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peachsayshi · 3 years

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Chapter 10 - Intimate (2)

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Angst, Fluff

Summary: Gojo uses you to relieve some of his stress after his little argument with your best friend, and poses a question that catches you off guard.

A/N: this chapter was a bit difficult for me to write and I think it's because it turned out to be sort of a filler chapter! Also, please excuse any errors - I am definitely posting this half asleep lol! but I am really excited to share the upcoming ones! I initially said that this was going to be 25 chapters but I outlined the rest of the story and there will be more! Hehe I do plan on doing the few extra one-shots in the end, so I hope you enjoy.

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“Tell me you’re mine…”

You blushed at the thought of Satoru’s words, painfully aware of the knot that tightened in the pit of your stomach which then tugged at your lungs, slowing your breath. You reached for the seasoning packets, ripping open the colored wrappers to prepare the ramen broth. You watched as tiny circles began to form from the bottom of the metal pot, bubbling it’s way to the surface. You could hear the shower still running from your bathroom, a bit relieved that Gojo was taking his time because you wanted to bask in the few precious minutes you had to yourself to try and quieten your racing thoughts.

You couldn’t focus on the task of preparing dinner because the word “mine” slipping from Gojo’s lips in a feverish claim was playing on a loop in your head. The way his tone darkened with urgency when he held his body close to yours sent goosebumps to run up your arms. You couldn’t figure out where the possessive streak came from or why he felt the need to assert his dominance over an act that should not have been as intimate as it felt. You folded your arms over your chest, subconsciously pinching your skin as you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

There was a difference when you made your own personal comparisons in the safety of your mind versus Gojo bringing it up in the bedroom. Somehow admitting your confession to him made you feel vulnerable and his reaction didn’t make it any better, appearing to be competitive about the entire situation.

That doesn’t make any sense, why would he care? you wondered.

You never actually paid attention to how Gojo felt about your ex-boyfriend. For the most part he’s always been nice to him. Although the two of them weren’t the closest of friends, they seemed to get along whenever you all hung out together. You never would have anticipated that Gojo would be…

Jealous of him ?

That he would resent him?

Honestly, you didn’t even have an explanation for what it could possibly mean.

“ Pay attention…”

Gojo’s voice startled you, you didn’t even realise he was standing right behind you until you noticed him reach his arm forward to reduce the flame, stopping the water from bubbling over the pot.

“Whoops! Lost my train of thought for a second...” you lied, refusing to look in his direction in the hopes that he wouldn’t catch you blushing.

“That’s a safety hazard, you know?” he teased, still standing dangerously close behind you as he reached for the dry noodles himself and placed them into the pot. “You need sharp eyes when cooking otherwise you’ll end up having an unnecessary accident.”

A nervous chuckle escaped you as you circled to face him. Gojo had borrowed one of your black silk scarves, using it as a makeshift blindfold since his own was now tumbled between your bedsheets on the floor. You could smell your coconut and hibiscus body wash off him, the scent combining with the residual cologne on his clothes. An easy smile spread across that handsome face, his relaxed demeanor contrasting the state he was in when he first knocked on your door.

He’s your friend, you reminded yourself. What happens in the bedroom doesn’t mean anything…

It shouldn’t mean anything.

“Whatever you say, sensei ...” you chirped, burying your wayward thoughts. “Why don’t you grab those mats and I’ll bring these over to the table”

You assembled the two bowls, adding a little extra broth for Gojo because you knew he preferred it that way. Meanwhile, he had placed the two mats on the opposite side of the dining table, taking care not to disturb your work set up.

“Here you go,” you said, as you slid the bowl in front of him while he took his seat.

“Thank you!”

At first you both sat in silence, Gojo was responding to a few unanswered text messages but you were studying him with curious eyes, waiting for him to give you an explanation for his sudden visit.

“ Sooo, you want to tell me what that was all about?” you asked.

“That being?”

You waved your chopsticks in the direction of your bedroom, raising your brow before replying, “That being the sequence of events that just transpired…”

“ Stress relief ...” Gojo explained in between bites as he casually tucked his phone back into his pocket.

You thrummed your fingers against the warm bowl in your hands, fidgeting with the chopsticks in the other. “Well, I’m glad I could help you unwind, I guess...”

He flashed you a wicked grin, “Me too, because I need a repeat of the show...”

“I can’t look at you when you say that,” you remarked, focusing your attention onto the noodles and growing shy at his comment.

“Am I embarrassing you?”

“A little…”

“I don’t understand why, that was fucking hot ...”

Your face burned, the heat radiating all the way to the back of your neck from his words. You cleared your throat as you rolled your eyes at him, desperately trying to brush off his statement in a cool manner. You could feel the knot in your stomach, the thoughts you were having crept back into your mind as you tried to hush them away.

You decided to shift the conversation away from the bedroom and back to Gojo instead. If he wasn’t so flustered by his own emotions, you might have accepted his excuse of needing to relieve stress but you knew there was more to the story.

“Did something happen at work?” you questioned.

Gojo chuckled to himself, “It’s funny how you won’t even acknowledge my compliment... ”

“Are you really going to make me pry a proper answer out of you?” you huffed, and he could hear your annoyance in your tone.

Gojo wished that he didn’t have to get into this particular part of the conversation with you, knowing full well how it was going to bring down the mood.

“No, nothing happened at work,” he said with a sigh, “I was with Rina. She asked me to stop by her shop…”

You knitted your brows in confusion, “That’s kind of random.”

Gojo nodded his head, “I thought so too. She initially told me that she wanted to get my opinion on some new items she was dropping for her menu. Turns out I was only there because she wanted to know how long you and I have been sleeping together for…”

You choked at his statement, his nonchalant words nearly going over your head.

Gojo kept eating, unphased by your reaction. “Need some water?”

“Y-yes…no, ugh, nevermind …she asked you how …”

“ How long you and I have been fucking… ” Gojo replied, flicking his index finger back between you both to fully clarify his statement.

The knot in your stomach cinched, a wave of nausea swirling in your gut as you placed your chopsticks down.

“How... how did she even find out? ” you whispered to yourself as you slumped against the back of your chair.

“She saw us at the park.”

“ Oh .”

You and Rina have both had your fair share of arguments before but sometimes when her emotions got the better of her, Rina’s outbursts often came with her sharp tongue. Over the years you had to explain to her that her words carried more weight than she thought, and in turn she became more conscious around you. However it suddenly dawned on you that Gojo might have been on the receiving end of Rina’s unfiltered anger.

You covered your face with your hands, groaning with frustration. “What did she say?”

“ Hmm ?”

“What did Rina say to you?”

Gojo shrugged his shoulders, “don’t worry about what she said to me. I know she didn’t mean anything by it...”

“But you were upset when you got here…”

“Let’s clarify something, Rina was upset because she was hurt. I was just annoyed by the situation. There’s a difference...”

You wished he would take your conversation a little more seriously and not brush it off with such ease but sighed knowing full well that Gojo wasn’t going to tell you what exactly happened which meant that Rina must have said something deliberately hurtful towards him.

“ I’m sorry… ”

“Why are you apologizing?”

You picked up your utensils, “For dragging you into this unnecessary drama I started. I should have just told Rina what was going on between us…”

Gojo paused after slurping a noodle, “well, why didn’t you tell her?”

“She’s been overprotective recently… ” you explained, not wanting to get into the details that the reason was purely based on your break up and how terrible you have been about getting over it. “I knew that if I told her about our arrangement she would analyze me to death over it and I didn’t want to deal with that…”

“Fair point,” Gojo acknowledged with a hum.

His short responses unsettled you, and you found yourself overcompensating to make up for it. “I’ll talk to her and smooth things over and I’ll make sure she apologizes for whatever it is that she said to you. She shouldn’t take her frustration out on you just because she was upset with me...”

Gojo nodded his head but you could clearly sense that he was not in the mood for any serious conversations right now. Taking himself out of this particular topic, Gojo quickly changed the subject after you made your last statement.

He kept the rest of the chat lighthearted, distracting your worries by telling you little anecdotes he had about his co-worker, Nanami. You suddenly found yourself giggling when Gojo revealed that he practically stalked Nanami for an entire day just so he could force the man to hang out him.

“I feel bad for the poor guy, you completely terrorize him,” you stated, clearing the table once you were both done eating.

You made your way over back to your kitchen where you rinsed off the bowls before placing it in the dishwasher. “You’re free to hang out if you want,” you offered, noticing Gojo get himself together as he was preparing to leave.

“I think I distracted you enough for tonight,” he replied.

You walked him to the door, following in line with his long strides. Just as he was about to reach the handle of your front door, he stopped before turning to face you.

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation about what is going on between us,” he stated, his voice low and serious.

You blinked a couple of times in surprise before parting your lips to respond, “I know I don't owe anyone an explanation but I know what Rina’s feeling and the only way I can see myself fixing this problem is by telling her everything. We never keep secrets from each other and I would probably be equally as hurt if she chose to hide something from me too... ”

Gojo pressed his lips together, navigating the words floating in his mind before reaching his hand out to touch your fingers.

“I get it but I just…”

“ Just ?...”

He exhaled, “I don’t want you overthinking anything between us, okay?”

“Don’t worry, even though we are terrible at sticking to our own rules, I am fully aware of where we both stand…”

You notice the relief wash over Gojo’s face as he slips his fingers away from your touch, “Good, because I like what we are doing.”

“I-I like it too…” you replied almost instantly, your heart racing at your own admittance.

The sorcerer left you a bundle of nerves when he said his goodbye. The knot in your stomach made its presence known, twining itself around your insides as you couldn’t escape this foreign emotion that seemed to have infiltrated your body.

***

CHAPTER 11 - FRIENDS

#Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo x reader #Gojo Satoru x ofc #Gojo x ofc #Gojo Satoru x female reader #Gojo x female reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x rader #jjk x ofc #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fan fiction #Gojo Satoru #Gojo

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julek · 4 years

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inspired by @valdomarx‘s post

Geralt’s fought many monsters throughout the course of his life. He’s studied them closely, gathering information about their weak spots and their strenghts, the causes of their existence and the consequences their actions leave in their wake. He’s thoroughly injured many of them, leaving the monsters no other choice than to flee, to exile themselves into oblivion. He’s killed many, as well, mainly the lesser creatures, whose understanding of the living and their intentions is so basic and sparse, not even a patient and dedicated Witcher can make them leave without spearing silver through their bodies. He’s seen monsters, felt them against his skin, carried their severed heads or dangling limbs as proof.

He’s never talked to one.

Sure, he’s sat down on a mushroom-covered log and gesticulated wildly at a group of trolls that were very keen on not leaving the pond they’d taken residence in; he’s screamed at a noonwraith to stop dancing around him and finally take a corporeal form; he’d even tried, early in his training, to engage in conversation with a particularly stubborn drowner, to no avail. Talking to monsters for anything other than bargaining their leave, or allowing them a few last words —or screams, or growls— had never been Vesemir’s indication, not to Geralt’s recollection.

Well, it hadn’t been. Not until Jaskier came along.

