough times to establish a history of this within the person. Forces people to walk on egg shells to avoid this. Because it’s scary. It can get scary.
Here’s the thing:
It’s scary for us too.
Not too long ago, a lot of changes happened in my life, and on my birthday, I was driving, and I wanted, so badly, to just swerve off the road and down into the woodland—the ditches would’ve been steep enough. Woke up that day wanting to. Didn’t understand why, but I also wasn’t asking because that reasoning part of my brain was switched off. That day, the episode wasn’t explosive, but had I brushed upon a trigger, or someone accidentally said/did something, it would likely have been the case.
I was in an agitated state—straying down the line between stability, and not, where at first glance I’m fine, but…the more you look, there’s something quite wrong.
I was also craving McDonald’s. So I went. I sat myself down on my own, and ate my food.
And suddenly… Literally nothing was wrong. Well, no. I was still mildly stressed from moving from college, but, nothing was wrong that day. I was just hungry, not suicidal. Yet…it felt like I was. Had me believe it for a hot minute.
Had I not had the burger, fries, and McFlurry… I don’t know. Had I had access to something swifter than a car. I really don’t know.
This is what the disorder does. This is why it’s scary for the people around, and terrifying for us.
And in those like me, where everything is null, until it isn’t, it’s terrifying in a specific way. Goes from 0 to 100. Can get to the point where I have pain shooting down my arms, like I’m about to have a heart attack, because everything comes down upon me at once. Or, in episodes like the one I just mentioned, it creeps up on you—that agitated state. To the point where I don’t realize I’m in it, just that I’m suddenly hyperaware of everything, and there is something wrong, but I am not asking why because I can’t. So I just do. Quite blindly. And eat because driving off a road is too much effort.
So it gets scary. In those like me, where emotions just aren’t registering, I can’t tell you what I’m feeling until after the fact, or after considerable thought. Which is also fucking difficult because I don’t rightly know what I’m thinking. But given the situation, that could be too fucking late. And if the situation has me alone, to myself?
With BPD, there are triggers we know to avoid because they are related to traumas. There are things that wouldn’t normally trigger, but somehow did because they were the straw that broke the camel’s back, and we didn’t even know we had a fucking camel. And then. Sometimes. We don’t even know what the fuck the trigger was, and will never know.
The last is very common when we’re unaware of our BPD, but…it also just happens sometimes as well. The world’s big. The shit life yeets is limitless. I dunno.
There’s also a humiliation to an episode. I don't know what's going on. I can't reason like I should, and I don't want you to look at me. I want you gone, especially if I have deemed you the trigger. I want to be left alone. Things will escalate, and escalate, and escalate until that is achieved.
And, there’s a guilt as well. Especially when you know you have BPD, because by then, you should know better, but apparently, you don’t.
This all sounds quite helpless, I realize. However, there’s a reason why talk therapy is the central form of treatment for BPD. Knowing how to communicate does wonders. For those with borderline, learning how to comprehend and articulate emotions, and knowing what triggers to avoid, is a long, arduous process, but it helps. In regulating emotions as best we can, and in explaining to people beforehand what to do—or after the fact, where it’s to explain it wasn’t their fault.
And for those without BPD? Being able to recognize the warning signs on a person is detrimental. Because, believe it or not, there are warning signs. Sometimes they could be the split-second before, however, if there is someone in an agitated state, knowing what that looks like means you know how to avoid an episode, and it gives room to be able to console the person beforehand.
As said. There’s a look in the eyes. I know, because that’s what I spent my first few years of life figuring out.
The arduous process also unveils the…ambiguous sides to BPD. The stuff that people don’t really talk as much, whenever BPD is brought to the table at all. 
For this essay, I will spare a glance at identity. No, identity doesn’t have much to do with Violet. However, acknowledging this ambiguous side to BPD establishes just how far this disorder goes, and it tends to crop up when least expected. (It will do so in this essay.)
A disorder of emotional regulation implicates everything, and sense of self is guided by emotion.
So what happens to one’s identity if there’s no guide to that sense of self?
It’s bleak. Or there’s a turbulence. Either way, it’s hard to decipher what exactly you want out of life, and for yourself, because there’s just no good way to tell what makes you comfortable, and what doesn’t. But you still strive to find stability. So you mirror those around you. To blend in and be accepted. By chance, it can extend beyond humans; me mimicking my dog—panting when I’m happy, whimpering when I’m sad—, it was probably so that my dog would console me when my mom wasn’t around. Because my dog (a lovely boxer) was very attuned to me.
The conversation with identity is…just another complicated thing. And this one is harder to articulate, in part because it’s not really discussed by people who don’t have the disorder. As opposed to the mood swings.
All that to say, when it comes to this analysis, the truth is, there’s not a feasible way to explore the nuances such as Violet’s relationship with identity, or alexithymia, because they aren’t spoken aloud to give us enough insight, and by proxy, these aspects of BPD are not what Violet represents. But acknowledging such nuances provides a better understanding in what this disorder means.
Regardless, Violet is a representation BPD in relationships, and the dysfunction of those bonds. How it’s exacerbated within an apocalypse, and then the self-treatment of.
Or, or, Violet has…a tendency to be a wallflower. More or less.
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[Ericson's Resident Wallflower]
The Final Season (TFS) is particular when it comes to Violet. It will be evident throughout this essay, the care that the game and the team behind it devoted for her. From the dialogue to her actions, Telltale did well in illustrating this character. I will argue, however, that the quiet intensity in nuance laid throughout is what evoked the need to write this essay.
Because Violet represents something quite thoughtful in regards to mental health—the reality of what a disorder is, and what it can do.
So TFS is particular, and it begins with her introduction, where there’s this need to recontextualize her. Not once, but twice.
Clementine is first introduced to her silently. She follows Marlon out into the courtyard, and Tenn whistles at the wall.
Because on the school’s wall is a girl, and she rises from her lounging at its height. There’s a glance shared between Clementine and Violet, before Clementine speaks more with Marlon. After that, another glance, where Violet turns away—not before the player can spy a bit of intrigue in her face.
Clementine reunites with A.J, meets Louis, before a recontextualization, where Violet (she does talk) snarks about the crashed car, and the walkers that the accident brought to their door.
And it takes Louis to pry a proper greeting from her:
“Ahem. ‘Hello, Clementine. I’m Violet. Nice to meet you.’” “What he said.” [. . .] “Don’t mind Violet. She, uh…, grows on you. I promise.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | School Gate]
Good job, Violet. Way to be sociable.
Sarcasm aside, yeah, it’s a little rough. Violet is overall dismissive of Clementine, save for the comments. To the point where she has Louis introduce her ass.
Now Louis…is a quiet presence throughout this essay, though he is all the more integral to her character. There will be fewer words compared to other relationships, but those words signify a unique dichotomy between him and Violet, one that the other schoolkids—Minnie and Brody included—do not have with her.
And it starts immediately. That dichotomy. Louis is the one who tells Clementine Violet’s name. He is the one who formally introduces the two. Because he knows how Violet is. Ensures to lingers so that he tell Clementine—promise her—how Violet is worth sticking around for.
It’s just that the girl is troubled. So.
Thereafter, his banter is teasing, and Violet is still sardonic. But, she ultimately does play along. In her own way. When in the woods, and the schoolkids are focused on clearing walkers to have Aasim, Brody and Mitch make a safe return, Louis strikes the conversation, Violet scoffs, but can relent depending on the player’s dialogue choice(s). It is important to note that Violet scoffing doesn’t necessarily equate to her being mean; it’s clear through the card game later that…this is her way of banter, with Louis especially. She takes jabs at him. He retorts. Does the same. It’s on equal footing.
The next true recontextualization presents a taste of what Louis means. After clearing the walkers, and A.J socks Marlon, Clementine is left to acquaint herself with the other schoolkids. Mitch and Willy, Omar and Louis, Aasim, Ruby (where A.J apologizes for biting), and Tenn, right alongside Violet.
And those two are tending to the school’s makeshift cemetery. It brief, but Violet explains they lost the twins, and for the hour, they’re paying their respects.
From the wall, then the gate, then here, at their burial ground, it’s as though TFS wanted to scatter Violet’s introduction across her nuances. First it’s a silent couple glances, with her overlooking the courtyard at a perch, then it’s her being a little prick at the gate, a lightheartedness when mowing down walkers, and then it’s…this, a staunch vulnerability to and for her people. In context to the graves, her people being the twins.
All the moments that night thereafter feed into this. The card game goes back to an apathetic, yet also teasing, demeanor. Her shared conversation with Clementine, as A.J becomes an artist draws, it’s again a vulnerability, this time rattled by the fact that the dorm was once the twins’.
Throughout this first episode, Violet’s standing with the rest is shown to be quite reflective of this almost inconsistent preamble.
Marlon is the most succinct when he remarks, in the rain, after Clementine chooses to ask for Violet’s support:
“Violet being difficult. Why am I not surprised?” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Courtyard]
It’s such a blunt statement, intended to dig at her.
Though, there is truth to it. Violet’s introduction overall says as much. She admits it herself when in the dorm, and she finds that Clementine is housed where the twins were.
“Honestly, I just miss having someone around to talk to. [. . .] And I’m not, exactly, like…a people person. You know? I know I sometimes have a habit… Have a habit of being a little bit too harsh.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]
Violet is not sociable, so naturally, she struggles to find someone to talk to. But, she is also sardonic—that much we got from the gate, even if it was followed by Louis’ banter which she reciprocates. 
But ultimately, it’s Brody who gives the best context to Violet, and really voices what Louis is getting at.
When Clementine goes fishing, Brody begins a conversation, and within that, she can reveal based off the prompts:
[She’s…intense.] “She’s always been a little bit like that. But after the twins died, she really closed up.” [It wasn’t your fault.] “Still, I was the one that had to break the news to her. And ever since I did, she’s become distant.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]
There’s two key things here, starting with the unsociability that Violet’s demeanor and Marlon’s slight reference.
Then, the revelation that Violet has closed herself off. She’s become distant within the past year.
…it implies that the Violet first introduced to us is not truly Violet, in a sense. It presents to the player thatmuch of her arc with Clementine will be about uncovering her, and really bringing Violet from this depressive spiral. Romantically or platonically so. And these lines are intended to both explain the character, and to incite enough intrigue for the player to follow Violet down her route. 
But it’s rather unfortunate that so much of this character is hidden away from the start, because there's the chance that people glance over her, take this initial Violet as Violet, and decide to spend more time with Louis and follow down his route. Because, for the sake of this essay, it's damn near impossible to really appreciate this character when you don't go with her route.
Same can be said for Louis, of course. But, respectfully...
It ain't about him. So. Moving on.
Playing leader.
When Marlon is shot, Violet immediately jumps into action to protect Clementine and A.J from getting jumped by the rest, and she assumes the leadership role. Regardless of player choice. There is an curious point with her being a leader, though that will be set aside to explore later.
Instead, I’ll side-step, and bring about a piece of conversation upon Clementine and A.J’s return. In this, we gather a very telling side of Violet, one that speaks volumes to her character.
[Clementine] “You’re sitting in Marlon’s chair, aren’t you? You’re their leader now. They’ll listen to you.” [Violet] “They don’t, though. They only listen when they want to.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Office]
Again, we’re side-stepping from the playing leader thing. Violet says that they don’t listen to her—says it like it wasn’t a really a surprise, just a point of frustration. Because, of course, Violet’s difficult. The last leader said so. But also, none of them have stepped up to fill that role. They take issue with her, but none of the schoolkids have really challenged her to take the mantel for themselves.
The silent nuance here is…why is it that she’s the leader? Violet made it seem like she really didn’t want to be at the boarding school—what with the contention between most, then the fact that she’s still in mourning. Tenn appeared like he was the only one keeping her there, but by stepping up in this way, not necessarily.
His presence and her need to protect him is a huge factor. Absolutely. Just not the only one.
We return again to Louis, the one schoolkid with the shared dichotomy. He is the other love interest. Him and Violet are often on opposite sides—especially in regards to everything Marlon.
And yet…, the way they speak about each other when one is taken away says everything about such a dichotomy.
To start, we’ll look at Louis:
“I know I’m always teasing her. Trying to get her to do that one eye roll she does—you know the one. Where it’s like, ‘you’re such a dumbass,’ she has to do a full-body eye roll. I do it because, when I actually do manage to make her laugh, it’s worth it. If I needed her, she’d be there. Meat cleaver in hand, ready to chop someone in half if it meant protecting me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]
He brings context as to why their banter is so dogged to tease. Louis does it because it’s reciprocated once he gets under his skin, and she retorts back with the signature full-body eye roll, but also, because he’s striving to reach another side of her, one where she laughs.
Because Louis is a big entertainer. He craves to draw that out from people, so when he has someone like Violet where it’s not easy to do that, it means that much more when she does, because it tells Louis how despite everything, she is there, listening.
Then there’s Violet, and her words for him:
“You know, when I first got here, I hated him. He was so…much. You know? He walks into a room, and it’s like, ‘Look at me! Watch me perform!’ It’s so stupid. But then I realized, under all that, he… He really cares about people, and he doesn’t just feel it, he says it. He’ll tell you every goddamn day how much you mean to him. Shit, he’ll probably sing about it. [. . .] We’ve got to get him back.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]
She nods to Louis being this big entertainer. Says that she hated it, and that it’s stupid. And yet, Violet thinks fondly of how genuine of a guy he is.
And between these two quotes, there’s a mastery in storytelling, because there’s an active dialogue between Louis and Violet. Doesn’t matter if one is on the boat, and they’re not. Their words parallel. Had they been in the room together, this would’ve been a back-and-forth.
Louis says that he teases her. Tries to get underneath her skin. Violet says that hated it, and hated him, for his antics. Yet, she then admits that…there’s a genuine nature there, because Louis does care, and he will say and sing it so. That genuine nature is the fact that he just really wants Violet to laugh, and to find that side of her.
Because Violet’s his friend. He values Violet as his protector, because Louis knows that she will be there whenever he desperately needed her.
And Louis is Violet’s friend. Which is why, without a word from Clementine, she states, firmly, that they need to get Louis back. Because in that hour, he was in peril, and he desperately needed Violet’s cleaver at hand.
It’s a tragedy, really, for both. When the other is taken, the one thing that each praise of the other is what’s stolen. For Louis, his knight is blinded; he has to be the one to protect her. For Violet, a comfort goes mute; she can sing in his place.