Geralt has never had anyone trail after him with such innocent curiosity, smelling of jasmine and sweat but not of fear — never fear. He’s never had someone test his patience and his very extensive knowledge on monsters daily, never had to explain why both Basilisks and Harpies had wings, but they weren’t pretty little birds who just wanted to be loved, Jaskier.

He’s never had anyone pull at his heartstrings the way Jaskier has, either.

It’s infuriating, really; he’s a Witcher, he’s never wanted anything for himself. Never found something worth keeping. But when Jaskier makes it clear he’s not leaving, not even if Geralt comes to him smelling of death and decay, twigs and blood and something else entwined in his hair, Geralt finds himself stuttering, his breath catching in his throat. He never asked —never would— but Jaskier gave him an answer anyway. It’s in the way the corner of his lips go up whenever Geralt gives in and makes a joke, it’s in the way Jaskier’s body seeks his warmth during the night, inevitably tangling their legs together. It’s in the way Jaskier’s eyes light up when they reunite after the winter, nothing but pure joy and relief overwhelming Geralt’s senses as he’s wrapped in a warm embrace.

It would be awfully presumptuous of Geralt to dive headfirst into his own feelings without being sure Jaskier feels the same, but that doesn’t stop him. He finds himself stealing glances at the bard during his performances, watching him in his element. He starts to ration their food to favor the bard, almost subconsciously, always giving him the juiciest pieces of meat and the freshest fruit he can find. He catches himself offering Roach the minute Jaskier’s scent turns sour with pain, either from a roaring hangover or from walking in those gods-awful boots he insists on wearing, the ones that accent his breeches and pair really well with the color of his hair—

And just as he’d feared, Geralt starts losing focus. Important things slip from his mind, and anything that doesn’t involve Jaskier’s choice of soap or doublet or undershirt flies right over his head at a worring pace. It’s not a curse, that he knows with certainty. The pull he feels in his gut whenever Jaskier’s away has nothing to do with magic, the feeling of contentedness that stretches over his chest when they’re together is not potion-induced.

They’re in a small hamlet near Vizima when Geralt snaps.

It’s dark, stars reflecting on the swamp. Geralt’s sitting behind a log covered in moss, not far from where he first heard footsteps approaching. He’s stalking a zombie, which is an easy task even though he hasn’t encountered many over the years. From what he’s gathered, zombies are rather innocuous, non-sentient creatures, usually in search of bones or small animals to take to their Bokor, their creator, whom they submit to. He’s not sure if such a small town could even host such a powerful sorcerer, but he��s not ready to rule out that possibility yet.

The zombie staggers across the forest floor, its movements slow and uncoordinated. It’s muttering something under its breath as it bends down to grab a small spider, crushing it between its bony fingers. The zombie stands tall again, but stills as Geralt’s sword is pressed against its exposed breastbone, the zombie’s eyesockets boring into Geralt’s face.

“Show me your hands,” Geralt grunts, careful not to press his sword too far, lest the creature dissolves under its weight.

Surprisingly, the zombie nods and puts its hands up, rotting flesh hanging from its fingers. They’re empty, and Geralt thinks he’s caught it just at the beginning of its hunt. He crouches down to check the ground, sword still in hand.

“You smell terribly, by the way. Jaskier would surely recoil,” he says with a chuckle, his mind conjuring up the image of Jaskier’s nose scrunching up in disgust. “Yes, if he were here, he’d kill you in a heartbeat, just to get away from the stench. Then he’d write a song about it, so your reputation would be truly lost.”

He picks up the spider corpse and inspects it closely.

“He’s very delicate, you see,” he tucks the spider away in his pocket, “like a flower. I’m no poet, but he really is beautiful like a flower. A rose, maybe.”

He stands tall, ignoring the way the zombie’s mouth hangs open.

“Yes... a rose is pretty and smells good,” he reckons, leaning his weight on the zombie’s chest. “Jaskier always smells good, and he always looks beautiful. And he’s so good to me, you know. He sees good in everyone. I’m sure he’d even see something good in you.”

The zombie hums, a low sound slowly making its way out of the zombie’s mouth, but Geralt cuts it off with a dreamy sigh.

“And it’s just so hard to work now. I can’t even concentrate during a hunt, because he’s made a habit of hugging me before a contract, for luck, you know, and when I move too fast I catch his scent on my skin, and I just can’t—”

“Kill,” the zombie slurrs, its face twisting with effort to get the word out.

Geralt’s eyes widen, golden slits shining in the dark. “Did you just speak to me?”

The zombie ignores him and moves its hand up, aiming for a weary gesture.

“J-just... kill me,” it pleads. “Please.”

Geralt frowns. He can’t recall the last time —if ever— he’s had a monster request him to end their existence. He usually has to fight his way through, and there’s more blood and guts and swords involved. Modern times, he thinks, everyone’s a critic.

He shrugs and drags his sword up, splitting the zombie in two. It falls gracelessly to the ground, and Geralt can swear he hears the bones rattling in relief.

“Rude,” he says as he gathers the bones in a bag, proof to take to the alderman. He’s never had a monster critique his hunting technique, so he’s not sure how to react — what would Vesemir say, hearing a zombie speak to him like that?

He clicks his tongue and makes his way out of the forest. In the distance, he can see a candle burning in the top window of the inn, can almost imagine Jaskier trying not to fall asleep to hear all about his heroics the minute he walks in.

He smiles, and makes a mental note to add to his bestiary. Zombies — sentient. Eager to engage in conversation. Nosy.

#mywriting #geraskier ficlet #geralt x jaskier #i saw george's post and had to drop everything and write this #never was hunting so easy as when geralt's lamenting through the forests #killjoy

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babygirl06301 · 3 years

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When Did Dean Fall In Love With Cas?

tl;dr: S11

I’ve wanted to talk about this since the show ended and the Spanish dub that broke Tumblr came out. So, when did Dean Winchester fall in love with Castiel?

This is entirely my opinion of course, and I know there are some people that will say it was right away or that it never happened at all, but I wanted to put my thoughts out there so other people could tell me their thoughts, too. I’ll probably get off on some tangents here and there, so feel free to send me any Destiel thoughts you’ve got.

Also, it’s worth noting that, to me, there’s a difference between falling in love and actually being in love. I mean, if you’ve fallen in love with someone, every point in your relationship has been a stepping stone to that point, so I guess it’s all abstract, but still. Hence, S11 being my answer to this question.

Keep in mind I’m doing this without the benefit of a recent rewatch, so I may miss some behaviors from Dean that would change a few things.

Warning: sappy stuff ahead; read at your own risk (also crappy images).

S4-5

I don’t think it’s that big of a secret that Dean attached himself to Cas, like, right away. I mean, the dude never talks about his emotions, and yet, it took eight episodes of Cas being around for Dean to break down in front of him and talk about his fears. It’s almost like you could say that’s because they were always meant to fall for each other.

However, I don’t really the think the process of falling in love with Cas had started yet. I do think that Dean cared about Cas, but I don’t think it was anything extremely special. Reason being: it was the literal end times and Dean didn’t have that type of time. That, and I think there’s something to be said for being raised a certain way and believing certain things about yourself that affects how long it takes for you to notice that something has changed. So, yeah. I don’t think Cas had been around long enough at this point for Dean to start feeling anything more than kinship with him.

That’s not to say, though, that Dean didn’t subconsciously find Cas hot or get the warm fuzzies sometimes because:

I mean, come on.

S6-7

So, this era is weird because I do think something had begun to change in how Dean saw Cas, but I don’t think he got to fully begin the process of falling in love with him because: a.) Cas betrayed them and b.) Sam’s head was broken.

I’m gonna say something rude now: I think a lot of the Destiel moments in the beginning of S6 were born of Dean needing Castiel’s abilities as an angel and not of needing Cas. For example, Dean calling on Cas to help with the Staff of Moses or with Soulless!Sam. He was usually pretty demanding and sometimes curt with Cas and got irritable when Cas couldn’t help.

However, I think that Cas always being there despite his battle in Heaven began to shift Dean’s feelings toward him. I do think this change was almost imperceptible, but you can see Dean showing more and more concern for Cas as S6 progresses. Like this:

This is the primary reason I think Dean got so defensive of Cas when Bobby and Sam started suggesting that Cas was working with Crowley. It’s also why he got so hurt when he found out that Bobby and Sam were right.

Here’s my super abstract and vague take on it: he’d started feeling romantic emotions for Cas, but as soon as Cas’s betrayal was revealed, it got replaced with pain. Basically, Dean almost started to fall for Cas in S6, and then the Purgatory storyline interrupted it.

And then Cas died. Which didn’t help.

Here we enter S7, which has fuck all for Destiel content beyond the first two episodes—until Cas comes back. I know some people are going to say not to gloss over the trench coat thing, and fair enough. I think the keeping of the trench coat was akin to Dean trying to hold onto what he did feel for Cas, obviously not consciously. Almost as though Dean could tell he’d lost something special when Cas died, and not just in losing Cas, but in losing part of himself, a part that he didn’t know existed yet. I don’t consider the trench coat to be a sign that Dean was falling in love with Cas but a sign that he was about to or that he could’ve. Is that weak? Whatever.

Now, I do think that some shit got shaken loose when Dean saw Cas again because, for all intents and purposes, he should’ve been pissed. But instead he was... whatever this is:

I still, more or less, think that he was too preoccupied with Sam to really begin falling in love with Cas. I think that’s clear to see in how he treated Cas after he came back into the story for the final battle with the Leviathan. He did give the whole “I’d rather have you” speech, but all the stuff before that was more along the lines of “Nobody cares that you’re broken, Cas! Clean up your mess!” So, yeah.

Okay, so this is where the Purgatory stuff comes in. In the words of the great John Mulaney, “we don’t have time to unpack all of that,” but this is where I believe Dean started falling in love with Cas.

Dean told Sam that Purgatory felt pure because he could only focus on the fight at all times... but he still had the emotional availability to worry about and search for Cas, so...

If I had to pick an exact moment, I’d say somewhere around here:

And thus, rather than just keeping a trench coat when he lost Cas, Dean literally rewired his own memories because he would rather think that he left Cas behind than think that Castiel chose to leave him.

From here, we can start seeing Dean paying attention to Cas more, noticing when he’s not being himself, and more than that, worrying about him in a more personal way. For instance, when Dean insists that Cas talk to him about what’s bothering him in “Hunteri Heroici.” Not to mention, Dean becomes a lot more emotionally vulnerable regarding his feelings for Cas. One example would be when he insists that he didn’t abandon Cas in Purgatory. Another would be, of course:

I would also mark this season as the season Dean’s prayers to Cas become more emotional and, at times, cathartic, as though he’s confiding in Cas. In “Remember the Titans,” for example, Dean prays to Cas to ask him to look out for Sam; the scene reads like Dean is asking for help but is, in equal measure, asking for Cas. This is also the first season an adversary pokes at Dean and Cas’s relationship in a way that specifically targets Dean and his feelings about Cas rather than Cas’s feelings about Dean as it had been before; this would be when Naomi says “You’re hoping Castiel will return to you.”