After spending a few moments with Clementine in the dorm, there’s Ruby’s hootenanny, and through that hootenanny, Violet can tell Clementine what brought her to Ericson’s:
“I spent a lot of time at my grandma’s house growing up, what with my dad being a drunk and my mom working three jobs. But after my grandpa died, Grandma just kinda…shut down. Spent all day and night rocking in her little chair in the den. I’d sit there at her feet as we both watched tv, mostly cartoons, since she never seemed to care. Sometimes I could hear her crying, but I didn’t look back. I’d just feel really weird and turn up the volume, you know? “Anyway, one day she left the den and came back with another chair, and a .22 rifle. Set the rifle butt on top of that chair, holding the barrel back to her chest. So, you know…, she had trouble reaching the trigger this way, but she must have known it would happen… Because she took out this really tacky wooden backscratcher—the real long kind with the one end shaped like a hand—and used that to push the trigger in. So…yeah. Bang, right? Her body folded up and just…kept rocking. “My mom came to get me five hours later. I hadn’t moved. She asked why I didn’t call the police or an ambulance or anything. I just shrugged and told her it wasn’t like Grandma was going anywhere…, and besides, I just wanted to finish my cartoons. She shipped me off to Ericson the next day. I was eleven.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Piano Room]
Through all of what Violet tells Clementine, there is still that flare to make the story more interesting for, you know, a video game. It’s a violent kind of neglect she shares.
But it is neglect all the same.
Violet was born to an alcoholic and a mom who stretched herself thin to compensate, yet even so, she later can admit that their home was a trailer—so the income of three jobs, all her time spent away from her mom, wasn’t enough. Perhaps there were financial troubles. The money might’ve been all drained away by cans of beer, or bottles. Violet did have an escape through her grandparents, though that didn’t last, and she was trapped to the same neglect. This time, with a better house. Probably.
Until her grandmother went and shot herself.
…with Violet in the room. Right behind the child.
And? There was no consolation; she was sent straight to Ericson’s, where the apocalypse then struck, the adults left, and Violet…was the difficult one, designated as this wallflower, or buzzkill. There were the twins, Minnie especially. Yet, even then… That relationship likely wasn’t reciprocated.
The flare that TFS adds to why Violet found her place in troubled youth—the violence, which could’ve dashed the screen she watched for those five hours—, it hides much of what went wrong with her, but simultaneously, it defines the gravity of her childhood.
It describes a mechanism of hers. One undoubtedly developed from her times alone with a drunk, whenever her grandparents and mother weren’t there. A sense of apathy, and with it, a broken moral compass. To not mind yourself, and not get in the way. To let it happen, and just get it over with, in whatever way that could imply.
And, with the sheer gravity, it begs the question…, how far did that neglect go? All of the abuse, if it wasn’t the only kind. Children aren’t born to sit in one place for hours, with fresh gore rocking in a chair behind.
The question wasn’t answered, of course. She was sent away instead. Then there were the adults. And then, other schoolkids. Violet isn’t…a people person, you know, so it’s only natural for her to be the difficult one as Marlon says.
Still, however, with Clementine as they watch the stars together, Violet denotes for the bird constellation,
“A bird is free. It could go anywhere it wanted to. Up and up and up, and never come back. Go south, east, west, doesn’t matter. You could fly straight into a sunset. And see where it ends.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]
And to that,
[Clementine] “You wish it was you, don’t you?” [Violet] “Sometimes, when it all feels so heavy down here, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be weightless.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]
Violet has struggled to belong, and yet, she remains. Yes, there’s the apocalypse. However, in all the years at the school, she could have left just as well. There’s a version of her, lost in development, where Violet does leave had she not been saved.
So why didn’t she?
The answer to that, quite simply, is one Louis may admit to Clementine, should that version keep his tongue, and the silent nuance behind her playing leader:
Violet is too loyal to her people to leave.
It’s why Louis teases her, to try and find that laugh, and why he knows that if he needs her, she will be there to protect him. Violently, with a meat cleaver.
It’s why she takes charge, because Violet knows none of the others wanted to, but they needed someone to lead. Whether or not they appreciated that it was her.
And, it’s why she acts without thought to stand her ground against Marlon. If she’s asked, the camera doesn’t leave her because it is no surprise that she will stand beside Clementine, as opposed to Louis, where he decides with uncertainty, and the camera has him shuffle to frame; for Violet, the change in her face is immediate. The camera doesn’t have the time to idle in tension. What Louis says is dead-on:
“If I needed her, she’d be there. Meat cleaver in hand, ready to chop someone in half if it meant protecting me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]
Even if she isn’t asked, Violet will then stand her ground once Marlon is shot. She vouches for the outsiders, in the name of reason, and for the twins and Brody.
She doesn’t think when Clementine is in danger—didn’t matter that her and A.J are just exiled. Violet will do as told, trust Clementine—to shoot, or to run.
Takes the helm after Marlon. Backs Clementine every step of the way.
Cannot let Minnie go until she has to, and Violet has seen that the person she clung after is gone.
Violet is too loyal to her people to leave, for her loyalty unbridled.
It’s her strongest quality. It is, also, what marks Violet with borderline.
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[Emotional Anchorage]
We slip back to describe BPD at large, beyond this essay and character. However, everything of this section has its place with Violet.
And it begins with emotional anchorage.
Emotional anchors are not inherent to BPD. It’s not unique to the disorder because, instead, I’d argue it is a universal experience. These anchors are anything which triggers an emotional response. These can be specific objects—like an old stuffed bear, a photograph, a house—, or stimuli—like a scent, a song. Tangible things like these are indicative of our nature. Humans like things. We like to collect, and tinker, and destroy. It helps if it’s shiny. It really helps when there’s fire or light involved.
Here's another thing about anchors:
They can be people.
They commonly are. It’s how we distinguish strangers from significant relationships—friends, family, partners. Anchorage is present despite the nuances between friends (just a friend vs BFF), and family (siblings vs parents vs offspring). And, partners—emotional anchorage explains how queerplatonic relationships come to be, because the fundamental element of a partner (being an emotional anchor) is present, it’s just the romantic and/or sexual implications are ambiguous.
Emotional anchoring is the process in establishing the anchor, leaving anchorage as this essay’s way to articulate the concept itself.
Borderline Personality Disorder will naturally encourage these attachments.
Within the community, BPD has a term: favorite person (or FP). It is as it reads. There is a designated favorite for us, and this favorite person can be a friend, a family member, or a partner—anybody, really. With FP, we begin to fall down the well in emotional anchoring as it pertains to the disorder.
Because, ultimately, a FP is either the strongest, or the only, emotional anchor an individual with BPD has. (For the sake of this essay, I will replace FP with primary/prime emotional anchor going forth, to be more consistent in word choice.) And the anchoring of this person is generally not intended. It just happens, where there’s a strike of intrigue, and everything follows thereafter.
The moment I anchor a person, it is a stark change from the indifference/apathy I display to I want to spend all my time with you, and I will literally die for you without a second thought. I will remember everything you value better than I remember my own, and I will present those nice things to you, at every opportunity. Tell me your favorite color once, and I will remember it for decades to come. Tell me to break my nose, and I may very well do it on the spot.
Which. Yes. Is intense.
Understanding the disorder behind it, however, allows me to take the precautions to…warn people beforehand. And to tell them upfront, if ever I am encroaching on boundaries, just say knock it the fuck off, Volt. In exchange…, I don’t take it personally. Because, uh, yeah. I can get intense. I understand. I may feel a type of way in the moment where boundaries are made, but that’s the BPD talking in my ear.
But also, I know I value someone being upfront with me more than a passive rejection. Frustration is what sets me off—the not knowing why—, not the rejection in itself. Because if I don’t know why, that’s how I interpret things as abandonment.
I have been rejected many times in life by people I’ve deemed emotional anchors. And it stung. A lot. Far beyond what I could ever articulate, but if I had to try, they are wounds carved to the bone, or with one, where my heart was quite utterly eviscerated.
There’s a deeper conversation there, with an anchor changing before my eyes. And, yes, it’s ultimately this which the essay will discuss in great detail. Through Violet.
Yet, before that, emotional anchorage is one of the few things that borderline has the chance to gift a person, because it’s not all bad. If you’re like me—where everything is null, and blurry, and static—, having a person suddenly there to awaken my body to speak, sharpen the world, and bring chaos inside my head… It’s a lot. It’s demonstrably a devastating thing, but in a very raw and beautiful way.
Demiromanticism, no doubt, is a reflection of how I express BPD. So to realize my demi ass has feelings, whenever it happens, is nice. …it also means I then have to determine whether it’s that, or a crush. And there is a difference between genuine feelings and a crush, and yeah, I prefer one over the other.
But. (And this can be platonic or romantic.) Having someone be that anchor grounds me, and while the relationship will have turbulence—because the boat I sail is on a river I can’t build canals for—, there brings such a confusing clarity to the world. I have a purpose where I didn’t think I did before.
It’s a high. A borderline addiction.
To not a thing, not a habit, but a person.
When it’s healthy, it’s everything, and I can brave all storms. When it’s not, it’s obsession and mania, it’s my boat trapped in a whirlpool with the anchor at the center of it all; I may break away, violently, or I will sink, and it will be the death of me.
…and when there’s no anchor there at all, I and my boat are to the whim of the river—because there are no canals, I have to rely on my boat to guide me and find an anchor. This can be where people turn to destructive behaviors. Substance abuse. Eating disorders. Everything alike.
Why though?
Why is it this way? Why do people like me sink their teeth and set anchorage like this?
This is where identity creeps its way back.
Because though anybody can develop emotional attachments, to the point of anchorage, BPD again does this to an absolute extreme. My personal anecdote may speak to it without debate. Understanding how identity gets itself involved further speaks to that extreme. BPD isn’t necessarily about the traits themselves, right? So rather, it’s how they manifest, and fester, and the mechanisms behind it all.
With identity, it hinges on what you find comfortable, and what you don’t. It’s guided by your feelings on things, and your comprehensive response thereafter. Passions turn into aspirations. Self-perception feeds into expression. And on and on.
So, if someone does not have a stable sense of self, there is a disturbance in identity. There’s no coherence to the person. Few consistencies, if any at all.
The identity is as stable as your regulation of emotions allow, and if it’s dysregulated, so will your identity.
A broken sense of self fractures a person. So we scour for stability. We do so in people. But with that broken sense, it’s easier to just swap out characteristics and emulate the environment, should there be a promise of stability. When this happens, it can be recognized as masking—because, debatably, it is—, but it can also go so far that people confuse this borderline trait with something like DID.
To those none the wiser, yeah, it might as well be DID. Because, like…, they just change so quickly. And if it’s a matter of mirroring different people, it can also imply that the BPD encourages the person to alter their personality depending on who they’re with at the time. Which. Yes. Has the capacity to resemble switching between split personalities from an observer’s perspective.
However. I have outlined (in quite the broad stroke) what DID is: a split in identities, in order to protect and shield the individual from further trauma. It’s dissociative in nature, where the distinct, established personalities will operate the individual at different times—given the nuances which come with DID.
BPD does come with dissociation as well—my personal experience with how I live day to day is indicative of, for simplicity, derealization and depersonalization. However, it’s not a split. What’s happening is this one identity does not have a stable, set personality. With the incapability to regulate emotions, it indicates a level of alexithymia. So how are we supposed to understand what we want, and don’t want, in everything from interests to moral standing? Things that a personality is grown from?
This copycat behavior is in itself a mechanism that BPD deploys. It’s kinda masking, not to purely to hide from and integrate into social norms, but also to find a sense of self through a very, very desperate act of scavenging.
In BPD, the best candidates to copy are the people who make us feel good—get a high from—, and that we want to be around, and whom we fixate upon—to a manic point: 
Those emotional anchors.
As we go back to Violet, keep this in mind. Again, no, there’s no feasible way to remark for certain what her relationship with identity is like, so the implications that emotional anchoring has on identity can’t really be applied. But the intensity—the level of fixation—can.
Because Violet struggles in her bonds with other people. There’s an idealization present to those bonds, and a devaluation. Both this good and bad, the highs and lows, are via anchorages.
So we’ll start with Minnie.
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[Emotional Anchorage: An Obsessive Good Memory]
“Sophie was a good friend. And Minnie… Uh… We were close, me and her.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]
When we meet Violet, amongst her introductions, Clementine learns about the twins from the two who still tend to their graves—Violet, and Tennessee. Not long after, there’s a card game, and not long after that, Violet finds Clementine and A.J in their dorm.
The one which was home to the twins.
“Huh. I see you’re, um…, settling in.” “Yeah. Is that okay?” “Sure. I guess. I always liked this room. Sophie had, like, paintings and shit on the walls. Lots of color. And Minerva…, she was really musical. [. . .] She had the most amazing voice. Real bluesy. [. . .] That was a long time ago. After they… Afterwards, Brody and Tenn took down all the paintings. And that was the end of it. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. It’s not a good memory. Guess I just lost my train of thought.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]
The way she speaks of Minnie, there’s an adoration, and a nostalgia made bitter by the perceived tragedy.
Of course, those twins (…okay, well—) aren’t dead, they were traded. So even though Violet has yet to see Minnie, she is now a presence to her mind that isn’t nearly as bitter. She focuses on getting the school prepared for a fight, alongside Clementine, but through it all, yeah, Minnie is still there.
And when looking at the stars with Clementine, if Clementine remains quiet for the fish constellation, Violet comments,
“Bright, pretty, good with other people. Always moving, tons of energy. Sounds like anyone we know? The energy one is easy. Good with people, not so much. [. . .] Y’know, it… Well, maybe this is weird to bring up, but it reminds me of Minnie.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]
Minnie is a big part of her, despite their time and distance from each other. They grew up together. They got closer.
Another thing:
Violet never says girlfriend.
The only time where it’s “proclaimed” by the season that Minnie and Violet were girlfriends is through Clementine, where whenever A.J sees the carving in the fishing cabin’s wall, she can say,
“It means they were a couple. [. . .] Violet was Minnie’s girlfriend.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]
Is it fair to assume that? Yeah. That’s…what carving a heart or potato with initials is supposed to symbolize.
But like.
Let’s be for real. What the ✨fuck✨ does Clementine know? Sure, she’s somehow not concussed after hauling ass in the sky, with a car. But she doesn’t know these people. Point blank.
We don’t know when this heart was carved. Just that it’s V + M (suggesting Violet did it, given the order), it’s out of the way from the school and in the fishing cabin, and it’s just shy from a bed (and alcohol).
Again, Violet herself never says girlfriend.
The heart could’ve been carved with Minnie there with her. Or, Violet was deep in mourning, and decided to brand the cabin—likely because it holds a significant memory.