S9-S10

Well, these seasons are complicated to say the least because of Gadreel and the Mark of Cain. I don’t think, at this point, Dean ever stops feeling what he’s feeling for Cas. However, I do think that a lot of the hiccups throughout S9 and S10 made Dean step away from those feelings.

Of course, Dean is still stressing about Cas 24/7 in the beginning of S9 what with Cas being human, Cas being hunted, Cas dying, Cas working at a Gas-n-Sip—you know, drama. I think when Gadreel said that Cas needed to stay away if Dean wanted Sam to be healed, Dean had to let what he was feeling for Cas go—not that that means he stopped feeling it, mind you. No, I don’t think Dean consciously went, “Well, guess I’m done falling for this dude,” but I think he knew somewhere in his heart that it wasn’t the time.

Now, the Mark of Cain. The storyline that put the characters down on the page once and left them stagnant and unchanging until it was resolved. Now, as you might imagine, slowly turning into a demon that wants nothing but death would put a damper on any relationship. Finding Destiel in the B season for S9 and throughout S10 is hard. Especially on Dean’s end.

There are moments when you can tell that Dean’s feelings for Cas are still there, and I would say, developing slowly, like the cheeseburger date. Probably the biggest Destiel moment in the entire Mark of Cain stretch is when Dean nearly kills Cas but resists, despite the Mark’s hold on him.

That’s really it, though. No backwards movement, but barely anything trending the opposite way, either.

S11

This is the Big Season™, the one I believe Dean fell in love with Cas in. Now, obviously, it isn’t like Dean lost the Mark, and boom, fell in love with Cas. Plus, there’s the whole pull-to-Amara thing. However, I don’t think falling in love necessarily has to be a big moment; I think it can just happen, and I think that’s what happened with Dean. At some point between the start of this season and Cas being released from Lucifer’s possession, Dean fell in love with Cas.

That being said—if I was really reaching for a moment—I wouldn’t say it happened during a happy scene. I’d say Dean fell in love with Cas when he lost him.

I know that sounds weird, that Dean didn’t fall in love with Cas completely until he realized Cas had been possessed by Lucifer, but in my head, it fits. I think it’s because Dean is so emotionally closed off and tries not to let his emotions show if he can help it that it took knowing that Cas was gone for that last switch to flip in his heart.

So, now Dean is in love with Cas, but Cas is Lucifer. I’d say this has something to do with the fact that, even though Dean is supposed to be attached to Amara, he still calls out for Cas even though Amara is right in front of him.

Considering the fact that Cas comes back in the literal last episode—at least, that’s when Dean realizes he’s back—there isn’t a whole hell of a lot of time to see how being in love with Cas has changed Dean. We do get the “you’re our brother, Cas” scene, but seeing as how that’s pretty inconsistent with everything that comes afterward, let’s just chalk that one up to bad writing and/or Dean being dense.

S12

Alright, so my post should be done, yeah? I’ve answered the question I’ve set out to answer. However, there’s still more to talk about here. When did Dean first sense that what he felt for Cas was different? When did he have an inclination that it was romantic? When did he know for sure?

That’s why we’re here in S12. Now, S12 is the most Destiel-heavy season in the entire series. In my opinion, while it does have many of the best Destiel scenes, it doesn’t have the best Destiel scene. However, as far as number of moments, S12 takes it.

This is where we really get to see how being in love with Cas has changed Dean. Realistically, I think this has a lot to do with S12 being the beginning of the Dabb era because this era marked a change in tone for both Castiel’s character and his relationship with Dean. Dean began to worry about Cas a lot more frequently and, as a result, got mad at him a lot more, too. I see S12 as the season that Dean moved away from simply being worried about losing Cas to being terrified of losing Cas. And that translated into anger any time Castiel put himself in danger. For example, killing Billie. Any other time, the threat of losing Cas translated itself into fear, like when Cas nearly died from being stabbed with the Lance of Michael.

Of course, the mixtape is also in this season, which is another example of how being in love with Cas has affected Dean. I could probably make an entirely seperate and very long post regarding Destiel in S12, but the general idea is that Dean’s newly found love for Cas made a big difference in how he treated Cas.

S13

Alright, S13 stands outs to me because I believe this is when Dean first realized that Cas meant something more to him than a friend and that he felt differently about him than he did about his family. Again, I don’t think that Dean actually thought those exact words, but I think his heart knew them to be true even if he mind didn’t. Reason being: Cas had just died. Which is the first time Castiel has died since Dean fell in love with him. Dean knew he needed Cas, in a way he hadn’t really realized it before. Which is why he demands that Chuck bring him back.

Then Cas comes back, and it’s like Dean forgets what hopelessness and misery are because Cas is his “big win.” After this, honestly, there isn’t much else by way of emotional development for Dean regarding Cas, but I see that as a good thing. It’s a sign that, though Dean hasn’t realized it yet, being in love with Cas is comfortable for him. There are still expressions of concern for Cas’s wellbeing throughout the season, but mostly, we just get to see Dean be content with Cas.

S14

Alright, S14 a.) mostly saw Dean’s feelings much in the same place as they were in S13 and b.) just kidding because Dean tells Cas that he’s dead to him in this season.

To be fair, if we’re talking Destiel, there’s more of it on Castiel’s end this season than there is on Dean’s because Dean is dealing with Michael. There are a couple moments that stand out to me as moments where Dean’s love for Cas comes through: when Cas asks Dean if his plan to trap himself in the Ma’lak Box means that they’re supposed to say goodbye and when Dean confides in Cas about how he’s handling keeping Michael trapped. In the former scene especially, I think it’s clear to see how much the idea of saying goodbye to Cas affects Dean.

And then we get to “Absence,” which is the episode where Dean tells Cas that he’ll be dead to him if Jack killed Mary. Now, going off on a tangent here to explain how this ties into Dean being in love with Cas, let’s talk about when Dean gets mad at Cas.

When Dean gets mad at Castiel, it’s always out of pain. I think that’s a very unique effect that Cas has on Dean that no one else does, and I believe it’s because Dean gets so overwhelmed with the emotion of betrayal that all he can do is push Cas away. Why a feeling of betrayal? Well, in this case, it’s because Cas knew something was wrong with Jack and didn’t say anything. I think that, as Dean fell more and more in love with Cas, his expectations and feelings for him grew, and because of that, when he feels like he’s been let down by Cas, it turns into rage.

When Dean walks away from Sam, it’s usually because he’s either worried or angry. With Jack, he walked away because of anger, maybe even disgust. But with Cas, it’s always pain; it’s always because Dean feels like he’s been personally betrayed in a way that has nothing to do with worrying about Cas and everything to do with wanting to hurt Cas back. It’s almost a selfish sort of anger, which is actually a positive for Dean’s character since he rarely puts himself first.

To me, the way Dean gets mad at Cas—especially in S14—is so personal and unique that it serves as proof as to why Dean is in love with Cas. So, even though the “then you’re dead to me” line is so damaging, it’s still a result of Dean loving Cas.

S15

Last season. The hardest season by far, for a lot of reasons. I’m not going to get into the lack of closure the ending of this show gave us in terms of Dean and Castiel, and I’m not going to talk about this final season in conjunction with the Spanish dub—just what I, as an English speaker experienced in canon since that’s what was intended in the final cut—but I will talk about everything else. There’s three episodes/points I’m going to hit with this season, and I’m sure we all know them: “The Rupture,” “The Trap,” and “Despair.”

I’ve already discussed why Dean’s anger points to his being in love with Cas, but I think the important thing to note with “The Rupture” is that Dean still didn’t want to lose Cas, even in the moments when he was hurting Cas and pushing him away.

There’s still a couple questions I’ve asked that I haven’t answered yet, and one of them will be answered with “The Trap.” I think this episode—and really, the moment Cas told him he heard his prayer—marks the first time that Dean considered that his feelings might be romantic. I don’t know how clear those thoughts were or if Dean told himself he was wrong afterward, but I do think that that scene was the beginning of possibility for Dean and Cas. Had they had enough time, they would’ve decided to be together, and that scene is where they both really felt it for the first time—even if they didn’t believe the other felt the same way.

I’ll be honest: I really don’t want to talk about “Despair” because it’ll just make me sad. Alas, there is one question that still needs to be answered: When did Dean know that he was in love with Cas?

When it was already too late. Much like in S11, I think it took Dean losing Cas to realize how he felt about him. The difference here is: I think Dean would’ve realized it regardless; hearing how Cas felt about him and then losing Cas just forced it. Had Cas not died, I don’t believe it would’ve been too long before Dean realized it naturally, and that’s the most frustrating thing about this scene is that Dean didn’t have to learn how he felt through the trauma of losing Cas.

I’m not trying to diminish this scene because, had there been closure—and proper editing—I’d say this scene was the perfect avenue for Castiel’s character to go down because it would mean that, when he came back, he could be with Dean.

Again, I’m not getting into the semantics of the final couple episodes or how they handled Destiel because it’ll just make me mad, but I think Dean realizing he was in love with Cas was just as big of a factor in him seeing himself differently as Cas’s speech was. I think Dean wanted to honor Cas by being the person Castiel saw him as; I think Dean wanted to live as a man worthy of being loved by the man he fell in love with.

Anyway, that’s my take on when Dean Winchester fell in love with Castiel based on what canon gave us. As someone who had been very realistic about the possibility of Destiel over the years and had never truly hoped for it in canon because I knew better, I have never been more convinced that Dean is in love with Castiel as I am now, after the show has ended.

I don’t think I can say I believe he was in love with him all along, but I believe that his story, their story, of falling in love is real and true, however long it may have taken. I’ll never say goodbye to these two, but I’m happy that I can at least walk away from this show knowing that they found each other in the end, even if their ending didn’t do justice to their legacy.

Let me know when you think Dean fell in love Cas or vise versa. I’m curious to know what you see in their relationship. I don’t think I’ll be making a post like this for Castiel because, in my opinion, Cas fell in love with Dean rather quickly—his journey was just realizing what that meant. Anyway, thank you for reading this, and thank you for being a part of this twelve year long love story that is Destiel.

#destiel #casdean #cas x dean #dean x cas #dean winchester #castiel #spn #supernatural

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deliciously-yeeted · 3 years

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I was in desperate need of some beel fluff, so i wrote some. As one does. Uh, ive never done this,(posting fanfic, i normally jus write small things for myself tbh😅) before so please have mercy lol

I hope ya like it though, it put a smile on my face so im hoping it does the same for you♡

____________________________

You started filling the hem of your shirt with snacks, as many as you could fit in the scrunched up fabric that is, a tired but playful grin on your lips, as you thought over what you planned to do, mentally prepping yourself.

Normally, you're not so bold about seeking out comfort and such, feeling shy about showing vulnerability...but today, ugh, today had you particularly worn down. You needed something, affection preferably. You'd settle for a warm bath and some melatonin if you had to. Though, you really didnt want too.

You were tired of self soothing all the time. And Asmos care packages could only help so much. But you knew how to make it all magically better. There was only one option in times like these .

You worked quickly, excitement bouncing around in your gut, making your hands a little shaky.