…and Imma be honest, the cabin has a bed, and it is covered in bottles. Everywhere on the table. Some scattered around. So I will give the benefit of the doubt. Considering the…subtext around the fishing cabin, doing some quick math with my gamer instincts, yeah, if you leave youth (troubled or otherwise) alone, you might get Lord of the Flies, or…exploration. I guess.
It is clear that there was something. There is validity to “[w]e were close, me and her.”
The question then becomes why the ambiguity? Had TFS been made in a different time, and James didn’t have a boyfriend, and Violet and Clementine couldn’t be a couple, yes, it would’ve been Telltale beating around the bush.
Except even in this moment, Clementine outright says girlfriend in reference to a sapphic dynamic.
Because TFS was not made in a different time, James did have a boyfriend, and Violet and Clementine can kiss and hold hands.
The ambiguity indicates something else. That ambiguity is heightened the more Violet talks about Minnie pre-Broken Toys (saved Violet route). Because she speaks so fondly of her, with almost this conviction.
Yet…she still does not say girlfriend.
This is textbook. Given the essay, and what I’ve already exhausted over, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is quite plain:
What Clementine stumbles upon isn’t a mourning over a lover; it’s instead, at its core, a lasting idealization.
With BPD, idealization is as follows:
“[A] way of coping with anxiety in which an object or person of ambivalence is viewed as perfect, or as having exaggerated positive qualities.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]
This tracks.
Violet speaks so fondly of Minerva, with almost this conviction, yet she does not say girlfriend. Ever. Because the conviction is the intimacy, but Violet is a pragmatic individual. Though there’s idealization present, referring to Minnie as her girlfriend (for whatever reason) is too far for even her mental state.
Like she mourned Minnie for a year. She gushed about her to Clementine every chance she got. So…why not say it?
With this all established, TFS then allows us to witness how idealization in borderline often corrodes into devaluation—the inverse of idealization, its absolute antithesis.
“Used when a person characterizes themselves, an object, or another person as completely flawed, worthless, or as having exaggerated negative qualities [. . .] because there is often no middle ground for a person with BPD. Feeling challenged, threatened, or disappointed can quickly cause them to devalue the people they formally idealized. Rather than cope with the stress of ambivalence, devaluing functions to minimize the anxiety caused by ambiguity.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]
This corrosion has a name. It is splitting.
Like with the previous definitions, I will allow my resource to explain this concept, because of everything this essay has to offer, it is this that the everything hinges on.
“Splitting involves an inability to hold two opposing thoughts, beliefs, or feelings. People who have BPD tend to view others in all-or-nothing [. . .] terms. “This self-protective defense mechanism aims to help people with BPD protect themselves from getting hurt in relationships. By labeling people as ‘good,’ they are able to engage in relationships despite the emotional risks. If they feel threatened, they can then quickly discard the individual or the relationship by labeling them as ‘bad.’ “Like most defense mechanisms, someone with BPD may not be aware that they are engaging devaluation and idealization. Splitting is a subconscious way to protect themselves from perceived stress[, and] reflects the challenges associated with maintain an integrated view of the good and bad in a person under stress. Some researchers suggest that some of the difficulty is rooted in the way the brain, particularly the amygdala and prefrontal lobe, activates in these experiences for people with BPD.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]
…again, this essay has to break away from Violet and TFS to provide an insight, a discussion, of what this means for BPD.
I will start by clarifying that splitting from one end to the other is a bitch to deal with. The catch is not every person with BPD is incapable of reading the world beyond black-and-white. I’m one who can, …when I’m not in the midst of an episode. Day to day, I’m apathetic/indifferent—take your pick—, and because of that, I don’t give enough of a shit to really fixate on what is “good” and what is “bad” to me. I take everything as they go.
Because I really, really do not give a flying fuck.
The moment there is any seed of emotional attachment, or anchorage, it changes things. For me, it’s generally that I really adore this person, but they did something that hurt, and it confused me, so I shut down and close myself off. Namely so that I can have the time and space to breathe and process. Because I feel a lot for these people. I’ve gone over how intense that feeling is. And the last thing I want to do is hurt them.
So the moment I get confused, it boils into frustration, but frustration means ire with me. And that’s terrifying, because I don’t know what I can and will do if I’m backed into a corner. Because I know my brain shuts itself off.
The other thing to this as well is…it’s not always such a violent shift between idealization and devaluation. It really depends on how confused I am, the person, and then the time and distance laid between me and them. If there’s minimal distance between me and them, and minimal time between then and now, then yes, it will be explosive. If, say, a year has passed, and I have not seen this person within that time, then the splitting will look very different—largely because I don’t perceive it as an immediate danger, so my brain never shuts off, and I can process in the moment with reason. There’s still significant emotions there, of course, and given it’s still splitting, I do have that shift between the extremes. Difference is,I am able to regulate myself better.
Take note of this nuance, because it is absolutely present in Violet.
And we resume her relationship with Minnie, where we witness the corrosion from idealization, inching towards its antithesis. The process is best explored if Violet is saved, where it doesn’t taken an age, nor a day. It takes mere morning hours.
When spying upon the boat to get their bearings, and formulate a plan, they find Minnie chopping wood. Or, Clementine does, pulls a knife on her, before Violet intervenes. They embrace. Clementine has opinions off to the side. 
Then.
They talk. And Minnie… Um. Well. If Delta was inspired by the New Frontier, Minnie would’ve had a fat branding right on her forehead.
Immediately, it becomes evident that Minerva has no interest in going back to the school. Her loyalty lies with the Delta. And given the prompt, she will have this to say:
[Violet’s in charge.] “Really? The Violet I knew could barely stand to talk to people, let alone play class president. You’re the one who convinced the school to fight back. From where I’m standing, that puts you in charge. Your ‘leadership’ is going to get my little brother killed.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Forest]
Huh.
Not only does what she say about Violet directly contradict what Clementine sees from her, Minnie is also blatant in steamrolling right through the testament, and tells Clementine that no, you’re the leader, and you’re bad at it because you are a threat to my brother.
It’s a little jarring. Because, one, ouch. That’s mean. Mitch died because he ran into a knife, and it was not Clementine’s.
But two, what?! Violet, whose first line to Clementine is snark about her driving, could barely stand to talk to people? Violet. Who stood up to Marlon, cleaver at hand? The one who Louis says (given the other route) will do just that to any threat?
Our Violet, who Clementine gets to know. The one who immediately took the role after Marlon because nobody else did? Despite the fact that, yes, she realizes there’s no promise that the schoolkids will actually listen?
Violet…is openly sardonic, is she not? Does she not confront people with a weapon?
It’s a little jarring, then it’s…dissonant the more you pick it apart. Because what is Minnie talking about? 
I will say, for sure, Violet changed within that year apart. But not to the degree that Minnie implies to us. We have Louis’ words for Violet, and then Violet herself—constantly brings up protecting the twins. And she’s shown she will. Violet will shoot Lilly if told. And Violet, after Marlon’s death, brandishes her cleaver to shield Clementine and A.J from the other schoolkids.
Maybe part of the change was that she vowed to herself that she’d do better after losing the twins. Wouldn’t be surprised.
…but Minnie didn’t like killing walkers, though. Which implies that, yes, Violet probably filled a protector role for her, in regards to the dead.
It’s baffling. I can go on and on and on.
Just as Violet did, between seeing Minnie after so long, and finding Clementine in her dorm.
“The thing is, seeing Minnie… I feel like it should’ve scared me. But it didn’t. The person we ran into in the woods, that wasn’t Minnie. Not really. The way she sounded, and acted… The way she talked about Sophie, and Lilly… I’m…confused, I guess.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]
She voices the same sentiment.
But upon various dialogue prompts, the corrosion inches its way to Violet:
[She’s one of them now.] “It sucks, but…I don’t know what else I expected.” [It’s not Minnie’s fault.] “I never said it was. But it doesn’t change anything.” [We can save Minnie.] “You saw how she reacted when Lilly showed up. Those are her people now. And we are not.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]
I do think it’s interesting that, even if Clementine says to Violet that Minnie could be saved, she says otherwise. Because Violet is pragmatic. Minerva coming back from the Delta is just not realistic.
So through time and distance, and the wake-up call in the woods, Violet expresses an acceptance of this. The fact that Minnie won’t come back. It’s not quite splitting, because…this isn’t a true devaluation here; it’s the idealization ebbing away.
“Minnie…, the real Minnie…, she’s gone. She’s been gone this whole time, and I…have to stop mourning her. I won’t let her take you or A.J. Or anyone else I care about.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]
And she admits it to Clementine aloud. Promises her that she, and A.J, along with everyone else, will be protected from the Delta—from Minnie, if need be.
Not only that, if Violet is romanced, she makes a request:
“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try with someone I cared about. And I never have. [. . .] Have you ever danced with anyone before?” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]
I’ve always taken this line to signal how nervous, and how new Violet is to this kind of relationship. Because it is new to her. This is the first time where her feelings were reciprocated. She always wanted to try dancing with someone, but for whatever reason, never had with Minnie. And she’s nervous because…she wants it to be reciprocated, and Violet here is gaging a reaction, testing the waters.
In writing this essay, another thought occurred:
This is Violet moving on.
She’s nervous because there is a lot of weight to this request. She’s gaging what Clementine says, because Violet is invested now. All-in. 100%.
It’s not about Minerva—doesn’t even outright say that she never had a dance with Minnie.
Because by this point, through this dance, Violet’s realized just how unreciprocated her feelings were, because now, she has the chance to dance with someone who does reciprocate. And not just in the dance. Clementine’s loyalty extends further than that.
Another detail that I noticed is perpetuated throughout every interaction with Minnie is who she always prioritizes, and how it contrasts Clementine. With Clementine, of course A.J is first priority, and Violet understands that. And she goes out of her way to help with him. Conversely, Clementine helps with Tenn, and the school, and the other Ericson kids. All of which are who Violet also prioritizes.
Meanwhile, the same can’t be said for the other side of that contrast. Because it’s always what about Sophie and Minnie? from Violet, and never what about Tenn and Violet? from Minerva. It’s only ever Tennessee for her.
With the initial encounter, yes. She wouldn’t be asking about Violet because… Violet’s right there. She’s talking to her. However, we overhear Minnie talking to Dorian, asking to have Tenn join her. Not Violet. Then, further into the night, where suddenly she’s singing her own boss music and a red bar just takes up the whole screen, Minnie goes out of her way to claim Tenn.
And then, for good measure, axe Clementine.
But not because of Violet. Clementine gets axed regardless of who she saves, because Minnie…is far, far more pissed that Clementine put Tennessee in danger than anyone else. Including Violet.
The Delta changed Minerva. Yes.
Yet, Lilly never was able to remove her loyalty to her people. Her people being Tenn.
It’s telling, how (in)significant Violet was to her because all I read is…, it is nowhere close to the significance Minnie had on Violet. Because Minnie had other priorities.
She just happened to be Violet’s primary emotional anchor. And with that comes everything Violet could feasibly offer a person.
Here’s the thing to understand with this essay, and what I’m getting at with Minnie and Violet’s past relationship:
Violet anchoring Minnie is not Minnie’s fault. It’s not Violet’s either; a kid isn’t going to understand why they’re feeling a certain type of way, but when it feels nice, they will follow. Especially when the adults responsible for troubled youth are just…gone.
But what this does bring to light is a nesting place for borderline’s stigma.
Emotional anchors, splitting between idealization and devaluation—these concepts are the source for much of the fear against people with BPD. When gathering articles to reference at the end, some articles I pull from r/BPD on Reddit because having resources that are from people with experience asking and answering questions is incredibly valuable. Many discussions in r/BPD related to this (exchange primary emotional anchor with FP) are frustrating. For myself to read, because several are people not with BPD venting, but, I imagine it was frustrating to type out because…they’re venting for a reason.
Depending on the discussion, however, what is said is ignorant to all of what I know of my disorder. I know where it comes from. I know that the emotions behind all of what I do with anchorage are genuine. But then there’s people who vent, or there’s others who prompt a question because they are nervous that their friend (with BPD) is not genuine.
Of course, I can’t promise how other people with BPD are like. BPD is dependent on the personality, and if you have a shit personality. Um. Yeah. You’re not a fun person to be around. Sorry?
Not really, but, you know.
Stigma aside, it is true. I understand the insecurities, and the need to vent. Being someone’s anchor because of borderline is a lot of fucking pressure, and truth be told, it’s like that because…what if you just can’t reciprocate the intensity? After that honeymoon phase, people without the underlying disorder tend to get exhausted emotionally, meanwhile…, there is no cease from the other.
So people tend to draw away. They either do so quietly, in attempt to not hurt feelings, or, they’ll be direct and antagonize because of they stress they’re under. Either way, if the condition has gone untreated, the confusion this brings will then ignite the individual’s borderline. This is where you get insecurities born within the relationship, which the person can then go further and self-sabotage because there is no regulating themselves. You get constant bombardment whenever they feel neglected. They’re overbearing. You feel that their claws are dug deep, and it’s far deeper than you could’ve ever imagined.
Because there’s an anchorage.
If this is what happened, and Minnie entertained Violet, but never reciprocated the magnitude of devotion Violet brings with her… I can’t blame the girl. And given that Minnie was a troubled youth just as much as Violet was, she had her fair share of issues.
Because frankly, I don’t care if she was brainwashed or what, Minnie still killed her twin sister. You know, the one that has been in the same situations, the same environments, throughout Minnie’s life, yet when she saw the Delta, Sophie did not fold. Sophie actively fought against the Delta, whereas Minnie…complied.
Even before they were caught on the raft that Sophie planned to steal.
“One of the girls saw that this was a place worth fighting for, and her tears dried. But the other twin, she could never forget her old home. She rejected every gift, every opportunity. Stirred up trouble every chance she got. She convinced her sister to help her steal a raft and leave on the river. Of course, they didn't get far. What happened then, Minerva?” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]
This Parable of Twins is, of course, by Lilly’s word, and yes, she did brainwash Minnie. So naturally, there will be an element here where the details are lost. I buy that Minnie did accept her place in the Delta where Sophie never did, but I don’t really believe that it was just because she saw it was a place worth fighting for.
The reality of Minerva is she’s a very conflicted person, and she’s passive by nature. She’s a good head taller than Violet, yet, when Violet talks about her (and Sophie), it’s always about protecting her. Because Minnie didn’t like killing walkers.
I also wonder if the reason why she’s so passive is because Sophie…might’ve been the one that got her and Tenn into trouble right with her, if she was more combative. As for the confliction, Minerva may have been caught in between—because there’s a combative twin, and then there’s a younger brother to protect, one who’s passive to a fault.
It’s this confliction and passiveness that has Minnie primed for manipulation. She will seek stability through, well, passive means. With the Delta, do as they say.
…and with Violet, it’s let the girl have her infatuation, maybe entertain it, but don’t cross too far into romantic territory because the girl’s a little too intense.
(Of course, Minnie is also the one who was practically dead herself while leading a herd by voice alone, to kill her brother and maybe do a little slashing. So like, she is just as intense, just…in less of a loyal kind of way, and more in fucking unhinged way. Because she also might’ve been the one to instill Tenn’s beliefs.)
Once it’s revealed what happened to Sophie, Violet snaps. She yells at Minerva.
But even still, there’s a slip of that anchorage:
“Who are you?! Fuck survival! Look at what you’re doing! Minnie, please, I just want to talk to you for a second! I’m sorry we never searched for you, for Sophie… I’m sorry we trusted that fucker, Marlon. If I ever thought there was a chance—” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]
Following this, time ticks away with a bomb in a boiler, so Clementine lunges for an escape—to get A.J back to her side. And Minnie tries to stop her.
With a knife near-identical to Jane’s in S2. And it manages to gouge a near-identical scar in Clementine’s sternum. A stark parallel to S2’s ending. Except, Violet doesn’t hesitate. The moment she is out of the cell, she disappears into the backdrop, then an arrow finds its place in Minerva’s shoulder not long thereafter.
She does stay at her side, for when the schoolkids leave. Perhaps for closure, if the previous dialogue gives any indication.
Because even though Violet shot Minnie, moved on from her with a dance, and realized that she wasn’t going to return, that anchor is still there. Minnie was, after all, still a significant part of her, and that…doesn’t really ever just go away. The idealization may have drained, but the feelings themselves do remain.
We then look to another Violet, who was taken rather than saved.
“At least here I have Minnie… [. . .] Don’t act like you know her. She tried to escape. Her and Sophie. They said if I fight back, they’d kill Minnie. Or one of you. All you’ve done is get us hurt or killed. If you fuck this up worse, I’ll stop you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’m not losing her again, or anyone else.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]
And another aspect of BPD, and anchorage, becomes clear:
Borderline primes people for manipulation, much in the same way that a passive and conflicted nature primed Minnie.
There’s a flipside to emotional anchoring in BPD, and it has everything to do with how the disorder forces people to become reliant on their anchors. People who cannot discern nor regulate their own emotions, and people with a bleak, instable sense of identity.
Which is a problem because there are people who’re able to take a person’s emotions, and weaponize them as a puppeteer. They manipulate through any means necessary.
Most, in an effort to avoid being manipulated themselves, try to hide their emotions and keep them out of reach. They suppress them, because suppressing your emotions is how you get the most control, and nobody else.
Right?
Coming from experience, do not do this. Suppressing your emotions is the last thing you want to do.
Especially if you want to avoid getting yourself manipulated.
I felt that I had to suppress not just as a child, but before that, because I was in a fucked situation. And it did this to me.I have no control. Life is a writhing storm at sea, and I just fucking hope I can find an anchor within the storm’s eye—but I know there’ll never be a calm to this storm.
And the wrong people know this. The ones who prey and manipulate to abuse the loyalty I am so desperate to offer, and can pull it from me with ease, should idealization blind me from the warning signs.
When Violet is saved, she sees through Minnie quickly. Because it’s in how Minnie talks. And it’s weird, because Violet also includes how she talked about Sophie, when the most Minnie said was “she died protecting the Delta. A hero” once prompted by Violet’s concern. That shouldn’t have raised alarm, yet…something about it did. To Violet.
So she’s able to let go. Violet still holds the memory of Minnie quite dear to her heart—the one in her head—, but after this, it was more about closure, not bringing her back. And all it took was that one interaction.
But here, back to a Violet taken away, it takes longer. She’s not told what actually happened to Sophie; instead, both Minerva and Lilly feed into a broken trust with Clementine, and condemns Violet back to the girl who sat with Grandma’s body rocking behind her.
Her loyalty blinds her to what Minnie has devolved into, so she goes and tries to stop the bomb, save the boat, and secure a future with her because Minnie is all she knows and trusts.
Yet.
It’s broken when Violet does. Because Violet has her face marred by the bomb. She’s left to defend herself—blindly—as she clambers out of the water with a walker snagged at the leg. She asks for Minnie at first, is led by Louis, and then…it becomes clear what happened when they hear gunshots, clearing away the walkers.
Minnie. Is left. Unscathed.
Well, okay. She does, like, panic and stuff, and then gets bit. So, that explosion had been her death sentence.
But Minnie is not burned. Not like Violet.
Which…implies something. However it happened, Violet was the one closest to the bomb, and Violet was further down the beach, towards the boat, whereas when Clementine, A.J and Louis reach her, Minnie is away, towards the woodland. Getting her ass bit. A bunch.
She either got off the boat at a different (earlier) time, or, she just…abandoned Violet. To defend the last of the boat and her crew. And, probably, to look for Tenn.
Leaving Violet to realize something, and as she struggles to see the world, she begins to try and apologize. To Clementine. Who didn’t lie to her about the fucking bomb on the boat, and given that, it also kinda explains why Clementine didn’t take her sweet time consoling Violet from her episode because. Um. The bomb. 
Whatever it was that happened, it’s enough to rattle Violet to reason. And to snap her out of it.
Within one interaction. (…explosion.)
It’s…the little things like this—the ones that go unsaid—, which indicate Minnie’s sense of priorities, and how even when Violet actively worked to help save the boat, those priorities never were Violet. Before this, she manipulated and lied to her, and (via the alternative path) she never…danced with Violet, despite Minnie being the musical twin. Instead, Violet never danced, but she does sing now. 
Which again has me wonder, was it Minnie entertaining Violet, and/or, if the subtext found in the fishing cabin does indicate this, was it never romantic like how Violet wanted? Just physical?
I’m kinda losing my mind over here?!
There was always an imbalance. Violet always prioritized Minnie, and her sister, and her brother. She prioritized the latter two because of Minnie, and then prioritized Tenn after the sisters were traded off. Prioritized Minnie’s interests—singing, and took it on herself—, and left her own—like the dancing—to…wane in self-doubt. 
And then…, we have Minnie who killed her twin, and then went after Tenn to also kill him. The killing part is, well, the brainwashing and trauma, and stuff, but point being… Violet is still not in the equation. She’s an afterthought to Minnie.
This isn’t to say that Violet and Minnie’s relationship was downright toxic, or abusive, or anything along those lines. All we have is Violet’s word. But given Violet clearly glorified Minnie to herself, her word is unreliable.
What this is all to say is…, it was no mistake on Telltale’s part to have Violet physically blind, or then speak about how she had been blinded figuratively—before reality set in. Down one route, this was done by having the wool pulled from her eyes; down the other, it was the blinding in itself that brought her clarity.
It’s what I mean when I say that Violet’s unbridled loyalty is also her bane. She establishes strong and intense emotional anchors, to the point where should that anchor be lost, she will refuse to let go. And not because she wants to trap herself to that anchor, but because that’s…how BPD is. Attachments like this are really hard to shake off. But also, Violet didn’t know who else to turn to. 
There’s Tenn, sure, but she’s his protector, not the other way around. There’s some of the others—Mitch, Willy, Ruby, Aasim—who we don’t get enough time to really see how Violet is with them. Marlon she tolerates, but there’s a clear strain between them.
Louis— God, there’s Louis, and he’s the one that she is vehement about getting back—indicating that he is yet another anchor for her. Thing is, he was also Marlon’s best friend, and they are…opposites. A lot of conflict comes from that.
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…this essay really doesn’t have much to say with Louis and Violet. In part because, frankly, I didn’t really know where I could put him with the points I strive to make. There is absolutely space for him, yet, another thing:
Their words for each other, when the other is taken, are enough. Louis and Violet say everything themselves.
I did give commentary to the dialogue quotes, but it was sparse for this precise reason. I don’t need to get into how quietly powerful their friendship is. Louis is the one who introduces Violet by name. He’s the one that promises Clementine that it’s just her way, because he knows her. If blinded, he’s also the one that she relies on to guide her. And despite Marlon, and perhaps despite even Clementine given the different routes, there is never a malice between them.
Which I adore TFS for doing, because it would’ve been easy to have them be rivals and fight over each other. Especially for Clementine.
But that’s also juvenile, and while those storylines have their place, it is not here.
Never has. Never will.
So there’s Louis. He’s an anchor. Yet, because he is the one grounded anchor Violet has of the schoolkids, not fazed by idealization nor devaluation… That is their dichotomy. It is unique of all other relationships Violet has before Clementine—after Clementine as well, should he be the one saved.
We have Brody. Who does represent a point of devaluation for Violet. The lowest to a volatile relationship.
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[Emotional Anchorage: Walking Triggers]
Truth be told, in this most recent endeavor to write Violet’s deconstruction, Brody was who reignited the compulsion. Because there is a deep-seated complexity to what happened between her and Violet, and why it happened. …only for me to find yet another post somewhere that was made by a glanced judgement.
Its criticism wasn’t in any way toxic, which was nice because this fandom…has a mean streak. But it did harken back to borderline’s stigma regardless.
Devaluation is a very ugly mark on someone with BPD. Worse than idealization, in the eyes of many. It in itself is toxic,and this coping mechanism is one of the reasons why BPD a disorder with the stigma it portrays. There’s a dysfunction in the order within our behavior.
That dysfunction, and the subsequent behavior, provokes a defensive ignorance.
Violet is wrong to do this. This is an antagonistic trait of hers, and Brody gets the brunt of it. She had to live with this for a year.
However, making blanket assumptions is reductive, especially in a discussion where it’s about understanding the how and why. There’s a reason why Violet devalues Brody. The path to how it happened in the first place is actually quite apparent. If you know how to read the signs, you can see this happen a mile away. So through understanding the how and why, it’s easier to 1) avoid it entirely, and 2) navigate devaluation if/when it does transpire.
Both Brody and Violet together make one mistake, and the fix is straightforward. Not easy, but straightforward.
Before that, though, we first shall establish a few things.
For one, Violet is…a lot. Don’t let her apathetic demeanor fool you. Just look to the previous section—that alone is enough to prove otherwise.
Along with the apathy, Violet is sardonic. She’s aloof to people when she doesn’t have strong attachments, but, she likewise shows to be pragmatic and reasonable. Which like, same. I wear belts and layer my jackets with vests too.
…and I also know what this kind of character implies: Violet is a little bully. She absolutely has the capacity to be cruel.This is also confirmed later, where at Ruby’s hootenanny, there’s mention of an Erin with braces that Violet would make fun of. (Probably because braces are hard to take off; they are a little goofy in an apocalypse, but also…really unfortunate the more it puts stress on the mouth and dental structure.) Violet then comments that she didn’t know why she did.
I wear belts and layer my jackets too; upon reflection, I did the same thing as a kid. So I have some insight to this which may explain the why here. Given how Violet speaks of this schoolkid, I’m willing to bet that Erin wasn’t someone who Violet had strong emotions for, one way or the other. She likely was pretty indifferent to Erin.
So, if that is true, Violet being a bully here comes from a place of 1) being apathetic, and not reading social cues like she should’ve, and/or 2) Erin was an outlet, but not a personal one. 
Snide comments, and other slighted behaviors like this, they do not register. 
Nothing clicks up here, behind my eyes. The comments are too brief to. So where this lashing out is coming from, it happens so swiftly that, by the time it leaves the mouth, I don’t know where it came from. There’s not much feeling to it. It was an impulse. So I just continue on my way, and never consider why.
In this way, there’s no malicious intent, it’s just cold. But outwardly, cruel.
A lot of times, to me, it was just play. 
This is how a play with you. I make fun of you; you make fun of me. If you get hurt by it? Well. That sucks. Anyway—
Which, yes, is toxic, and I’ve realized, and I’m an adult now and I…don’t do that. Kind of. Social cues are a thing now, and I’ve gotten myself more aware of people. But I still do like poking fun, with the full expectation that it’s dished back.
Granted, I don’t know just how much of this applies to Violet. She has her insecurities, and is nervous when bringing herself to the table. And I am definitely not that—it’s not a confidence; I don’t care enough to be confident, I just do my thing.
But. This does establish a pattern with Violet, and with BPD, the disorder reflects the personality. There are common traits to BPD, but the expression of those traits varies depending on the person. For someone like Violet, who is already rather cold, this means any trait of BPD which stems from a cold demeanor will be present, and elevated. To borderline’s extreme.
Or, because Violet already can be cold to people, where devaluation is concerned, her personality makes it ten times worse. It doesn’t end. She makes comments—except, now, because there is significant emotion behind the comments (to Brody), it is to sting. It is cruel.
But…, it’s also complicated.
The bond between Brody and Violet is first made to be antagonistic, and Violet’s the one who perpetuates. Unlike the night before, where she with Clementine had a nice banter going in the dorm (if a tad guarded), Violet on the way to the cabin is hostile. Her words aren’t aggressive, but they’re instead dismissive at best, scathing at worst.
Brody does push back a little, and tries to brush it off, but it’s quite plain on her face that this does get to her.
In the cabin and away from Violet, Brody gives the context. It’s not just the words themselves hurt, it’s the fact that there’s a history there.
“Hey…, about Vi… I’m sorry she’s being a little mean. It’s my fault. [. . .] I was there when those walkers killed Sophie and Minnie. They were really close with Vi, and…I think she blames me for what happened to them. I mean, how do you even apologize for something that fucked up? I don’t know. Maybe I deserve it.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]
Violet is hurt. Brody’s guilty.
Then, there’s a second, damning piece of history that explains why Brody, of all the schoolkids, gives the most insight to Violet’s mental health, and why this is happening.
“We all used to be friends. Guess I kinda just missed that.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]
In the same way where it was textbook idealization for Minnie, this is textbook devaluation.
It’s made complicated because they were friends—good ones, considering they’ve been stuck in the same place since the outbreak—, but now there’s a negative connotation. That being the twins.
And remember, devaluation is an avoidant mechanism. Ambivalence is confusing, and that agitates a borderline personality.
Brody can then explain more, depending on the prompted dialogue:
[She’s…intense.] “She’s always been a little bit like that. But after the twins died, she really closed up.” [It wasn’t your fault.] “Still, I was the one that had to break the news to her. And ever since I did, she’s become distant.” [You should talk to her.] “Yeah, right. I tried, I have. It just never seems like the right time.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]
Once again, Violet is distant where she wasn’t before.
But we also get a further confirmation that Brody is the one with the negative connotation, and it’s because she was the one who had to tell her. …which in itself is an interesting choice of words, but we can assume Marlon pressured her once the conspiracy is revealed.
Then another confirmation, to the fact that opening a conversation has not been feasible.