Having grabbed all you could you carry, you practically dashed from the kitchen. Your mind set on finding a certain big demon. Last you heard, he was headed to his room for a bit. You hoped he was still there.

When you finally reached his bedroom door, you found yourself in a tad bit of a pickle. Your eyebrows furrowed, the realization that you wouldn't be able to open the door making you frown at the closed door briefly. You cursed yourself slightly, for not thinking that far ahead. You forgot in all your excitement.

Briefly you considered trying to use you feet before dropping the idea. Guess you've got no choice.

Dang it! You felt kinda bummed that you'd be losing the element of surprise, but the grin soon returned, thinking about seeing Beel always you happy, regardless of the circumstances.

"Beeeeellllllllllll!" You called out, letting a bit of a whine into your voice, hey, who knows? Maybe it'd get him in front of you faster?? He tended to be on the slower side of answering his door, sometimes he simply didnt hear it. Especially if he was working out or watching tv.

Apparently, whining his name did not speed him up:(

You were about to call out again, worried he hadn't heard you, when the door clicked open. The mere sound making you feel slightly giddy. Your eyes snapping up to meet his briefly. You soaked in as many details of him as you could, without just straight ogling him, before flicking your eyes back up to meet his.

"Y/n?" He seemed pleasantly surprised, dressed in a black tank top and grey sweats (you were happy to see him wearing them, because while he looked like a whole ass meal in them, it also meant he had no plans of leaving the house tonight).

His eyes were quick to find the odd lumps wrapped up in your shirt, as well as the bit of tummy peaking out. The position you held your shirt in had caused the bottom of your stomach to show, something you had worried about on the way here, anxious about a different brother catching a glimpse of you. You could feel his stare burn against your skin, he was about to say something, but then his nose twitched, and his eyes fixed on your bundle of snacks instead.

Not that you minded his staring your stomach, not with Beel.

The others...maybe.

Your tummy was one of his favorite parts about you, he's hands finding their way under your shirt to touch and squeeze the soft flesh more often than not. Always gentle and non intrusive. I think he'd full on cry if he accidentally upset you somehow tbh.

Boy had absolutely no shame about it, once he learned you didnt mind much.

Especially when you seemed to be a bit shy about showing your stomach, with the others, or just in general. He made sure to let you know how much he loved your squish. Be it at RAD or just casually in the house.

The only person who ever raised a fuss over it was Mammon, although, he tended to fuss over everything you did anyways;; His protests did absolutely nothing to deter you or Beel, much to his dismay.

Sometimes, if Beel was hungry and needed a distraction or a quick 'pick me up', he'd scoop you up and just shove his face into your tummy. (Much like what I do with my cat when I'm bored and/or sad) Then he'd just hold you there until he absolutely had to let you down.

Relishing in the feel of your softness and you heart racing under your skin, fluttering so delicately under his lips, pressing his face against you was an instant mood lifter for him.

You loved it, a surprised but delighted laugh always ripping from your chest, almost subconsciously. You couldn't hide your happiness in his affections, not that you would want to (thats a lie, you cant help but be embarrassed at the end of the day by the intensive joy you felt whenever you looked at him). Which only seemed to motivate him even more, and soon each time he scooped you up, he'd kiss all over your tummy, making you giggle because it tickled, before hugging you close with a small sigh.

"I brought snacks, and some cuddles. So uhm, can I nap on you for a bit? 'M tired. Unless your busy or something..." you beam up at him, starting to hesitate toward the end, suddenly a little unsure.

"Pretty please?? I wont bug ya, I promise." You plead, pulling your best puppy dog eyes, shifting from one foot to the other nervously. His eyes widened as his brain processed what you said, and the cute sight in front of him. If he was being honest, it made his brain stop for a split second.

He chuckled at you and lifted you up by the back of your knees, holding you carefully to his chest, mindful of your full shirt. A small startled squeak coming from you as he did so, a sound he never got tired of hearing.

You glanced in the room as he closed to door, he had papers sprawled over the small coffee table in the middle of the room, and a few (you spotted more in the trash bin in the corner) empty food wrappers around his work space. He plopped down in front of the table again, taking only a few steps to reach it. You were kind of jealous, your short legs never being a fair match against his. Luckily he enjoyed carrying you, which solved that issue right quick.

"You can keep me company while I finish my homework." He says, shifting you into his lap and keeping a loose hold on your lower stomach, fingers splaying out to get a small feel of your exposed skin. Glancing around, you dont see belphies mop of hair in his bed, he was probably sleeping in the attic or the observatory, you quietly hum to yourself, abit happy to have Beel all to yourself for the moment. Shifting forward, Beels hands refusing to let you go and setting on your waist, you hold your shirt above the edge of the table, and let the snacks spill from your shirt before smoothing the garment back down, missing Beels frown as he looses sight of your tummy. Quickly moving to organize the snacks a bit, so that they were within reach and not scattered all over his papers and in the way.

"Thank you, your the bestest!!" You say, the dull ache in your arms more than worth the effort in your opinion.

You tilted your head back so you can look up at him. Making eye contact with him made your brain kinda just...mush. Your hands slowly squeezing his on your waist, lifting them so you move a bit.

You tore you gaze from his, before turning around and wrapping your arms around his nack and your legs around his torso,(like a koala in his opinion).

Scooting as close as you could get away with, (your not as stealthy as you give yourself credit for, he knows, he just too nice to tease you for it, and he doesn't want you to stop), so you could snuggle up to him and be comfy at the same time. Which wasn't all that hard to do with him, being the teddy bear he is.

Your eyes glazed over slightly, and you were distracted as you mind pulled your attention away.

Ah, you were in pure bliss, you could die happy like this~

You had grabbed plenty of snacks, being sure to vary in your choices, knowing Beel would like to have options, and hoping to be able to buy some extra time with him and a cute Beel smile as a reward for your effort. Tho, youd do it anyways.

Not that you'd ever admit to that. Nuh uh, no way. Unless he asked nicely, you'd give in embarrassingly fast if he ever did, the realization making your face heat up.

But...

Embarrassment be damned, youd never tell Beel 'No'.

He looks down at you, face going all blushy and soft at your slightly dazed and flushed expression. Your thoughts getting the best of you for a moment. Shaking your head slightly and letting out a resigned sigh.

"Of course you can," you snap out of it when he speaks up, looking up at him, quick to give him your full attention. "I love when you cuddle up with me, it helps me focus a bit. You didn't have to bribe me, though, as long as its you, my cuddles come free-" wrapping his arms around your shoulders, giving you a snug hug, he moves to continue. "Not that I'm complaining-" you cut him off, feeling slightly guilty about it. You were already flustered, and his sweet words weren't helping your predicament one bit. That was until your eyes actually focus on his face, oh sweet hell, hes so precious!!! Your heart thumps nearly painfully for a moment, nerves biting into your thoughts.

Your face was definitely beat red now, you could feel it at the tips of your ears even. Yet you refused to move, your eyes locked on his. A rare occurrence, one you could tell he was basking in, his eyes were glued to your face, studying it. His flush deepening slightly.

Squishing his cheeks and "shushing" him gently. Your basically cooing at him, to tired suddenly to care much about how your words or actions came off. The nervousness slipping away from your voice and movements. "Its not a bribe hun, I just felt like seeing you smile before I fell asleep on you. Heh, your smile is my goodluck charm for good dreams, ya know?" You tiredly rub his cheek with your thumb, eyes lit up happily and content. Giving him a small breathless laugh at the end.

He really did calm you down, your mind slowing down as the excitement started to fade, a fact you became overly aware of quite suddenly, your eyes feeling quite heavy now that you felt safe.

You yawned, your weariness catching up to you.

Beels quick to notice, taking note of the bags under your eyes. Dont worry, he'll make sure you get some good sleep, no bad dreams were gonna plague you on his watch. He glances over at the snacks you brought, unbelievably happy. Seeing you so cutely curled up to him, the fact that you brought him as much food as you could carry(a sight he nearly died from when he saw it) and your sweet sweet words, it definitely warmed his heart to say in the least.

He loved that you actually came to find him, just so you could cuddle. His adoration for you is bottomless, just like his hunger.

So, Beel wraps you inna big bear hug, pulling you closer and peppering the top of your head and face with kisses. He gives you a big grin, his eyes sparkling happily. "Nap, I'll wake you up when I'm done and we can hangout till dinner."

You tiredly nod, relaxing against him.

Grabbing a baggy of chips, he smooches your forehead, before tucking your face under his chin so he could munch, and see his work(not like that was much of an issue, beels a big boy after all👀), without completely covering the top of your head in crumbs (you'd told him you didn't mind, especially since he always ruffled your hair to get then out, and you loved that...but he still feels bad about it and tries to avoid it to some extent) and being able to rest his chin on top your head was just the cherry on top for him.

💗Happy beel mode activated💗

Sighing happily, you close your eyes. Beels cuddles making all your stress melt away, just like they always did. Slowly, you start to drift off, listening to the soft scratch of his pen as he starts to work and his deep breathing, letting it lull you into sleep.

I dont know why my brain wanted me to got all out on this. I literally jus couldn't stop tweaking with it. Imma post if before i decide to change it. Imma just conveniently forget i wrote this now, maybe ill like it more after a week or two... :/ also if theres any spelling or grammar issues plz tell me, its like 2am rn so im sure i missed something

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ilkkawhat · 3 years

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fav fic titles

[Rules: List your 20 favorite fic titles, whether they're story titles or chapter titles! They can be funny, creative, eye-catching, whatever makes them your best. :) If you don't have 20 favorites, or don't have 20 stories, just do however many you want!]

tagged by @impossiblepluto and believe or not, 237 fics and I really don’t have many.

1) Half Past Midnight - my first re-emergence into writing and publishing CSI fic after many, many years (though honestly I don’t count a lot of my teenage stuff cause it was hot garbage anyway) and I didn’t actually even notice until I think I posted the first or second chapter that technically, when the team is watching the feed for the first time, it is a little half past midnight so. that was just cool to sort of subconsciously gather lmao

2) The All In series: Atrophy, Agony, Augury - Alliteration, pure and simple lmao very satisfying and esp in my most recent graphic series for it. It’s all about that Suffering

3) Agony Ch. 26: Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve - The longest I’ve written for any of my multi-chaps to date, this chapter means a lot to me on so many levels and I feel like it’s title is due in part to my own bout of agony going on with some pretty severe depression so. Yay self projection

4) Specimen Stokes & its chapter titles - Even before the shrinking twist I was giddy about dubbing Nick a “specimen” just for the like. idk, human experimentation aspect and because he’s super hot. The chapter titles are all composed of things you’d find in a lab which has actually started to become a little tricky for me (and I super want to name this one chapter “Feed My Frankenstein” but it’ll break the trend lol) but I had a dream recently about a chapter called “scissors” and I know exactly what would happen in it. Whether that’ll be this story or the sequel, I’m stoked.