Turn to Violet, and she first says this:
“God. Sometimes she just gets on my last nerve, you know? [. . .] I mean, it’s— It’s not like I hate her… I just… ‘I wish we could all go on a road trip together.’ God, she’s so…ugh. You know? [. . .] I don’t know what the problem is between us. With Brody…, I don’t know why it’s like this. Why is it so weird? I can never relax around her. It just keeps getting worse.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]
All of this is telling. Violet is very animated here, both in how she says it, her shifting tone, and what she’s saying. First it’s a comment. Second it’s admission. Then there’s that sardonic tongue, an ask to gage whether or not Clementine understands, before it all breaks and she goes back to admission.
The last couple lines say something crucial to know when understanding the dynamic here. And if a player is impatient with dialogue, they will miss these.
I can never relax around her. It just keeps getting worse.
So Brody is a walking trigger.
Within the bounds of splitting to devaluation, this happens when an emotional anchor develops a level of ambivalence, but because anchors do not just go, the anchorage is instead insecure, rather than the source of stability once relied upon.
Yes. Brody is another of Violet’s anchors—just not the primary one.
And what it means to be a walking trigger is…devastating. Not just for Brody, but for Violet as well. She doesn’t have the support Brody gives her anymore. Can’t trust it. Because every time Brody walks in the same room, Violet cannot relax. She is agitated.
Don’t take this to mean in a figurative way.
It is literal.
Triggers rise from people an emotional response. In BPD, this often means that the brain will shut its reasoning off, and prioritize this “survival” instinct. Fight-or-flight.
So when Violet says, I can never relax around her, this isn’t a oh I’m nervous, I don’t know what to do. This is I cannot function when she’s in the same room as me. Maybe she’s hypervigilant around Brody. To the point where Violet cannot stand Brody anywhere near her…
So she sabotages. She’s cruel to Brody in the comments she makes. She does not allow Brody to get close, because it is too much. Rather than a calm, reasonable state of mind, Violet feels things. A cold pit in her stomach. A dwelling ache in her chest, or a knot in her throat. Can’t focus on what she’s doing—Brody’s there.
And the easiest way to stop it is to push Brody away.
And, and, initially, blame the girl.
[Because you blame her.] “Well, that’s what I used to think. I just keep thinking that things might have ended differently if I was there. Maybe I could’ve protected Soph. And Minnie…” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]
There’s a confliction here. Violet did blame Brody, until she realized it wasn’t that. Instead, she blamed herself.
It’s the following prompt, however, that gives the best clarity to Brody and Violet. The prompt,
[Because she never said sorry.] 
where Violet tells Clementine exactly what the trigger is—because by this point, a year later, she’s figured out how to articulate what it is:
[Violet] “She tell you that?” [Clementine] “More or less. She wants to talk about it, you know.” [Violet] “I just… I feel guilty about the whole thing.” [Clementine] “Why?” [Violet] “I was supposed to be out with the twins that day. I wanted to work in the greenhouse, so I asked Brody to cover for me. But then… I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I… I wanted to talk to Brody, to tell her I didn’t blame her for what happened. But every time I tried, I was reminded of who we lost. It was easier to just not talk about it.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]
If BPD isn’t a lonely experience, or a humiliating one, it can be a guilty life to live.
Violet expresses why losing the twins hurt as much as it did: there was never closure, and she blamed herself. Hence why, earlier, I suspected that seeking closure was what kept Violet at Minnie’s side after shooting her.
She was finally saying that goodbye, regardless of how the interaction itself went.
But it’s what she says about Brody.
Violet wants to talk. She has wanted to. But Brody’s a walking trigger. Every. Single. Time that Violet tried to talk, the same turbulence arose. In BPD, without that regulation, it is unbelievably difficult to talk when…your body’s actively flipping the fuck out.
A cold pit in her stomach. A dwelling ache in her chest, or a knot in her throat. Can’t focus on what she’s doing.
Of course she found it easier to just not talk about it. That is an instinct ingrained by borderline.
BPD is a lonely experience every time you lose an anchor this way. The disorder is humiliating because you do not want people to see you like this, when you’re in the midst of an episode, and you have no fucking control over your body, so you yourself are flipping the fuck out.
And it’s guilty. Because when you’re in Violet’s position, where you know the reason why, you know what you want to do, but your body works against you at every turn…
It devastates a person.
Because it is your fault. You did this yourself. Reap what you sow. You’ve done it again, it’s humiliating, and you are very, very alone because you just cannot stop burning bridges.
…in the apocalypse, being chained to a boarding school does not help. There is no way to give the time and space someone like Violet needs to think, and to process, and to let those emotions relax. Brody kicks up those emotions whenever she’s around, and the dust just never settles.
Violet trapped herself in a cycle. By the hour, or by the day, for a year, it would’ve been a ceaseless agony.
One that did scar over. Violet probably got used to it, and found a routine to the snide comments. It wasn’t like Brody was leaving anytime soon.
Until she does, and she suffers a disorientating last few moments.
I’d like to think they made amends and had a full conversation. I don’t know, however. But, at least Violet does take the first step when walking from the cabin, and she entertains Brody’s fantasies about a road trip, and that she would’ve had her sights on the Grand Canyon.
Because the one mistake they made was they never talked. It wasn’t going to be an easy thing, but it is that straightforward. So when they did, or began to, the devaluation began to ebb away.
Then, a tragic irony.
Brody’s guilt was never just I’m not Minnie, so she hates me, and it’s my fault. Rather, Brody’s guilt was warranted, and quite honestly, yeah. She should’ve be guilty, because it’s I watched as my leader gave this girl’s world away, and did nothing, lied to her, to her face, for a year.
Violet didn’t know this at the time. So for her, Brody was a point of devaluation because it’s her mental health actively jeopardizing things, not the truth and circumstance. The deception, in the conversation of that mental health, instead plays itself like salt to a wound, and then a tragic irony once Brody was murdered for it.
Because Brody knew they had to tell people. If the path to mending their relationship was encouraged, then it could be read that it gave her the inch to confront Marlon. If otherwise, Brody wanted to tell everyone because she needed to, despite what turmoil the truth would’ve caused Violet.
By the time Violet does know, and there’s a funeral, she says this about Brody:
“Brody, she was… She was real sweet. She had big dreams. And we all knew they wouldn’t come true, but we didn’t care. And we didn’t care because when she was talking, whatever she said seemed possible. [. . .] I don’t know if she found the place she dreamed about, but I’m gonna miss her.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Courtyard]
There’s forgiveness. With Brody died that devaluation.
Not a moment thereafter, however,
“Marlon was… I can’t. Not for Marlon. After what he did to the twins and Brody, I—”  [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Courtyard]
The cycle continues.
Now with Marlon.
If Violet devalued Brody, she absolutely vilified Marlon. Because not only was it about the twins, there’s also Brody.
So of course she didn’t give him any peace after the fact. Why would she? Marlon had his own complexities, yes, but those complexities hurt. They brought another ambivalence.
As the essay rattles from the schoolkids, we’ll discuss another relationship now. A new, fresh one. Clementine, through who we see all of it—the emotional anchorage, the idealization, and devaluation. The splitting between. How intense Violet can be, and how volatile.
We have Clementine, who is given the chance to witness what Louis means for this wallflower, and that she grows on you (he promises so).
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[VIOLENTINE: The Ship, and its Anchorage]
Platonic or romanced—the difference doesn’t matter in this essay. The shift of context between friend and more than that is just that: a shift in context. Distinguishing the two will have its moment, but it is hardly integral to the fact of the matter:
Violet anchored Clementine, and she did it swiftly. (In record time, dare I say.)
In regards to the arguments against romancing Violet, there’s a lot of people who look to Minnie, then back to Violet, and point to Clementine’s “girlfriend” dialogue. “Violet’s not over Minnie,” is a common one, right alongside, “Clementine’s just a rebound.”
Now. I’ve spent 5.5k words tearing those arguments to shreds in one section, and I still have with me another few things to say about Minnie and Violet’s relationship up my sleeve. In light of Clementine and Violet’s relationship.
Because even though I do buy that they were closer than friends arguably would be, they weren’t girlfriends. It’s why Violet was insecure within their relationship, and why that insecurity devolved into a strong case of idealization. Violet genuinely did love Minnie. Her bond with the twin will honestly forever be there, but that bond wasn’t unconditional. The conditions were at the cost of Violet’s mental health.
Then there’s the rebounding, and I will use this as a jumping off point regardless of relational status.
Rebound relationships are defined by a partner still with a previous relationship’s baggage. They’re not done healing. They haven’t quite let go. It gets in the way for committed relationships where the expectation is that both are in it 100%, and that person just…can’t. Because they’re still fixated on the last partner.
…which yes, does sound like Violet. Cuz it kinda, sorta, frankly is.
However. For one thing, this dynamic doesn’t just apply to a Violet route opted for romance. The rebound applies to a platonic dynamic, in part because I don’t frankly believe Minnie was a true girlfriend, and in part because idealization is not specific to partners. Especially in what we see in TFS, Violet needed to let go of Minnie regardless.
Then there’s the fact that being a rebound isn’t always bad. To rebound, which is where the term “rebound relationship” derives from, means for something/someone to bounce back. Or, it can mean a kind of backfire. Both uses of the word can be applied to relationships like this, which, yes, is why they’re fickle, and why people do their best to avoid.
Here’s the thing: Violet needed a new relationship to pull her out of the old one. Because Clementine is a catalyst for Violet, and she was anchored so quickly because whether Violet herself realized, she did want to move on. She couldn’t, but through Clementine, she got the chance.
And I do confidently say that she did want to, because by one interaction in the woods, Violet is disillusioned from Minerva immediately. She’s snapped out of what image she had of her, and is the one that remains realistic where Clementine can offer supporting words—along the lines of we can get her back.
It’s why Brody, through the cabin’s conversation, observes the same.
“We all used to be friends. Guess I kinda just missed that. But when you showed up… I don’t know, I just haven’t seen her warm up to someone in a long time.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]
I find it interesting that Brody picks up on Violet taking to Clementine so quickly, and is able to read enough into this to try and see if it’s enough of a push for Violet to start healing. She’s right, it is enough, and Violet does take a first step in mending their relationship, and breaking away from the devaluation that was arguably heightened by her idealization of Minnie.
…granted, it’s dependent on player choice. There are Violets running around out there having fished with Clementine, but never did reconcile with Brody.
In any case, I am going to argue against Minnie being Violet’s ex because 1) who the fuck cares, I’m not concerned over purity over here, and 2) it’s likely they weren’t exes at all.
However, I won’t fight against this being a rebound. It is. But, Violet’s arc is about learning how to let the fuck go, she has a problem with letting go, so of course the relationship would be a rebound by proxy. A healthy rebound, at that.
By the time she is forced to let go of Clementine, after two newcomers are voted out, her attachment is made quite plain the moment Clementine is in danger within— What, five minutes, and Clementine is at gunpoint?
Regardless, Violet is there, bow at hand, with Louis behind her. She is ready to shoot, and it is no bluff. Violet will if prompted. Or, she will run should Clementine prioritize getting the two out of it.
Because Clementine’s already anchored. Violet trusts her to make the call, and she will follow without hesitation. Later on, after a weary night with A.J shot, then a morning of crawling back for medicine, Violet calls for Clementine to talk in the office. And in there, the anchorage is confirmed further:
“What happened out in the woods… I saw they had you pinned, and I… Shit, I got so crazy. “I know you think I didn’t do enough for you and A.J, but when I saw you were in danger, I had to do something.” / “When I heard you call for help, I didn’t even think.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Office]
The second line is dependent on whether or not Clementine blamed Violet before, as her and Louis walked the exiled to…exile. And stuff.
But, her account as to why she ran right for Clementine, and pulled an arrow on Lilly says everything I got so crazy, I didn’t even think, I had to do something. Clementine roused a trigger.
This time, in a very good way. Well, as good as the circumstances. In any case, this does count as a trigger because it’s inciting an emotional response, and given Violet’s wording, a fight-or-flight. (I realize triggers are specific for negatives; for the sake of brevity, I don’t care. I still say it counts.) It’s the reason why, before, when I detailed how I personally get with my anchors, I do similar things. No, not literally pull an arrow on someone, but I act on impulse without care, because I just want to satisfy their needs to the absolute fullest. It’s genuine, but it’s also triggering—under a positive connotation.
After this, of course, we push into Violet leading the school as they prep for an attack, with Clementine right alongside her. Whatever happens during this time is unknown, just that the school built-up the walls, laid their defenses, and focused on instruments to help, such as traps and explosives. Shortly after the time-skip, of course, we get the belltower sequence.
Starting with an inquiry:
“I know you came back for medicine, for A.J, but after that, you could’ve just left. Avoided all the bullshit with the raiders. Why didn’t you? Sorry, I know that puts you on the spot. You don’t have to answer. We’ve all got our reasons.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]
Violet asks something that has likely been on her mind for a while, but then… Not backtracks, but she does relinquish the pressure for that answer.
As their time at the belltower continues, it’s clear where the question came from.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just…talk so much. It’s just, I’ve watched people leave before. Family, friends. They never come back. But you did. And now I can’t imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here. Um. Shit, that sounds so much dumber when I say it out loud. You know what I mean.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]
Violet’s hesitancy to speak her mind, be vulnerable, is interesting, particularly because it’s about doing so too much. It’s a very specific one, with ambiguous implications. This could be an anxiety she put on herself, or, this was something that she took after a mention that she was talking too much, getting too personal, one way or another. Then there’s also another thing, where it sounds dumber than she intended. As though when speaking her mind, Violet has an idea of what to say, but she doesn’t know quite how to articulate it.
This is a really good line of dialogue, so that latter insecurity is just that: an insecurity.
Nevertheless, this speaks volumes because it’s the first verbal admittance to an issue with abandonment. All the adults left her life, and never returned. Those include her parents, who never tried to get back to the school. Her grandfather died, so not his fault, but her grandmother shot herself right behind Violet. Which is abandonment, and really fucked to do. The teachers of Ericson’s…
Then fellow students. Most probably died, including Brody. And the twins were taken away.
Abandonment is a huge thing.
So we turn to the route where Violet is taken. And it’s not good. Violet reacts as predictably as this essay has outlined.
[Clementine] “Vi? What happened? Are you okay? Violet, talk to me… We’re here to take you home.” [Violet] “I looked for you. When they grabbed me, I saw…you let them take me. I’m just supposed to forget that because you’re here now?” [Violet, if platonic] “Some fucking friend you are.” [Violet, if romanced] “Some fucking feelings you had for me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]
Here we have now a fresh faultline within her and Clementine’s relationship. It brings ambivalence. Upon seeing Clementine, she’s plunged into an episode.