5) First Flight - It originally had a double meaning but I scrapped half of the fic’s plot for reasons but recently I figured out how to restore that double meaning with a brand new twist that wasn’t necessarily gonna happen. I also have a tentative chapter called “no cake in the breakroom” that’s gonna be the most angsty, gut wrenching thing I ever write and I’m weirdly excited for it

6) Finder’s Fee - Out of all of my episode-related titles I actually think I like this one the most? and by that I mean where I either twist the name of the episode (i.e, Assume Nothing > Everything Assumed) or take a line from the episode as the title. This was another “means a lot to me” fic too (coughSelfProjectioncough)

7) For Your Viewing Pleasure - Okay this was another episode related one and I just like it cause it was a super underrated creepy ass line in Grave Danger and I wrote an entire fic about it in a week. out of nowhere.

8) Last Breath & its chapter titles - Mostly composed of song titles, I tried to choose things that would kinda give a clue/set the tone for the chapter. I’m a sucker for Evanescence’s knack for angst in their lyrics lmao

9) Hollow Heart & its chapter titles (specifically “The Rescue”) - My first lemon fic! Angsty lemon!!!! Really kinda harder on the angst than the lemon aspect esp since I’m (still) not that good at writing smut but! I thought it turned out pretty good.

10) Stone Heart - Grave Danger AU, so naturally love it because of that, but it’s a reference to the lyrics of Outside Chance and something I actually want to get tattoo’d some day (I’m thinking a tattoo of the tape recorder, a pair of glow sticks, and a ribbon that reads “stone heart” on it)

I swear I do actually love more of my fic titles but these were the ones that resonate with me right now.

Also bonus, some titles of unreleased fics (subject to change) mainly just an excuse to gush over my WIPs that I actually have a name for cause otherwise I legit have documents titled “shock waves word vomit” or “attempt at writing word vomit hospital meat jekyll shit::

Bonus #1 The Violence in the Pouring Rain - Nick/Naomi (OC), one of my favorite uses of lyrics from Halsey’s “Hurricane” cause yeah. They’re trapped in a hurricane. Also a dream fic.

Bonus #2 Augury Ch. 1, I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight - I’m gonna be taking a real dangerous leap with this chapter into a territory I’ve never written before and feel a little idk not uncomfortable but just. worried about doing BUT...I feel like it’s gonna be one of my best in terms of build up and action and how the chapter ends. (and if you’ll notice, I used that song for the “trailer” I made even though I gotta finish Agony first LMAO)

Bonus #3 The Pancho Problem/The Sanders Solution - The Pancho Problem was one of the earlier CSI fics I posted when I started publishing in 2018/2019 but unfortunately I had a moment of weakness and deleted what I had going for it. I do want to revisit it one day and re-work what I thought was wrong and one of my chapter titles for the Pancho Problem was “The Girl with the Flower Tattoo” which at the time, I thought was fucking amazing.

Bonus #4 The Beast You Made of Me: More Nick in captivity, but think of The Most Dangerous Game for the human hunting aspect, and idk other creepy shit like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre for torture. Basically I’m gonna make Nick into a feral human beast by the end of it. With long hair and a scraggly beard. And literal shit thrown at him. Eventually finds his way home after a full on YEAR to find out...he doesn’t have one anymore.

Bonus #5 The Day the World Went Away: The assclowns haunted mansion fic I promised for years lmao. Combining inspiration from Twin Peaks, Silent Hill and my own dreams, I hope it ends up being done in time for this year’s Halloween lmao (or earlier)

Bonus #6 Nick + Jack + Nick: DaltonStokes + Nick Corelli. Cause we need to give Nick Corelli some love dammit.

#mk.op #mk.fic #mk writes stuff #got real close to 20 though didn't i

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falloutboywife · 3 years

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i want to start this off by saying i am infintitely grateful for all the support i've gotten while i was away, and i cannot express enough how much it means to me to know i have so much support during such a frustrating part of my life, even if i'm only showing you guys one part of it. i cannot tell you enough how thankful i am, and i'm going to respond to as many messages as i can tomorrow because this has taken a lot of time and energy for me to write and piece together emotionally

i definitely think the other week when i made that lengthy post about my identity and my place in online spaces may have been a bit of an overreaction, however while i've had some time to think about it on my own i think that just avoiding tumblr outright is causing me to become pretty insular in how i'm perceiving the entire situation, which isn't made any easier for me considering when i ask my friends who've been seeing it unfold what their opinions on it are, their responses have been pretty mixed.

as a whole, i think that being in online fandoms, as an outspoken artist (outspoken in this sense meaning redacted and fat kid fuckery, both shameful and heretical topics few dare to mention), tends to inflate my ego in a way i don't really find desirable. meaning people who are super kind and friendly towards me and who give me a lot of positive attention, while reassuring and definitely welcomed, tends to lean into people admiring me for reasons i don't really understand, and this can also end up trapping me into a certain role to fulfill in a community because of the kind of attention i tend to reward and validate, i.e. fat kid fuckery in my dms, which leads to the expectation of me being this sort of bastion of hornyposting where all evil (affectionate) thoughts are encouraged and endorsed.

on the other end of the spectrum, and if you know what i'm talking about then you know, i tend to attract a lot of negativity from people i've never interacted with or had any intention of interacting with, and this has been an issue for me pretty much the entire time i've used social media (me adding hornyposting as a facet to my personality is really recent, like i only started doing this late 2017 and i'm really tired of it by now but. again. it's what people expect of me, more on that later), and i'm not entirely sure how to make it stop. granted, when i was a lot younger, i was genuinely an asshole, but i want to stress a very important thing i think very few of my followers on here are aware of

i'm 28 and only just now aware of the fact that i'm autistic, and i was misdiagnosed with bipolar when i was 13 and because none of the treatment or therapy worked, i always thought there was something really wrong with me, so i couldn't actually learn how to cope with a lot of my problems in a productive way until recently. so yeah, i was a jackass when i was younger, and i can be a jackass in private sometimes when i'm under a lot of stress, but having this realization about myself is really helping me a lot on its own

and being autistic, people can think i'm annoying or obnoxious or irritating and that, juxtaposed with content or opinions they might personally disagree with, can make people very angry just inherently. i've spoken with my friends about how i can't seem to shake off any drama that i really, really have nothing to do with or any interest in, and the only ones who could really relate were other autistic people. my own friend actually told me that she thinks this is something i'm just going to have to struggle with my entire life, because even if it's not being horny or advocating for sexual positivty, i'm ALWAYS doing something that will piss someone off

(quick disclaimer: i know some of you are probably going to try to engage in bad faith arguments with me saying that i'm calling all my haters ableist, and if anyone tries to insinuate that this is the conclusion i'm coming to, i'm not only ignoring your ask but blocking you as well. i'm also not answering any asks trying to insinuate that i "need help" simply because of the type of fiction i enjoy, when the issue was HOW i was engaging with it, which i think i have made exceedingly clear.)

i think it's funny that me clearly being into waycest and clearly being into babystump is lost on people to the point where they feel they need to make callout posts "warning" people about the fact that i'm...openly and unabashedly interested in this shit, but the very second i say "actually i'm asexual but i'm glad you guys are so sexually open about yourselves and your interests" i lost more followers than any active campaign trying to cancel me, which is exactly what i fucking mean when i say this is what people expect of me

so i can't really make anyone happy in the current environment i've curated for myself because it is expected of me to maintain this personality and continue engaging in this nature of content regardless of my own personal feelings on the matter, because if i want to break free from it then i risk pissing people off. i also can't just act how i want or make the kind of jokes that i want or enjoy the kind of things i want anyway because simply by having a mental disability that effects how i engage with people socially, i am risking ostracizing myself by pissing the wrong people off and ultimately making things a lot worse than they otherwise would be

however. However. even if this is exactly how i feel, this isn't entirely a situation that is exclusive to this current blog, and when i said in the beginning i was taking this too seriously, i still mean that, and i think that my own personal problems with being in online fandoms stem from external factors that have nothing to do with this website. i'm almost 30 and a lot of my life this past decade has been very stagnant due to severe depression, with no real progress towards furthering my life in any meaningful way, and i think that what i was really frustrated with when i made that post was this very factor. in conjunction with this, i use online spaces a way to try to find an open and accepting community of people i can befriend and be myself in, because my undiagnosed autism has historically made it difficult for me to really socialize with people in a productive way that didn't make me feel like an outcast. i think a combination of the fact that online spaces are becoming increasingly more difficult for me to adapt to, as well as incresingly unfulfilling, adding to the lack of fulfillment in the rest of my life, was the subconscious realization i came to when i decided to make that post and take a break from tumblr for a bit. i'm frustrated that i have no fulfillment in my life, and i can no longer find it in online spaces that i used to enjoy and find so much meaning in

this being said, i'm actually doing shit with my life at long last. i'm enrolled in classes for an english degree, and i'm going to subsequently get an associates in creative writing that i'll be able to complete in a single semester after the fact, leaving me with two whole degrees under my belt that i can use in developing my future in the literary world. i'm taking my art more seriously as well, although i only post my bandom and lotr drawings on here, and i'm thinking of making an instagram account to start posting my art on there as well, as a sort of portfolio. i'm sick of this ongoing feeling of there being no meaning in my life, and i'm sick of feeling like i'm just wasting away and putting my mind to no use, and the immense joy i got just from seeing my class schedule for the fall semester made me realize that i am an intellectual, i'm an academic, and i'm in love with media and literary studies and this is what i find meaning in. this shit makes me so fucking happy and when i finished the picture of dorian gray the other day i IMMEDIATELY went on a tirade about its themes and symbolism just to myself and that, alone, was so fucking rewarding. i've been watching movies with my friend sweaterangst and just describing the themes of the horror used in the fucking texas chainsaw massacre movies made me feel so fulfilled even if he might have barely been listening LMAO i find meaning in seeking out complex and thought-provoking pieces of work and i

absolutely

am not getting that being on tumblr and talking about how i'm gonna let the fat kid deepfry me at the state fair (affectionate) (delusional) (severe)

with that being said, yes, i'm still asexual and i don't get fulfillment from purely sexual discussion, but i think i'm still gonna be answering asks about the sexy stuff so long as i find it engaging to a degree. i'm gonna start trying to use the guys you say as creative writing exercises because in the beginning that's what the fucking smut started as LMAO but i lost the plot a while ago and just let myself stagnate, like i said. i'm still gonna blog about bandom stuff but now that i have no reason to treat social media like it's all i have, and now that i'm breaking out of my depressed state in more meaningful ways, i think i'm gonna start blogging about a lot more things too and try to start having fun on this site again.

five nights at fat kid's is back, baby

#long post /

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dreamingofscully · 4 years

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6x18. “Milagro” - X-Files Rewatch

Lots of analysis below. So much to unpack with this episode. An EXTREMELY significant episode for Scully related to her feelings about and relationship with Mulder. This analysis goes into more depth in general, rather than a stream-of-consciousness observational post like my others tend to be.

Also, fanfic! I have a post-ep that I’d love y’all to check out that I wrote a while back in attempt to explain what happened with Scully in-between Milagro and The Unnatural.

Bated Breath (AO3), rated G, 2198 words M/S UST, Post-episode (Milagro) Mulder drives Scully home from the hospital.

Onwards for analysis and speculation.

The soundtrack for this episode is amazing. Love the beating heart that Mark Snow incorporated.

At the beginning, the symbolism of Padgett removing his own heart. It reflects the emptiness of his heart, his incapability of having love, but the burning passion he believes he is capable of, with which he pursues Scully.

At Padgett’s stare, Scully is creeped out, but she is also curious. That someone would look at her so boldly and with such obvious lust, when she’s tried to think of herself as separate from such things for so long.

Padgett wills things to happen, using his writing as a tool, a FOCUS, to channel his powers. He manifests things - the psychic surgeon (representing Padgett’s dark side), the lightbulbs not working, etcetera. He uses his creepy stalker insight to profile how people will act, then writes about it, but he can’t alter emotions, only manifest what is already there. (If he could make people think and do whatever he wanted, he wouldn’t have given up so easily when he recognized Scully’s love for Mulder.)

Mulder and Scully sitting close on his couch.

Padgett suggests that Scully sticks to science and facts because otherwise she’d be viewed as weak and soft. Perhaps this is partly true for other people, but NOT for Mulder. Padgett doesn’t know her history, what she’s afraid of, the real reason she’s kept herself from believing for so long. However, Scully IS influenced by Padgett here - she stands up for herself (makes herself tough instead of soft) when Mulder makes her schedule for her and goes off to do her own investigation.

The burning heart tale that Padgett tells Scully: “Christ came to Margaret Mary his heart so inflamed with love that it was no longer able to contain its burning flames of charity. Margaret Mary... so filled with divine love herself, asked the Lord to take her heart... and so he did placing it alongside his until it burned with the flames of his passion. Then he restored it to Margaret Mary sealing her wound with the touch of his blessed hand.”

He wants to reenact this story with her, not realizing that her heart already belongs to another.

As Padgett tells Scully intimate details of her life it makes her incredibly uncomfortable. She’s an intensely private person, only lets in a few people. But here is some stranger who seems to KNOW her. How did she not know she was being watched? What other things does he know? It would bother her from a professional point of view as well as a personal one.

That someone thinks of her this way - a purely physical attraction rather than something cerebral and mutually respectful like she has with Mulder - it unsettles her. But his influence makes her more aware of her desires, the feelings she’s walled away for so long and hasn’t let herself acknowledge.

The conversation between Mulder and Scully in the autopsy bay is very interesting. Scully is VERY OPEN about what just happened between her and Padgett, something that is pretty unusual for her. She admits to being frightened, she tells him that this creepy guy knows “too much information and intimate detail”, and then openly challenges Mulder to do something about it. Scully KNOWS what Mulder will do.

Mulder’s uncomfortable almost-smile when she tells him. How fucking real is that. I don’t know about you guys but I find myself smiling at the most inappropriate circumstances, so this hits home for me. (Thank you DD.)

Mulder and Padgett try to intimidate each other in the elevator. Don’t fucking mess with Scully! Mulder’s brooding walk down the hallway. 🔥 🔥 🔥

The love scene. Padgett writes what he wants to be true. He can influence the thoughts of others but cannot control them like Modell - only an encouragement in a particular direction, a manifestation of emotions already present. Scully’s disgust and fear is tempered by her curiosity of the strange and mysterious neighbour, which is why she ends up at his apartment. Padgett misinterprets her intellectual interest as romantic in nature.

“Loneliness is a choice.”

The implication: she can choose, at any time, to NOT be lonely. That she knows she’s lonely. What’s holding her back? This season was SHIT for Mulder and Scully’s relationship, but an undercurrent for her throughout the years she’s been his partner - fear. She’s scared to take that last step, to have him know all of her. For fear of death, of losing him. Being alone is safe.

Padgett talking to her like she’s an object, something to serve his writing rather than someone with a CHOICE. Another thing that reveals the emptiness of his heart.

The fantasy that Padgett has about Scully is meant to happen after she enters his apartment. The mugs in the fantasy are the same ones they drink coffee from, and in the fantasy they are still steaming hot. The lamp doesn’t light because it is off in the dream (another example of his ability to affect the physical but not the emotional).

I love the symbolism of Scully looking out the window in Padgett’s bedroom. She’d see something similar out of Mulder’s apartment, just slightly different. But enough to make a difference. She feels desire, she has love in her heart, but only for Mulder. Padgett can never be a replacement, no matter how many words he writes.

Padgett believes they are headed to the bed, to the love scene he described in his writing. I don’t think it would happen even if Mulder hadn’t interrupted them. Regardless, Mulder is a wild card - he didn’t account for him to burst through the door, didn’t write about him, so Mulder can act independently, outside of the story.

Mulder’s jealousy at seeing Scully there with Padgett. He’s tense, tearing through his pages, heedless of the destruction he’s causing, handles Padgett roughly. Mulder manifests his frustration as aggression, and this time it’s extremely personal. From now on the interactions that Mulder has with Padgett are filled with tension. You can see that Mulder just wants to fucking MESS with this guy. Part jealousy, part protectiveness.

Padgett’s assertion that the characters choose the writers. Does he believe that Scully chose him? That the psychic surgeon isn’t merely a manifestation of the evil and emptiness in his own heart?

In the jail cell, Mulder moves forward to intimidate Padgett but Scully’s touch instantly pulls him back. This is Padgett’s first glimpse at the connection between Scully and Mulder. Up until now he’s only been observing Scully by herself, and listening to them talk in Mulder’s apartment. Now, though, he realizes in their FIRST INTERACTION in front of him, that she is in love with him. All the things that he’s seen regarding Scully’s interest in him have been misinterpretations.

Mulder confronts Scully in the hallway about her part in the book. Just a note that Padgett watches their interaction here as well, confirming his initial thoughts about Scully’s love for Mulder. I think he’d also realize Mulder loves her back, but in Padgett’s mind, who wouldn’t?

“You know you're in here, don't you?” - Mulder “I read a chapter. What does he say?” - Scully “Well, let's just say it ends with you doing the naked pretzel with "the stranger" on a bed in an unfurnished fourth floor apartment. (pause) I'm assuming that's a priori, too?” - Mulder “I think you know me better than that, Mulder.” - Scully

Mulder’s look while biting his bottom lip. Scully’s licking her lips here, too. Hnnng. 🔥 🔥 🔥

After realizing Scully can’t love him, Padgett writes this: “Grief squeezed at her eggshell heart like it might break into a thousand pieces its contents running like broken promises into the hollow places his love used to fill.”

A parallel to how Padgett is feeling himself. Or “thinks” its how he should feel, if he had a heart.

Mulder and Scully standing close at the graveyard. Scully touches his back when getting him to back off from the suspect.

Their argument - taking opposite sides.

Scully is compelled to feel less negative about Padgett, and doesn’t feel he is capable of murder, he’s just strange and mysterious. Also, she wants to believe that it’s just an innocent attraction. (Please PLEASE let someone normal be attracted to her for once!)

AGENT SCULLY IS ALREADY IN LOVE. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Padgett is looking DIRECTLY at Mulder when he says this. Afterwards, Mulder takes a quick look at Scully, who has a very vulnerable expression on her face and does NOT look at him.

Padgett’s statement makes Scully’s feelings REAL - they are something that EXISTS in the world. She can no longer deny it, push it away. Also, the fact that Mulder is RIGHT THERE, that he KNOWS, too.

Things can’t go back to normal, especially after the ending of the episode. I don’t think Scully wants them to. I think she chooses not to be lonely.

Padgett starts writing and talking to Naciamento/his dark self. His subconscious knows what story needs to be told. He needs to steal Scully’s heart to place it next to his, to have her in death if he can’t have her in life. This is the ending that only makes sense for this story - he wrote it to have her fall in love with him, for them to be together, but now it’s impossible.

Padgett’s comment that Scully has been “trying to get his attention”. Through her interest in Padgett? This is possibly a misinterpretation, but it also might be something she’d do, though subconsciously. In my headcanon, Scully’s been trying to get Mulder’s attention for fucking YEARS, so perhaps he is correct. She wants Mulder to see her as someone with needs and desires, not just his partner.

They sit closely on Mulder’s couch for the surveillance.

The difference between Scully on Padgett’s bed, and Scully on Mulder’s couch (bed). At Padgett’s, she’s sitting up straight, very uncomfortable, like she could leap up and aim her gun at his head if he tried anything strange. At Mulder’s side, she falls asleep because she’s so trusting and comfortable with him.

Padgett wants to prove he can love, so he uses whatever power he possesses to sacrifice himself and heal Scully. From the burning heart story: “he restored it to Margaret Mary sealing her wound with the touch of his blessed hand.”

Destroying the book and thus destroying his dark self isn’t enough. Scully is already hurt, bleeding everywhere. He also needs to heal Scully, and does this through his sacrifice. This is the reason I believe that Padgett’s powers come through himself, he doesn’t really need his typewriter or even a physical copy of his stories to manifest them, he just uses them as a crutch. Perhaps it was how he developed his powers - his insight into human nature through his writing.

When Mulder hears the gunshots, he rushes back to Scully. It’s interesting to think that Mulder nearly cost Scully her life. Her bullets may not have killed Naciamento, but they summoned Mulder, enabling Padgett to burn the book, sacrifice himself and thus save Scully. In essence, she saved herself despite Mulder’s innocent interference.

“A chance to give what he could not receive.”

Instead of killing her, Padgett decides to give her the gift of life and love. He knows she loves another, that her heart is full of love unlike his own empty heart.

Scully’s breakdown.

She was about to die. It was the closest she’s come and in the most horrifying manner. Death is her greatest fear.

Being faced with something obviously supernatural (shooting Naciamento to no effect, being wounded then miraculously healed) would also make her confused and vulnerable - not being able to explain what happened and put it in a box.

The emotions she’s been trying desperately to repress have been brought to the surface this entire episode.

More speculation/final thoughts:

This season has dealt with Scully’s fears quite a bit, but mostly with her inability to accept paranormal/unexplainable phenomena. She also holds another fear - death. And it’s consequence? She’s afraid to let people in, let them close. After her remission, she tried to take the chance - to let Mulder closer, to give her heart to Emily. When she’s burned by taking these chances, she buries her feelings again. She’s too scared to take another chance, and the tension between them lately has not been conducive to any sort of positive change in their relationship. The emotions brought to the surface in this episode come bursting forth at the end. Scully doesn’t try to hide them. She lets Mulder see her whole heart, her whole self - fears and all.

Through sharing her entire self with him, Scully’s changed. She can’t go back to pretending and hiding. Her fear about dying, about getting too close, doesn’t matter. I think that Scully’s lightness in the preceding episode (“The Unnatural”) shows how far she’s come.

She reveals her vulnerabilities to Mulder, her softness; his embrace of her as she lets her walls down is cathartic and freeing. Scully knows what she wants, and now her love is “out there”, a tangible thing that they are BOTH aware of. No more second-guessing, misinterpretations.

Later in season 7 (“all things”), when Scully has her breakthrough about her beliefs, she has a similar cathartic experience (her vision in the Buddhist temple). In this episode, her breakthrough is emotional and related to her feelings about Mulder instead of intellectual/spiritual and deeply personal.