And Violet splits. Her image of Clementine is distorted, so she falls back to the same pattern she did with Brody, and she is hostile.
[Clementine] “What’s wrong with you, Vi? Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.” [Violet] “No, Clem. I’m done. This whole situation is so fucked! At least here I have Minnie…” [Clementine] “You mean the Minnie that betrayed us?” [Violet] “Don’t act like you know her. She tried to escape. Her and Sophie. They said if I fight back, they’d kill Minnie. Or one of you. All you’ve done is get us hurt or killed. If you fuck this up worse, I’ll stop you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’m not losing her again, or anyone else.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]
We also have Violet manipulated on top of that, led instead by Lilly and Minnie’s word, not Clementine. Because BPD primes people to manipulation, especially in times when they’re at their most vulnerable. But, throughout these interactions, we do see Clementine attempt to console her, and talk.
Violet, however, is not open to. She is not in the right state of mind. This is a BPD episode, so Clementine is not able to get through to her here. Violet does not trust her—too much ambivalence. Mitch’s death is fresh on her mind, she’s been lied to by Minnie about what happened to Sophie, and with that lie, she was told that more people would die if they did not listen.
And of course, the more time is spent, Clementine starts to get frantic as everything escalates because there’s a fucking bomb ticking away in the deck down below. So there comes about an urgency, and she can’t spend that valuable time consoling Violet.
So she starts chipping away at the door. 
“What the fuck are you doing?! You’re gonna get us all killed!” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]
And Violet does precisely what she said she would do, and she attempts to stop Clementine herself. Because there’s Minnie again, but she also doesn’t want anyone else to die either.
Lucky for Clementine, she is stronger, and she is able to overpower Violet within a minute. However, in trying to get the cells unlatched, then to find her way to A.J, she herself is overpowered by Minerva. The urgency and stress associated backs Clementine to a corner. She still doesn’t want to see Violet hurt, so, she explains,
[Clementine] “We planted a bomb on the boat!” [Violet] “Fuck you, there’s a bomb! Mitch is dead! You just… Fucking go!” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]
…and again, Violet does not trust her. Mitch’s death is still fresh on her mind. Everything that Lilly and Minnie fed to her is still present.
Then, the bomb goes, and it takes Violet’s sight with it. Even on the beach, she asks for Minnie, amidst confusion because, somewhere down the line, they got separated. Louis has to be the one to support her. By this point, and some beats after, it feels like this is another Brody. Like there’s no turning back, not until a long, long year where Clementine would be in the same shoes.
Minnie makes herself known, though. She’s off in the woodland, with her people. 
And that is when this Violet has the wool pulled from her blinded eyes, because she realizes what happened.
The moment is brief. It’s very easy to miss. Yet, the attempts Clementine gave on that boat to console her, before the urgency really began to set in, was not fruitless.
Violet tries to apologize:
“Clementine? The stuff I said on the boat, in the cell, I, uh…” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Beach] 
It’s not the right time for it. The schoolkids need to get off that beach, but this brief moment is huge.
The thing about episodes is, yes, in the moment, the individual is not consolable. There’s no reasoning with someone who is shut down. However, the attempts to try and console, and/or any verbal promises to leave the door open for when they’ve calmed down, the effort can be recognized and appreciated.
Once Violet snaps out of it, that’s precisely what it was. She understands that Clementine was never trying to hurt her, nor did she come to her disingenuous. Clementine was there to bring her back, because the situation was exactly as Violet herself said—fucked.
But still… Clementine was there to bring her back. 
Either way, Clementine proved herself to Violet, because down this route, she left twice, and came back both times.
Of course, the night does not end there. Clementine loses a leg. Another schoolkid is gone.
So through the weeks thereafter, Violet gave herself the time, and then, she tries again with the apology:
[Violet] “I wanted to wait ‘til you were up and about, but how I behaved on the boat… It was really unfair. My head was so messed up—by Lilly, and… And Minnie. I was so wrapped up in my own shit…” [Clementine] “It’s okay. You went through hell in that boat, and I let that happen.” [Clementine, if platonic] “I’m just glad we got you out of there.” [Clementine, if romanced] “I’m just glad I got you back. I was so worried I’d lost you.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]
In this apology, Violet articulates the position she was in, and admits the kind of influence Minnie was to her—not a good one. And in turn, Clementine acknowledges her. She doesn’t demean Violet for what she did. On top of that, she expresses how she’s just happy that Violet is there in the moment.
This route is bittersweet. We have the beginning, where Violet is guarded, then she warms up to Clementine, finds an anchoring point, and acts upon a fierce loyalty. Which then is hurt when Clementine chooses to save Louis instead. The time on the boat is very bitter because…the truth about borderline is, yeah no, it does not care who the person is to the mentally ill. The disorder is a disorder for a reason. It will hurt, and it will put a strain and test a relationship.
Then you just have the big fuck you axe where Minnie…effectively was the one who managed to wound Clementine, have her get bit, and then lose the leg. Which isn’t really how an eye for an eye goes, but that’s what this route goes with.
But then…, it’s sweet. Because Clementine did the right things, with what stress she was under.
She tried to talk to Violet, and in doing so, she left a door open for Violet to crawl back through when the time was ready. It was sooner rather than later for her, since Minnie… Whatever. However, it’s an apocalypse; a boat was just blown the fuck up. So while it was the time for Violet, it was not the time for literally anyone else. Ergo, a second attempt, to which there was resolve.
Clementine and Violet did not make the same mistake that Brody and Violet did.
And that’s what saves the relationship.
Now, let’s waltz all the way back and save Violet, just to show what Clementine and her do right to build a healthy connection, whereas her and Minnie went wrong. To do this, taking a brief visit to the romantic will help in dissecting an evolution found as the episodes progress.
After the bits of dialogue in the beginning of this section, Clementine can choose to confess her feelings for Violet. It can be solidified by a kiss, or a question for a relationship, or…a meek silence, to which Violet is able to read and feel the same. Clementine can also express confusion, in that she needs the time, but express the interest all the same.
There’s a sweet moment here, and with the kiss, it can also be a touch awkward because…
Okay, they kind of flounder. Violet more so. Which is interesting to note, because Violet “supposedly” was in a relationship before. Sure, the moment on its own doesn’t mean an experienced person wouldn’t be any less awkward, but with the following steps in their relationship, it does support the suspicion this essay has in that she never had a reciprocated, romantic relationship with Minnie.
The moment where Violet asks Clementine to dance, and is nervous to do so, is one of those steps in the relationship:
“When you told me you have feelings for me, I was shocked. Then I started thinking. There’s something I’ve always wanted to try with someone I cared about. And I never have. [. . .] Have you ever danced with anyone before? [. . .] Do you…wanna? Just us. No one else around. I mean, I know it’s kind of weird, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to try.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]
It’s a step in way of romance (Clementine even remarks after how they’re getting better), but it’s also a step in Violet’s confidence in being vulnerable with someone. She’s still clearly anxious here. Violet still has some of that self-deprecation, and it comes back if Clementine rejects the offer because the idea was stupid, or something along those lines.
But she still does ask. And it’s a big ask, because this is important to Violet. So if Clementine reciprocates the dance, it’s yet another sweet moment, and it builds the confidence within for this relationship further.
Before the night, Violet can tell Clementine how she got to Ericson’s. Then, through the night itself, she backs Clementine every step of the way. Shoots Minnie. Escapes with the schoolkids, only to come back and find her with Tenn and A.J, safe and sound.
During their walk, Violet opens up again. This time, there is none of that self-deprecation, and Violet even gets choked up—but she’s not really ashamed for it, she just continues and says her piece.
“While we were looking for you guys, and I… I thought you might be…gone for good…, um, shit. I was trying to figure out what I’d do if you were gone, and I realized how goddamn stupid I was. About Minnie. For a whole fucking year. I was so wrapped up in losing her and Sophie, I pushed away everyone who tried to care about me. Marlon, Brody, Louis. Even you and A.J. I tried my damnedest not to care about either of you. And I still couldn’t tell you why.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Forest]
She admits everything. Is so very open to Clementine, and tells her what is on her mind. There’s Minnie. There’s what she regrets.
[You were afraid] “I was a goddamn coward. I’m not a coward anymore.” [I’ve done the same thing.] “And then you wonder why you fight so hard to stay alive. I don’t wonder anymore.” [You cared about me.] (Platonic) “I didn’t expect to find a friend like you, not ever again. But I’m really glad I did.” / (Romantic) “Yeah, I did. Way more than I meant to. I’m still kind of amazed we found each other, you know?” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Forest]
By this point in the story, Violet has undergone her arc.
She is a changed person because of Clementine’s influence, and she sees what she either didn’t see before, or did but had forgotten. Through a rebound, because Violet just needed a second chance to redeem herself.
Now…, she didn’t expect to find a friend like Clementine ever again? It’s interesting that Violet indicates Clementine was a second chance with the platonic route, not the romantic. Is this her quietly admitting that Minnie was never beyond a friend, actually? Or is this in reference to Brody and Sophie instead?
I dunno. Just found that interesting, since she could have said an equivalent for the romantic dialogue. In any case…
There is something so profound with how this relationship contrasts the ones which came before. As a friend or partner, Clementine never gets to the point of Minnie’s idealization, nor Brody’s devaluation. Both are antithetical to each other because they balance on the same scale—that being insecurity. Violet cared for Minnie and Brody deeply, and those emotions are genuine.
However. 
Minnie was put on a pedestal because there were faultlines to that relationship which Violet did not want to face. Brody, instead, was degraded because rather than faults, it was easier to ignore the good sides to Brody. And the good sides were a really, really sweet girl who dreamed of a better life—something that Violet could never see for herself after the twins.
Then there’s Clementine.
Even at their worst moment, where Violet’s trust in Clementine waned, she still did trust her. Clementine told her there was a bomb. Violet snapped because Mitch was the one who knew explosives, and he was dead. And yet, she got herself blinded because she knew Clementine wasn’t lying to her. She trusted her enough to know…
Well yeah. There’s a bomb.
Beyond that, however, Violet decides to do some arts and crafts, even though she says they’re stupid. Or Violet’ll ask for a dance that she’s desperately yearned for. She’ll talk to Clementine, a lot, even if she didn’t mean to do it “so much.”
Clementine as an anchor never truly corrodes. It’s tested down one of the routes, yet by the end of it, the relationship is maintained.
…there’s a final note which taps into this.
We come back again to identity one last time. For a brief anecdote—nestled within the shadows of what exhaustion this essay has gone over with Minnie and Brody, and now Clementine—, but an important one. Violet’s sense of identity will remain to be untold because we don’t have that perspective. She never talks about herself like that, so there’s no true insight for Clementine to gather.
Yet there are scant traces of identity diffusion, or an incoherent identity, ceaselessly disturbed by external influences.
This calls back to a copycat nature where borderline personalities will imitate in order to find stability. Ambitions, beliefs, interests—these all go right along with it, because they very well can change, and do so radically. Impulsions in way of severe life choices are made on the foundation this nature provides.
And that foundation is not strong.
There is no way to truly understand and deconstruct Violet’s sense of identity, yet, her behavior and choices made throughout the season can give us something to chew on.
Between the two routes, Violet is…a hair shy from being an entirely different person. The Violet Clementine brings onto the boat is not the same as the Violet she meets there. By contrast, Louis remains consistent; bring him on the boat, and he acts as expected—same with when we find him…without a tongue.
One is Clementine’s Violet. The other is Minerva’s Violet.
In both routes, Violet’s impulsion changes her life’s trajectory. She either shoots Minnie, or, she goes after the bomb and blinds herself. In one route, she’s outspoken, combative to the Delta, and fiercely loyal to the school; in the other, she does behave like how Minnie described her—never could talk to people, never to be class president. The Violet in that second route is withdrawn and quiet…
But she does confront Clementine.
She mimics Minerva’s newfound bellicosity that she dawned from the Delta, and it’s pitted against Clementine by following both her and Lilly’s word.
Going back to the first episode, where Brody tells Clementine that Violet withdrew herself from everyone, a lot of that was depression. Violet also actively told herself to push everyone away (…except Tenn, a remnant of the twins). However, there is a read here that she withdrew herself because there was no one left for Violet to mirror. She reverted herself back to the girl who sat in front of the television, with her grandmother’s fresh corpse just behind her.
Not to say that Violet doesn’t have a personality on her own. No, she still does. Having a weak sense of identity doesn’t automatically mean that there’s no identity at all. It can just mean the self-perception of identity is weak, but given that it is a self-perception, what is Violet going to draw from if she doesn’t…know how to read herself?
So Clementine meets Violet in the midst of this. She’s sarcastic and grates for a minute about the car. She keeps up a wall between her and Clementine. But by the end of the episode, and the start of the second, here Violet is cleaver at hand, about to lead the school.
Marlon scathes when she stands toe-to-toe. Talks about her being difficult again—but that in itself is ambiguous, because does this mean she’s gone toe-to-toe before, or does this mean Violet has a tendency to be inconsistent? And was that night another inconsistency?
But then… Louis. He admires the fact that Violet is like his white knight. He relies on her to protect him, because he knows that there is no doubt—she will.
Then being a leader. That comes as a surprise to presumably everyone. There’s a few points of dialogue that suggest it, others that blatantly say it, and then more few beats where we see the contention between Violet’s leadership and the schoolkids.
There’s conflict here. Violet is inconsistent in who she wants to be.
And it’s just that, isn’t it?
The TWDG community has long since decided that Violet’s arc is about letting go of Minnie (for those who see past the “rebound” thing), and self-discovery. Which is still true, but through the lens of BPD, there’s another layer to this. It’s about learning to let go despite disorder. And then, it’s learning what she wants from people, and who she wants to emulate, again, despite disorder.
What kind of person does Violet want to be?
And this is distinct from Louis, because with Louis, it is also a self-discovery. He is care-free, live in the moment, to a detriment. To be quite frank, the only reason why he got that far into the apocalypse was because he relied on his community. Not because he couldn’t contribute, but because he has his fair share of self-depreciation.
But there is no question. He knows who he is, and he knows the kind of man he wants to be. It’s why Louis does talk about his sense of self as much as he does.
Whereas Violet really doesn’t, perhaps because she can’t. All of what she confines in Clementine is the fact that things get overwhelming, and she gets confused. Quite frequently. But also, her relationships. Everything external for her, because… Again, she struggles to articulate what’s going on internally, because of that confusion. It takes time for that articulation to be feasible.