I think this episode is where I diverge from much of the fandom in terms of its significance to the MSR and Scully. I don’t think they can go back from this (along with things that happen with Mulder in the next episode). I’ll talk about a few more things in my “The Unnatural” post. If you disagree, that’s fine, but… I just love the idea of them having more time together, and I like the way my theory works! <3

If you want to know more about what I think happened after this episode, I’d love it if you’d read my fic “Bated Breath”. I feel that it expresses my thoughts pretty well about what I thought Scully went through, and where Mulder was as well.

#xfiles #x-files #x-files rewatch #x files rewatch #msr #msrheadcanon #mulder and scully #fox mulder #dana scully #top 10 episodes #season 6 #MEGA ANALYSIS

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icycream-catqueen · 3 years

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Kindling (When You’re Burning Low)

Cinder would rather burn herself out than risk a low grade; fortunately, Neo knows how to make her relax.

Rating: T

Tone: Some angst, lots of supportiveness, and a fluffy ending

Word Count: ~5,000

Important Tags: College AU, Established Relationship

I was gonna post this before now but I had problems with writing it and I was nervous about participating in a ship week especially when I only have something written for one prompt, and also my cat was sleeping on me for five whole hours earlier tonight while I was trying to finish up and as everyone knows it is a crime to disturb a snoozing kitty cat. I hope it still counts. ^_^;

Considering it’s pretty long, I only have an excerpt (the first scene I wrote for this fic, actually) on this post; the whole thing is, of course, over on AO3!

On this fine Saturday afternoon, Cinder was taking advantage of the lounge in the dorm suite. The coffee table was half-claimed by various books and notes while Cinder herself was settled at the same end of the couch, her laptop perched on the arm of it and her right side pressed closely against the suede upholstery as she struggled with the perfect phrasing for her essay. Failure was never an option for her, and even the slightest error would lead to it when it came to this class. She was running on pure caffeine by now, from a supposedly unhealthy amount of coffee. This was her third or fourth solid day of being awake. After the first night, she’d moved her setup from her room to the lounge to help her stay more alert. Winter and Emerald had both tried to tell her what was best for her wellbeing, but she’d firmly shut down their arrogance; she knew her own limits, and she needed to get this stupid project done. Neo, thankfully, had been out of town from Thursday morning to last night, and when she’d come back to the suite, she’d trudged straight to her room and shut the door. Cinder had only seen a couple brief glimpses of her since. Just as well, considering Cinder couldn’t intimidate her into letting her be like she could to Emerald and Winter.

At the moment, Emerald and Winter were both out of the building. They’d each probably told her what they were doing, but she hadn’t bothered to remember it. Neo was apparently still asleep, which was a bit odd but not enough so to risk seeing the pitiful kicked-puppy expression that appeared when her sleep was disturbed. Still, if she wasn’t up and about in two hours, it would be worth it to check on her mental and physical health.

Speak of the devil, Cinder heard a door open behind her. She didn't bother to look, though, until she realized the shuffling footsteps were approaching the couch instead of the kitchen, bathroom, or shower. She took a brief glance, then did an immediate double take because Neo looked absolutely miserable. Her hair was unbrushed and her eyes were dull. The oversized black sweatshirt (which Cinder recognized by the fiery orange phoenix on the front as one of her own that had mysteriously vanished a few weeks ago) and the brown and pink plaid pajama pants were probably what she'd worn to bed the night before, and she hadn't even bothered to put on socks. It was worrying to see her in such a state.

"You certainly look worse for wear," Cinder commented. Neo pouted at her as she slowly made her way to the couch and sank to the cushions. Before Cinder could react, Neo flopped down, squirmed to lay her head in her lap, and rolled onto her back. "I'm busy," Cinder told her sternly.

Neo's response was a soft and pitiful keening sound. She fumbled to grab Cinder's left wrist, staring up at her with pleading doe eyes.

"Neo. I'm busy," Cinder repeated. Neo whined and tugged on her wrist, so Cinder rolled her eyes and stopped resisting, curious about what she wanted. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but she was definitely taken by surprise when Neo gently guided her hand under the hem of her sweatshirt and pressed it against her lower stomach.

What is she trying to accomplish here? Cinder raised an eyebrow at the woman in her lap. Neo let go of her wrist to sign something at her. The odd angle made it hard to translate, so it took a few seconds for Cinder to understand what she was asking for and why.

"I suppose I can take a short break, if you're really in that much pain," she relented. "You're lucky you're cute," she added as she carefully activated her Semblance.

The reaction was instant. Neo sighed with relief at the warmth, eyes full of soft gratitude and affection. Cinder rubbed slow, small circles over her stomach, feeling the smaller woman go languid under her touch. After a few more seconds, Neo's eyes fluttered closed.

"Is this warm enough?" Cinder asked. Neo nodded, a content smile playing across her lips. "Just ten minutes."

Neo opened her eyes and pouted at her.

"There is a reason I've been awake for," Cinder checked the time on her laptop, "about eighty hours now." Neo looked positively outraged.

"You need to sleep," she signed—easily decipherable now that Cinder had gotten a little more time to adjust to her current perspective. Not that the message was very appreciated.

"No, what I need is to finish this ridiculous project so I can move on to my two remaining essays, do all the work for a 'group project' because the rest of my assigned group are immature and unmotivated idiots, and study for my three exams this week," Cinder retorted.

"When are your essays due?"

Cinder elected not to answer, since admitting the due dates were two and three weeks away respectively wouldn't help her against Neo's accusatory glare.

"Your group project?"

Okay, so maybe it hadn't technically been assigned yet and was scheduled to be due in a month and a half, but all the information was in the syllabus. Cinder's class was full of imbeciles, and somehow she always got stuck in a group with some idiot or another who didn't understand what a lesbian was, so she was getting it out of the way to avoid interacting with anyone.

"Are all three of your exams actually this week?"

Two of them, and one of those barely counted more towards the final grade in the class than a small quiz. Her continued silence was answer enough; Neo knew her too well.

"You're going to burn yourself out again." Neo's eyes were unbearably sad, so Cinder looked away.

"I'm fine," she dismissed the concern. A hand grabbed her chin and yanked her head down so her eyes met Neo's again.

"I watched you collapse in the middle of campus last year, and I almost got in trouble for pulling a knife on the paramedics to make them let me stay with you. I got a scared video call from Winter four months ago because you fainted in her fancy rich-person hot tub and nearly drowned," Neo reminded her. “Do I need to go on?”

"I can handle it this time," Cinder insisted, growing agitated. Neo took a calming breath before responding.

"No you can't. You always say it but you never can. You end up in an exhausted daze. You work yourself into a frenzy. You get into fits of rage...which honestly scare me."

"I would never lay a hand on—!" Cinder was cut off when Neo pressed a finger to her lips.

"Not for myself. I'm scared you'll lose control and take it out on yourself again," Neo corrected her. "You haven't in a while, but..." Neo trailed a hand down Cinder's left arm, tracing her scars.

"I just...I need to...I have to keep working. I can't let myself fall behind. I can't..." Cinder faltered. Neo sighed.

"I know," she acknowledged. She knew about the past, knew why Cinder relapsed into these desperate attempts to excel, to stay ahead. "But it's pointless if you destroy yourself trying."

"I've only ended up being sent to the hospital three times since I started college," Cinder argued. Neo was unimpressed.

"Congratulations! And you've managed to barely avoid hospitalization how many times now?"

"I—that isn't relevant!" Cinder hissed. Neo scowled.

"Really? It's not? How many times have you ended up so exhausted that you were bedridden for days? How many times have you gone into a mental decline because you were incapacitated? And how many more times are you going to make me watch you suffer like that?"

"If you want to leave me, just get it over with!" Cinder spat bitterly. Neo's eyes widened, hurt and shocked. Cinder flinched, realizing she'd crossed a very important line. "I didn't mean...I don't know why I said that."

"An abandonment complex, emotional instability, a mess of insecurities you mask with your ego, previous girlfriends who couldn't handle you or only wanted your body...and like I've been saying, you need sleep,” Neo replied, recovering. "Also, my cramps?"

"What?" Cinder realized she'd subconsciously deactivated her Semblance at some point and quickly remedied that. "Oh. Sorry."

"I'm going to make a deal with you," Neo informed her abruptly. Cinder raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"What kind of deal?"

"The 'ridiculous project' you're trying to finish. Tell me about it, and I'll explain," Neo replied. Cinder clenched her teeth at the mere mention of it.

"It's an assigned experiment, a five to ten-page report on it, and an oral presentation. And the professor hates me. He goes out of his way to make every class, every test, and every assignment hell for me. I have to work harder than anyone so he can't get away with failing me out of spite. If I make even one mistake..." she growled.

"When is it due?"

"The day after tomorrow. It was assigned two weeks ago, but three days ago he realized he 'accidentally' gave me the wrong experiment. In other words, he's making me do a two-week project within five days—after I'd already finished the one he previously assigned me."

"Watts," Neo guessed. Cinder had come back from his class angry enough times that it wasn't even a question.

"Yeah," she confirmed anyway. Neo wrinkled her nose.

"I already hated that guy, and I hated him more and more every time you came back from his class in a bad mood, but this shit he's pulling now is the final straw, so I'm going to get him fired," she declared. Cinder let out an amused huff.

"And how will you do that?" she asked. She didn’t expect an actual answer but Neo didn't even hesitate.

"It may include breaking and entering, small and well-placed incidents, a flat tire, some bottles of the expensive alcohol he isn't supposed to have on campus, a sedative, and if we're lucky, a little inadvertent assistance from gravity and Ironwood."

"Just how long have you been planning this?" Cinder was taken aback at the immediate response. Neo considered.

"The time you locked me out of your dorm after his class because you were so furious you wanted to hit something, and you were worried you'd see so much red you might accidentally hit me in blackout rage. You've never told me what happens in his class to make you so angry, or even if it's actually him or just another student—though I was pretty sure it was him—so I planned for both situations."

"I'm impressed," Cinder commented. Neo smirked. “Now what was that ‘deal’ you mentioned?”

"You finish the report for your project, then eat something more substantial than coffee and whatever quick snacks you've been living off of for the past few days. And then we go to my dorm and you get some damn sleep."

"How did you know I'm working on the report right now?" Cinder was taken aback. "And how do you know I haven't been eating?"

"Because I can see it on your computer. And once again, you've done this before, so I know you don't take the time for more than the minimum amount of food to keep hunger from 'distracting' you," Neo pointed out, almost accusingly.

"I haven't even started working on the oral presentation. I'll do all that after I'm completely finished."

"Nope. You can start that part when you're well-rested. If you make me physically drag you to bed while I'm on my period, I'll make damn sure you regret it," Neo threatened with a scowl.

“Fine,” Cinder gave in reluctantly. Neo smiled brightly, and dammit, it was nigh impossible for Cinder to stay bitter in the face of such genuine fondness, joy, and relief. She wondered when she’d gotten so soft—even if only a select few people got to see that soft part of her—and realized she didn’t even mind anymore.