Violet has a patchwork identity. She’s kept traits of others—such as the singing. Granted, everybody does this. However, there’s her own within patchwork, but those have gone largely unexplored in the past.
Then here’s Clementine, the catalyst to this arc.
Which begs the question, why? What about Clementine has this impact on Violet?
Something about her draws Violet in. 
At first, yeah. Clementine’s new. There’s an air of mystery around a girl who totals a car at Ericson’s front lawn, with a kid in tow. But that mystery alone doesn’t equate to a cleaver pulled, guarding the new people from the rest—her own people.
The answer is rather simple: Violet is mirroring Clementine, so all there is to do is look at that reflection. And we find a leader. We find someone who is compassionate, and does everything to fight for their own. Actually fight. Tooth-and-nail. Someone who does whatever it takes to survive, even if that means rubbing the good ol’ walker jelly, or, taking risks to secure a bag of food.
Clementine’s compassion for people is evident once she wakes up, and she has A.J by her side. Her skills in leadership, her drive to fight, to survive—those are all made very clear at the train station, with both Louis and Violet following her lead.
So Violet mimicked. She found the same traits within herself, then elevated them. Brought them to the surface.
As the relationship continues to build—platonic or romantic—, Violet finds reciprocation. She’s not just emulating what Clementine would like to see. After all, she was sat in the headmaster’s chair while Clementine and A.J were still exiled. That indicates how Violet found, if not a comfort, a consolation in that part of herself.
The reciprocation continues whenever Clementine responds to her, and she validates Violet, she shows interest in what Violet says, and what Violet wants to do. Violet can ramble on and on as long as she wants, and Clementine would still listen. Violet (if romanced) can ask for a dance, and Clementine would oblige. Either way, Violet gives Clementine a pin. Clementine puts it on.
It's that compassion, and it cascades authenticity off Clementine to the people she surrounds herself with. She’s also someone who feels strongly. This character is a very empathetic person. Throughout S1, Clementine was perceptive of the people around her, and she cared. Deeply so. S2, the same thing, even if her morality began to grey. The start to closing herself off to protect herself was present. S3 as well, especially in her drive to find A.J once she learned he was still alive, out there somewhere.
Throughout the seasons, there are also plenty of moments where her empathy shows. Clementine does genuinely feel what the people around her express. Like with Louis, when his tongue is cut. You can hear in her voice how pained she is, regardless of the relationship itself. She’s pained because Louis is.
And given what she’s lived through on top of that? Clementine would absolutely put 100% in a relationship, enough to match someone like Violet.
There is another reason to this why, and the thought struck me when I was reminded of an easter egg during Violet and Clementine’s scene up on the belltower. A constellation, which Clementine can draw for herself, and he’ll wink right back at her:
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Kenny.
This connection is an interesting one to make for a scene with Violet. It’s cheeky first and foremost. 
Regardless, there’s a parallel drawn here. Violet and Kenny are very similar, in that…Kenny likely had BPD. TWDGhas two seasons, then a couple flashbacks, where we can read it so. That man was volatile himself. Fiercely loyal, but could absolutely flip on a dime if his perception of the people around did not align with what he desired—it’s why he’s so fickle with Lee, to the point the gameplay reflects it, and then Clementine as well, because this behavior was the ultimate antagonist. His spiral down mental health escalated, and escalated, and escalated.
And he’s guilty. Tells Clementine that to leave him, or to shoot him, is the right choice to make.
But should the two survive together, with dreams of driving down to Florida, we find that he…is okay. He’s stable. His anchorage with Clementine and A.J is strong, without ambivalence. In this storyline, she sees that with people like him, sticking around through the bullshit can be worth the trouble.
Of course, it’s also a testament whether or not it is worth it. Some people, including myself, left Kenny in S2. Because the turmoil through the season was just that significant.
He genuinely cares, but like my mom, Kenny still hurts. Especially in S2. Because despite himself, he just could never seem to get past what he felt, and his impulses.
Clementine’s relationship with Kenny varies across different choices made, and the interpretations thereof. My personal interpretation of Kenny will contrast wildly to another. And that’s okay.
But whatever the interpretation is, and the choices made, Clementine has experience with people like Violet. She’s lived through the type of behavior conditions BPD and alike bring. She knows how to navigate them, and find healthy grounds.
Clementine keeps an open line of communication with Violet. Expresses interest, and accepts what Violet herself has to offer. But she also has her boundaries. For one, A.J. He is her priority. Two, when Violet fights her, Clementine fights back because it’s not okay—do not lay a hand on me. Now, whether or not she would’ve fought like she did if there was no bomb, and A.J was still in the cell…
I don’t know. I assume it would’ve been one of those major choices of the game. Either talk her down, or fight.
…similar to what Lee has with Kenny, up in the attic after the house in Savannah is swarmed, or on the train before that.
Bringing Kenny into the conversation is…funny, in a way. At least to me. I write all this, because TWDG secured its place in my heart by being the very thing I needed through a really, really bad year where my mental health (BPD) reared its ugly head. TWDG as a whole, but S2 especially. I realize why so many people have issues with the season, and I get it. It’s only natural for that to happen when every season has its distinctive personality—not everyone will gel with its voice. That, and it does have its fair share of flaws.
But if it was not for S2, I would not be in the fandom. Because that season was 2019 boiled down to the pure chaos I inadvertently put myself through, and it did so by having me play a character who when she was taken seriously, she just could not do it right, then…, when she wasn’t, it was out of neglect, where the adults put themselves first. Every. Time. And…one of those adults was a blunt reflection of it all.
Up until the final moment. The breaking point.
It’s how I felt inside my head. And still do, sometimes. When I’m stuck inside a season rooted in instability—a winter—, things just keep happening, and there is no end, even though I try to maintain the fantasy of peace in those slow moments. But…there’s just no end. There’s only escalation.
It was something I needed to experience in isolation, where I understood that it’s just a game, and it’s within the scope of 7.5 hours.
Swiftly thereafter, I started writing. Because again, it’s what I’ve always done. So AYDF came to be, where Clementine’s an alcoholic, but not because she’s legitimately an alcoholic in the gameplay. I get she’s not; my Clementine is an alcoholic because…it’s an obscure remark of borderline, and an exploration wherein I thought to use an entirely different disorder to express such a thing. In part because I’d yet to really (re)consider BPD (it wasn’t until some time later that I understood), but also…I’m a storyteller. Having alcoholism represent BPD is interesting.
It’s all why I adore TWDG, and my Clementine, and ADYF. Together, they’re an anchor of mine.
Clementine and Violet’s relationship included, because I did not expect to find Violet. I knew about their relationship before playing—heard it whilst I did light research on which games to buy. But I didn’t expect to find a character who…also emulates what S2 did for me. Just, in a more matured light than who I was in 2019. Also didn’t expect the relationship to provide growth for my Clementine in regards to these personalities, because mine did absolutely struggle the first time—with Kenny, and the devastating choice she made.
Cuz like.
Oops. A.J’s still alive. Um. Whelp.
(…for context—because I know the assumption—, no, Jane was not there. I left S2 with both her and Kenny dead. Clementine just shot the last adult who could’ve helped A.J.)
To see the chances where Clementine is the person Violet needed—to treat her well—, and take those chances, I didn’t expect to find Violentine as this embodiment of a healthy relationship despite borderline. It’s not perfect—obviously it’s not—, but all things considered, it is healthy by the end, no matter the route.
It’s regardless of whether or not Violet actually has BPD. She’s not diagnosed, and I don’t intend to have her be diagnosed. But at the same time…, this essay kinda makes it clear that Violet is a textbook example anyway. A good one to me.
And a good one to A.J.
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[A.J, & Serving an Example]
Throughout this essay, the priority has been clarifying BPD, and unveiling what it feels like. A mechanism that may lead to the disorder, then the mechanisms that the disorder itself deploys. How it effects the person, in their identity or, most notably with Violet, relationships.
And the way Violet articulates herself, through the several dialogue lines within this post, it is evident that she’s aware. There’s a self-deprecation to it, but, Violet knows her issues and what it does, whether or not she knows its name—BPD, or something else entirely. Given the ambiguity that the game allows, it is still left unsaid.
But that’s the first thing: she does talk about it. Violet knows herself well enough to.
Not only that, she demonstrates a responsibility in her disorder.
With this essay, there hasn’t been much in the way of responsibility. Because it isn’t until A.J enters the discussion do we truly see this come to light.
I will be the first to say that, while I can sympathize with other people of the diagnosis—even empathize—, I am rather critical when it comes to being responsible of our actions. From knowing a trigger but being around it anyway, to refusing to communicate when a hand reaches out—there’s issues I take. Because there are things that needs to be done with BPD, and those are not it.
The fact of the matter is, sorry, it fucking sucks. But also, it is your disorder, as it is mine. It isn’t your fault that it happened, but it did, and you’re kinda just stuck living with it. It’s not the responsibility of anyone else to fix and manage every aspect of BPD.
Finding people like Clementine, or a support system like the schoolkids, will do wonders because, yes, they can help. But Clementine, and the schoolkids, also have their fair share of shit. To expect them to drop everything is unfair, the same way that being expected to just drop your BPD for someone else’s sake is unfair. 
It’s a give and take. There will be a ceaseless line of dialogue in the name of boundaries, and clarification, and everything in between.
So we return to Violet’s apology to Clementine.
“I wanted to wait ‘til you were up and about, but how I behaved on the boat… It was really unfair. My head was so messed up—by Lilly, and… And Minnie. I was so wrapped up in my own shit…” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]
She doesn’t excuse it. Violet gives reason—and that reason is, more or less, she was not in a right mind—, and she articulates what position she was in, but there is no excuse.
Because the difference between an excuse, and an apology, is that one is done with the intention to be forgiven, the other is done with the intention to resolve—the forgiveness is a hope, not the reward.
Being able to do such a thing, unprompted, speaks volumes to Violet’s maturity, and her understanding of her own mental health. For people with BPD, more often than not, it’s easier to blame someone else because…looking inward, and realizing you royally fucked up again is not easy. Or, it’s easier to use apologies to seek a reward—like forgiveness—, and to indulge in a brief gratification that may ensure a person stays.
Well, okay. The same can really be said for everyone. BPD, however, does has its way in amplification.
Nevertheless, A.J is able to witness this moment, take it in. It’s a lesson in itself.
But given Violet is saved, and Louis is mute, there is another moment which not only speaks volumes, but it serves to A.J clarity.
After the last meal shared in the game series, and Violet with Clementine deliberates over a caravan, A.J can ask Violet one thing:
“Aren’t you still mad I killed Tenn?” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]
It’s a fresh wound for her. The pain of it is laid clear across Violet’s face. However, in response,
“The thing you said on the bridge…, that he was messing up all the time. It wasn’t something new, you know. Tenn got himself or other people into trouble all the time, long before you guys got here. He was always so lost. He lived in a world that just…isn’t there, you know? And that’s why I tried to look after him. But when I was pulling him away from the walkers, and Minnie, I could also see…he just wasn’t there anymore.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]
Or, it’s complicated, but she understands why. Violet is able to acknowledge where A.J comes from. She does, and she sets aside her emotions. There is no corrosion here. Violet doesn’t devalue A.J for this, even though the gravity of his choice would’ve provided a validity. A warped and intense validity, but one all the same.
They trade more words, and amongst them, Violet asks a damning question, and A.J accepts:
[A.J] “So you’re mad, but sad.” [Violet] “Can I be that for a while?” [A.J] “Yeah, it’s okay.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]
A.J acknowledges her. She asks for further acknowledgement—the time to heal.
And he understands, and he allows her the room.
…the thing about Violet and A.J, in contrast to Louis and A.J, is that A.J looks up to these characters for very different reasons. Louis is a great guy. I want A.J to be like him, or better yet, a matured version of Louis. He’s charming, charismatic, good-natured, and through the game, we do see that he begins to donate an effort to do better.
Really, it’s not a mystery as to why A.J grew attached so quickly.
Violet, meanwhile, is confusing. She’s not that great with people, is instead a bit of a pill to swallow, and with her trauma comes a volatility.
Sure, she was the one who stood-up for Clementine and A.J when Louis didn’t, but in playing this season, I’ve always gotten the implication that A.J—at least initially—does have a preference for Louis. And I say implication because it’s never said outright, but there are some dialogues and reactions of his that had me wonder. I also don’t mean he doesn’t like Violet, no, but more that he doesn’t necessarily understand what Clementine sees in her.
At least, that isn’t until time passes, and more is spent with Violet, does she start to grow on him as well.
Louis models a more…digestible person. He has his problems, but they are easy to explain and understand. He was a spoiled brat. He sabotaged a marriage over something so very petty. And now, where his upbringing still rears its head through his immature work ethic, he struggles with deep insecurities.
There is a complexity here. One that does deserve its own essay, though I’m not really the right person for that. (Here’s an essay, by @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale. Pretty good. And they gots a lot of essays like it. …but also, again, sorry for tagging; I know this is absurdly long. Lol.)
Violet, meanwhile, comes with a confusion because her issues are so steeped in stigma. Which is to be expected in conditions like BPD, where…yeah, there’s the chance she will lash out, do things she doesn’t mean, because a switch was flipped.
Where Louis is someone that A.J would like to aspire to, Violet seem to stand as a figure A.J can grow to appreciate. Having her as a model gives A.J the chance to understand that with people like Violet, you give them space and time. Work with them, and if they are genuine people, they will prove themselves worth the effort.
It does take effort, however, and the time spent with them.
And if there is no effort given, and no time spent…
Yeah. Violet will be that wallflower.
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[Conclusion]
There’s nothing else this essay really has to say at its core. BPD is a very, very confusing disorder. Both internally, and externally. Stigma doesn’t help. It is, after all, a huge reason why I wrote this.
Because the stigma is quite honestly the worst thing about BPD. In many resources—whether they’re linked below, or you find them on your own—, you’ll find that a BPD diagnosis often comes with others right along with it. Addictions, eating disorders, depression…
To those who don’t know better (or maybe they do), that’s just…natural. It’s how it is.
But I remember going to my family, telling them that there is something wrong, only…to be assured otherwise. Not for my sake, but for theirs. Because BPD isn’t greatly understood, and when it is, realizing that none of them got to save me from my mother in time has its way in denial. What my mother did wasn’t right, however, I could’ve ended up like her. 
Just not through those initial traumas.
Rather, I could’ve, had I made the same mistakes she did with the silent traumas thereafter—decades, now, where the people around me refuse to acknowledge my words, and listen to me, because I know the look in the eye, and I sometimes find it in the mirror. Those initial traumas may have been the first lashing, but it’s the time after which seals BPD within a person. Because the condition goes unchecked. It ferments. People tell you one thing, but you feel another, and as a child, you decide to trust their word, not your own body. Which breaks you. Gets to a point where there’s no real return, because people like me weren’t allowed to learn otherwise.
Understanding what happened to me was a very lonely experience, despite the sheer amount of people I had around me.
…and it hurts, somewhere deep in the recesses of my alexithymia, that my abuse never came from people who hated me. My mother didn’t, not in those initial years. None of my family did, in the decades into adulthood. But still, they hurt. The abuse came from the people I least want to admit, in ways that media would deem too boring for our idled attention spans.
I proclaimed that BPD is when a mechanism deploys, and the cost means a sacrifice of one integral function. It is still true—the mechanism, alongside the personality, and that specific initial trauma will influence how that BPD is expressed.
Yet, Borderline Personality Disorder happens when a mechanism deploys at a great cost, and that sacrifice is never restored. It is the neglect of the individual’s emotional turmoil after catastrophe that does it, where the same mechanism festers until it is there to stay as an ugly, depraved scar.
It is the disorder where a person was never allowed to heal, despite the mind and body screaming that they need to.
So when I hear BPD and the diagnoses alongside, I hear yet another time where someone likely knew there was something wrong, but they chose to find stability by other means, because it wasn’t found in the people around. Addictions bring those dopamine hits that BPD elevates. Eating disorders, where maybe…they can find something about themselves to control. Because there is none day to day, nor in relationships. And depression? Honestly, it speaks for itself; if a person manages to find themselves with a tumultuous anchor, or no anchor at all, it’s easy to slip into.
Or, if the diagnoses are born conditions, like ADHD or autism, or others, like schizophrenia, those speak to a concern where those conditions were left unchecked, and they festered as BPD, they were what predisposed it…
Yet, when I hear a story like Violet’s, it is a true reassurance.
Sure she’s not diagnosed. But still. The game doesn’t hide anything. It doesn’t “assure” the player that Violet isn’t this type of person, that she isn’t literally sick in the head.
TFS shows her issues quite plainly. And it’s because it does, and refuses to lie to make anyone feel better, does the game promise something that is so, so desperately yearned for in those with borderline.
It’s acknowledgement.
To tell someone that, yes, you’re not confused that you feel confused amid a chaos. You are. But there are ways to work with it, and around it. You can, actually, have strong relationships with people, and in those like Clementine, even if/when you fail, they will stay, because they understand.
To tell someone all of that is a first step towards understanding BPD, a disorder so shrouded because of stigma, and little else.
And so you have a character who still has her struggles with it, but she has a support system, and she’s taught herself enough to manage—did it well, considering the circumstances. She was left to her own devices. Sure, she had her grandparents to escape from home, but…, well. Yeah. After her grandma, Violet was then sent straight to the boarding school. The apocalypse struck. The adults left. And though her community still cherishes her, Violet…was designated as their wallflower.
So it’s funny, to have found this character this way, because Louis was right.
Violet does grow on you. If you let her, anyway. She can be suffocating.
Anyway. Hope you enjoyed.
Volt out.
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Volt's Library (my writing) Clem Comic Essay #1 (canon stuff) Clem Comic Essay #2 (language)
Links: to start your own research
BPD (General) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 (4 types); 4 (quiet BPD)
BPD (Stigma) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 (r/BPD)
BPD (Anchors/FP) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 (r/BPD)
BPD vs Bipolar | 1 ; 2 ; 3 (comorbid BPD & Bipolar)
BPD (Identity Disturbance) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 (r/BPD)
BPD (in Relationships) | 1 ; 2 ; 3
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thelaughtercafe · 4 months
Text
Angel
Tea Type: Half and Half (This one was written to vent so it's got a little more hurt towards the beginning than usual)
Potential Triggers: Nonspecific mentions of emotional abuse
Pairing: Duncan/ F!Reader
Length: 1k+
Summary: You and Duncan are both desperately trying to stay awake for the challenge. The lack of filter allows confessions to slip from both of you.
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“Ugh I’m starting to go. Can you help keep me awake?”
Duncan looked over and blinked in surprise. You hadn’t spoken much the past weeks save him teasing as he did with most of the girls. You didn’t outwardly encourage it but he could admit he got pleasure out of your flustered reactions to keep it up consistently with no provocation. 
A smirk twitched onto his lips as he moved to where you were sat leaning against a tree trunk a little ways from the main group. 
“Sure thing sweetheart. Tell me what I can do.”
You were already a blushing mess. It’d taken a great deal of courage to even ask but already you were growing meek again.  
“Well I…um…sorry.”
He softened a little after a glance over his shoulder, tugging you to sit behind the tree with him. Everyone was mostly sleeping and this way no-one would see his expressions before he heard them coming in advance. He didn’t want anyone hearing him like this. Hell, he typically wouldn’t ever dream of being like this but the lack of sleep was impairing his judgment. 
“Why do you do that? You constantly apologize for stuff that’s not even your fault. Or without having even done anything wrong at all. It makes you look weak.”
It wasn’t the nicest way to say it maybe but Duncan was trying. 
You looked down to your fidgeting hands and smiled bitterly.
“It’s not exactly a happy reason; but you don’t seem like the kind of guy to pity people so I guess it’s alright if I tell you. Let’s just say my home life wasn’t great. My mom was sick so I was left to do all the chores and such. Her long term boyfriend was quick to put me down and point out the smallest of inadequacies in my efforts.”
You shrugged before looking at the camera across the way and giving it the finger. 
“That’s for you if you’re watching this, dick.”
God, you really were tired. Your filter was gone. Luckily, your attention was shifted to Duncan as he smiled at you and lightly placed his hand on yours.  
“Well I say he’s lucky. If it was me I would’ve stopped doing them altogether. Guy sounds like a real piece of work." 
You turned your gaze to his and he noticed the hint of sadness within. 
"Which is why you’re the strongest person I know. That’s actually the first time I told him to fuck off. After making me spiral into panic attacks, giving me arachnophobia, and making me hate myself it still took me being on the verge of passing out on a reality show talking with a bad boy with a heart of gold to get the courage. Pathetic. isn’t it?" 
Duncan clenched his fists but managed his anger with a breath, trying not to blush at your honesty. 
"Right. You really think of me like that sweetheart?’
The typically antagonistic nickname now sounded sweet. 
You shrugged, finding it much easier to talk when not looking at him as you put your head on his shoulder. 
”‘Course I do. You may act all mean but you want us to win too. I don’t think you’re half as cruel as you pretend to be. You’re here comforting me and keeping me awake aren’t you?“
You yawned and he scoffed, glad you couldn’t see his face as a tinge of pink surely was evident. 
"Could just be doing it to get further in the competition. More chance our team wins if there’s two of us.”
You shrugged. 
“Sure. You could be. But I doubt it. I have a bad habit of only seeing the good in people and ignoring my gut feelings. But here on the island I’ve learned to start listening to it more. And right now it’s telling me you’re a good guy. It always has.”
Duncan sighed and looked down in amusement at you now fully cuddled into his side. He curled an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer but when he felt your breaths start to slow he ran his fingers along your neck for a moment in warning. 
“Hey. Don’t fall asleep k?”
You jerked in his grip and giggled which made him blink.  
Huh. 
He noted the way you suddenly looked nervous, and the way your face had gone red. In addition to your eyes flicking everywhere looking for escape, a smug smirk crawled across his face. 
“Oh princess~ Got something you wanna tell me?”
He felt you stiffen and you giggled nervously again, clearly jumpy. 
God you were precious. 
“N-No! I just-I-thanks for helping but I-”
As you were about to scramble away he quickly turned to pin you against the tree, easily restraining your wrists over your head with one hand and leering over you.  
“You may as well give it up. I know you’re ticklish. Sure would be a shame if I let you fall asleep now ya know? Time to fulfill your duty to the team like the angel you are~”
Oh God. Time to pretend he didn’t just say that last part. Distract!
“D-Did you just-hey whahahahait!! Duncan!!”
You dissolved into squeals and giggles as his free hand began squeezing along your thighs suddenly regretting wearing shorts.
“You are such a jheheheherk!!”
Glad his moment of softness had been forgotten Duncan easily returned to teasing, feigning innocence.
“Oh? But I thought you were so sure I was a nice guy. Looks like your feelings were wrong. Good thing you have a thing for bad boys huh angel?”
He relished in the way you went even darker and sputtered over your laughter.
“N-No I-what!? That’s-crazy talk!”
“Your blush tells a different story. Plus, I’ve caught you stealing glances all summer. Lucky for you I like good girls just as much. Even called dibs in the boys cabin. Trent almost beat me to you but lucky for me he got more into Gwen around the same time which means you’re all mine if you want to be, angel.”
While he was talking casually his hands were moving easily all over, from your thighs to your hips up to your underarms and then to your neck where he opted to stay, keeping you in steady giggles as he waited for your response. 
You rolled your eyes before smirking back. 
“F-Fhihihine then. Gonna make me fhahahall demon boy?”
He grinned, full of roguish charm as his fingers finally slowed and he released your hands to cup your face in his palms and then seal your promise. 
“Only if you’re sure you’re ready for it sweetheart.”
No-one would find out until a few competitions later; when he got sick of hiding and kissed you so hard you swooned after a win you somehow managed to pull off. 
All insecure thoughts of him caring more about his bad boy image than you were  banished and it suddenly made sense to Courtney and Gwen why the nicknames, however passive aggressive, had stopped. They were all for you.  
Angel was still his favorite of course.
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louiseintrees · 1 year
Text
He’s An Idiot If He Isn’t In Love With You Yet
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Finally after a long amount of touring everything was at rest for a bit. So, to celebrate our new founded freedom we all went and got drinks. The band, and their lovers and a couple of friends, me falling in the friend category.
At the moment I was sat next to Alexa—who fell into the lovers category—and we both sat looking over the band. Matt sitting with Breana holding her close. And Jamie and Katie sitting together somewhere far away probably planning on going home soon. And Alex talking with Matt as he sipped on his drink.
“So, how long have you known Alex?” Alexa asked looking over at me holding her drink in her hand fiddling with it more than she was drinking it.
“Since the early years of primary school. I used to live in England because of my dad and we met. I’m honestly shocked we’ve lasted this long but I’m not complaining.” I stated looking over her.
“What was he like before the fame? I mean I imagine some things have changed since then, right?” She questioned.
“To be honest with you not much has changed. Less piano playing now, and he’s definitely gotten a bit more anxious but he’s still him.” I stated looking at her.
“He played piano?” She quizzed confusion on her face.
“Yeah until he was eight, did he not tell you?”
“No, I’ve never heard this.” She spoke looking confused still, a bit of disbelief at my statements.
“Yeah he played until he was eight and then he quit, calling it stupid and boring. His teacher was my teacher so we’d always complain about her. She was an old lady Mrs. Anderson and for some reason she really hated Alex, I’m pretty sure it had something to do with when he stole her dog and ran around the neighbourhood with it, but you didn’t hear that from me.” I giggled. “But anyway, he hated her so much and she would always give him hard pieces and then eventually he quit. But I was stuck still taking lessons which was kind of lame but that’s besides the point. When he was younger he had this big crush on some mystery girl he refused to tell me the name of, but he kept practicing pieces for her and then he planned this whole thing and the girl was, Sydney Thompson, and he invited her to his house and played her a piece and then he had his second ever kiss with a girl, it was honestly pretty elaborate for a ten year old. I have to admit.”
Alexa and I laughed together at the story.
“Who was his first kiss?” She questioned.
“Oh…well, me. We were in I think our second year of school together and we thought that it would be smart to practice kissing because we wanted to be prepared but it went as well as six year old could do and after that we agreed kissing was gross and never do it again.” I laughed causing Alexa to giggle along with me.
“I’m glad I get to talk to you, I needed these stories.” She spoke looking over at the boy we were speaking about.
“You know we’re not going to make it.” She said softly enough for me to hear but not enough for people around us to hear.
“What? You an Alex are awesome. You guys are so in love it’s like Katie and Jamie again.” I said wondering where this was coming from.
“Don’t get me wrong I love him and he loves me but we’re living separate lives, and he’s changing, he’s still learning and growing, and I’m far past that stage in my life. And to be honestly after he gets over me if he doesn’t date you I’m simply going to die a salty woman.” She said the whole thing taking me back.
“I’m sorry about that, you guys seemed really perfect, together, you were both really happy.” I spoke trying to ignore the second part of what she said.
“You guys are the epitome of perfect. And this isn’t coming out of a jealous girlfriend. Me and him already are planning a split my stuff is being packed and moved, but you guys are something else. Don’t get me wrong he does love me, but I think he’s got something for you that isn’t so innocently platonic.” She stated with a smile.
“Really?” I said confusion written all over my face.
Alexa laughed and looked at me, “Really. He’s an idiot if he isn’t in love with you yet. If I were him we’d already be married.”
I honestly was speechless, I’ve always had a thing for Alex, who wouldn’t? But no one knew that because I bottled it up. I’m his wingman, and I’ve never felt he’s been interested but her word’s definitely made me think.
“I’m going to head home for the night, it was great talking to you seriously.” She spoke patting my shoulder leaving and saying her goodbyes to Alex.
I watched intently. I didn’t know what they were saying but she was saying goodbye. But there was no hug or kiss. Just a simple goodbye and she left, she left alone. That was very unlike them. I guess they really were splitting.
And now I couldn’t stop thinking. They were seriously breaking up, weren’t they? I thought for sure this was going to be Alex’s end game. I thought I’d be standing at some venue for his wedding soon but I guess I was wrong. And what was all of that he’s an idiot if he’s not in love with you stuff. That was so out of pocket. It felt trippy. Like this wasn’t reality but it was.
“Hey.” Alex spoke taking the seat where Alexa once sat.
“Hey.” I responded not being able to focus properly on him.
“You alright? You seem a bit distracted.” He stated leaning in a bit.
“Alex, are you and Alexa seriously breaking up?” I asked softly, like he would break if I spoke any louder.
His mouth fell slightly agape and he looked down to the floor.
“Did she tell you?” He questioned the energy in his voice depleting into nothing.
“Yeah, yeah she did.” I said softly. I felt I had to say something other than that. I held his hand that sat in the bar top and spoke, “I’m sorry Alex. Truly she was amazing.”
He held my hand back and looked over at it avoiding eye contact with me. He sighed and then started to speak, “It’s okay. I kind of saw it coming.”
“If you need anything call me, okay? Seriously, it sucks when you lose someone like that.”
“I will.” He spoke looking into his glass before looking up at me. “Hey, do you want to get out of here, go somewhere? This place is losing its fun very quickly.”
“Anything with you, Alex.”
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