#spicecreamweek2021 #spicecream #cinder x neo #fanfic #rwby #cinder fall #neopolitan #college au #oneshot #mentions of trauma #mentions of past self-harm #fluff #cuddles #established relationship #tl;dr cinder neglects self-care so neo makes her take a nap #i could have just done a link like normal people but i wanted an excuse to use the spicecream graphic i made

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superhousecat-once-again · 3 years

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Am I posting a Christmas fic over a month after Christmas when it’s no longer relevant? Yes, but have you considered time isn’t real and writing is hard.

Anyways, it’s more stuff for @mindblindbard because I am a one-trick pony but at least it’s a fun trick :)

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You’re tracing circles into the carpet, leaning back against the couch with your knees to your chest, trying to ignore the only present left tucked neatly beneath the tree. The sun is fading from the sky, Nick’s seeing Gray off at the door, and in all ways that truly matter Christmas is over.

Except for that one last gift. The one from your parents.

The last couple years of presents they’ve sent you are shoved unopened in the back on your closet, buried under a pile of discarded shirts and running shoes you’ve worn the soles out of. You’ve tried to angrily toss them out a handful of times, but each time you get halfway through dragging them to the trash your stomach twists with guilt and you end up finding more unwanted clothes to throw on top of them instead. The more you sneak peeks at this year’s gift out of the corners of your eyes though, the more you’re tempted to tear into it. Maybe it’s Christmas spirit. Absolutely not some sort of nostalgia for a time before your family imploded. Just pure, sickeningly sweet, over-commercialized Christmas spirit: a perfectly good enough reason to indulge your curiosity. It’s not like your parents’ll know, or it’s deciding to forgive them. It’s just opening a box.

You decide it’s not worth the effort to get up, but if you uncurl one of your legs you can toe the corner of the box into reach. Doing so begins to tear the wrapping, but you don’t really care. It just saves you time, and the gift is open before your brain can recognize what a terrible idea this probably is, the content tucked snuggly inside staring back at you. It’s a jacket. A really damn nice one, in a deep, dark red leather. You’d be willing to wear it. Fuck, you actually really want to wear it. You really didn’t think this whole plan through, did you? It’s so much easier to ignore unopened gifts than something you like, something that you like to the point that it feels like it was pulled to reality from somewhere in your subconscious. The thought that your parents still know you well enough to do that makes you fidget. You go to shove everything back in their boxes: the jacket in one, your feelings in another, but something catches your eye.

There’s a slip of paper peeking its way out of the pocket, carefully folded in half. It’s an unconscious action to unfold it and begin to scan the first few words of the small note.

‘Merry Christmas, Elliot.’

It’s in your mother’s handwriting.

You crush the paper in your hands, your chest starting to get tight with the swirl of emotions that come with any thought of your mother, a tornado of rage and, if you’re honest with yourself for just a moment, regret.

“Hey Button.”

Nick’s timing is blessedly convenient, distracting you from your spiraling emotions. He was probably just waiting in the other room to see if you’d actually be alright with facing any acknowledgement of your parents. As much as you resent your mindblindness, you do have to admit that on rare occasions it can be helpful. Not like you’d ever say that out loud though. Nick slides down next to you, nudging your shoulder with his own.

“Nice jacket. Is this that new darker shade of black you’re always swearing to switch to?”

It’s not a well disguised effort to get you to laugh, but it works anyways and you shove him back with a light chuckle.

“I’m focus-testing a new ‘bathed in the bloods of innocents’ thing. It’s very in this season.”

“Well then, I hope it sticks.”

The two of you sit quietly for a moment and you watch as Nick begins turning his phone over in his hand, waiting for the inevitable question he always asks Christmas evening.

“I was going to call Dad and Mom now. Catch them before it gets too late in the day.”

“Knock yourself out. I’m gonna find something to eat that isn’t some sort of baked good.”

“Do you want to say hi?”

You snort and push yourself up off the floor, “I’d rather stick bamboo shoots under my nails, but thanks for asking.”

You stop yourself before you leave the room though, fingers drumming on the doorway. It doesn’t feel right to just leave. Something’s gnawing at the base of your stomach, something you don’t want to think about.

“You can tell them thanks, I guess. For the jacket. It’s...”

There isn’t really a good word for what you want to say. Nothing that suffices for all the conflicting emotions. You like the jacket. You feel bad about liking it. And even if you decide that the liking outweighs the guilt, you don’t want to forgive them, you hardly even want to acknowledge them. But you can appreciate something nice, if only for Christmas. And that’s it. Definitely it. You don’t miss them at all. You refuse to.

“Alright Button. I’ll let them know.”

“Don’t make a big deal about it or anything. I don’t really care.”

He gives you an over-exaggerated salute, “Aye-aye captain!”

Even if he wasn’t barely trying to disguise his practically giddy smile, it’s obvious in his voice. You groan.

“You’re going to being insufferable about this, aren’t you? Get all cheery about how this is a surefire sign we’re on a fast track to being a picture-perfect family?”

“Well, we all are extremely photogenic...”

“Endlessly humble too.”

“You know it!” Nick calls after you, as you return to making your retreat towards the kitchen.

“I’m rolling my eyes at you!” You yell back, not bothering to turn around for a second time. The fridge isn’t going to raid itself.

You guess as far as Christmases go, this one? Not bad. Even if you now have to find a subtle space in your closet for a new jacket. But that sounds like a problem for later.

Maybe much later. Or at least until you finish rummaging for leftovers.

#mind blind #i am Not Happy with parts of this but I am very tired of looking at it so behold #dialogue is hard dude I'm going back to writing research papers no dialogue in those #no adjectives or anything fun either so it's also a pain but at least I don't have to remember how people talk #unless it's a psycholinguistics thing again but i haven't done that in a while #anyways this could just be called 'someone please explain to elliot that acknowledging she misses how her family once was is not the same'#'as forgiving her parents so like please dude stop being a brat for thirty seconds'#or 'elliot wiseman is such a horrible liar that the only person that believes her is herself'#i love her and these are my choices but also ma'am please use some critical thinking #elliot wiseman

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realityshiftingandblogging · 3 years

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Dreaming, An Explanation

Okay before I start, I had this posted on Amino a while back so if you go "hey I've seen this on Amino-" that's because it's my post. If you need further proof I'll log in and screenshot XD

I wanted to make this to show others valuable information and maybe clear up how the dream process works! Before anyone asks - yes I did write this. These are my NOTES from the book I was reading. You can find it here: https://books.google.com/books/about/500_Dreams_Interpreted.html?id=g-TqtgAACAAJ

Obviously I do not claim to have a scientific discovery on any bit of this information (lol), it's public information.

I've collected, gathered, and put into my own words. If I had to copy it word for word I have "quotations" and things like "(from the book.)" Also, you'll see me say "quote on unquote." If anything wasn't quoted, I sincerely apologize in advance. I hope you get any answers you have needed, and that this isn't too boring! The whole point of this was to give information on dreams and how make the most of them. I never really understood (until a few years back) why we lucid dream and how it works. Why does it do this and is there anything that triggers it? So here is what I learned and what I also got from the book! (I really hope you find answers because this took....8 hours? To write?) So in other words, I hope this clears things up for you!

Side note: The images are sort of like borders?? I hope they don't bother you. And there are a lot of grammar errors so 🧍🏻‍♀️

Introduction

Dreams can be used to communicate and discover important things about yourself. The process happens when the deepest part of your subconscious, that processes the dream state, sends messages to you - which can be symbols, actions, people, or images. What happens in a dream is usually not meaningless, but it can be confusing at times! These messages are meant to help you evaluate and discover what you are doing right and wrong.

Dreams can consist of personal experiences which are why when your subconscious messages you, it can consist of things that are personal to you. (Such as memories, beliefs, and other things like fantasies and expectations.) This is why if you learn the meanings of your dreams and discover how to use them, you can become better at what you do and achieve a higher level of inspiration and encouragement.

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“When you go to sleep, where do you really go?” ― Brian Lovestar

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The way to unlock the meanings of your dreams is to realize that

¹ They are not a one-way experience in which your dream self bombards you with information.

² Dreams are not lectures, they are dialogues between your conscious and subconscious minds. The dialogue is created from your thoughts, emotions, and experiences. Your dream self then uses this information to create visual pictures to show you what you feel and how you perceive things.

Once you begin to interpret your dreams you will recognize attributes that may not be serving you in the best way possible/positive way. Once you interpret your dreams and learn - you’ll find it easier to face fears and overcome personal challenges. With more practice, you can learn to program and/or “incubate” your dreams to address a very specific problem. Because dreams generally have multiple levels of meaning, the more work, and effort you do, the better.

Why do we dream?

This has no definitive answer, though as far as speculation goes - it's to rejuvenate and repair the body. Others say it’s purely phycological; to review the daily events, relieve the mind, and to release emotions. Here are a few explanations...

Compensation

Carl Jung, a psychologist, believes that we dream to compensate for underdeveloped personalities. His reason is it may explain why the dreaming behavior of some is obviously different from the ‘them’ they personify while awake.

Processing

This suggests that dreams organize and process the conscious and unconscious mind that it received during the day. In other words “refreshing the mind.” And again, in other words, “rebooting/turning it off and on again.”

Coping

Ernest Hartmann, a psychiatry professor, suggests that dreams are projected by certain emotions. The new material is “weaved” into the memory of said dreamer in ways to help cope. In ways such as stress, anxiety, depression, trauma, etc.

Activation Synthesis

In this theory, Allan Hobson and Robert McCarley say that dreams are due to “sensory-motor signals.” These areas activate small parts of the brain that affect memory, emotions, and physical feelings. In this, it creates dreams in relation to the sensations and signals sent.

Resolution

Some scientists believe in this theory: the theory that dreaming is a problem-solving use. They suggest that when we sleep, our brain continues to process all issues of concern that we deal with in our waking hours. In this, it makes up solutions.

So what does happen when we sleep? That we know of?

When you go to bed at night you are alert. The reason is that your brain is still producing a small signal - a beta wave. As you begin to fall asleep these waves slow down and become ‘Alpha Waves.’ When this happens you might experience what’s called “Hypnagogia.” This is the experience of auditory and visual hallucinations that make it hard for you to fall into a “deep sleep.” As others may know it, it can cause Sleep Paralysis and Lucid Dreaming! As Google says: “Hypnagogia is the experience of the transitional state between wakefulness and sleep in humans: the hypnagogic state of consciousness, during the onset of sleep. Mental phenomena that occur during this “threshold consciousness” phase include lucid thought, lucid dreaming, hallucinations, and sleep paralysis.” During the process of attempting this...some people reported hearing their name called, seeing random patterns, and body jerks (which are called myoclonic jerks.) When you’re in this stage it’s as if you’re fighting to stay awake. But actually, this is the first step of sleep.

Every night your body switches between a cycle of REM and NREM states. This happens around every 90 minutes or so, you switch between light sleep and deep sleep and the cycle continues. It supposedly happens around 6 times a night (but varies depending on how long you sleep at night.) The changes between REM and NREM are found by the change of your heart rate, brain activity, muscle tension, and body temperature.

NREM Sleep

State one: In this stage, you should begin to drift off. Your muscles relax, your body temp and blood pressure decrease, and you breathe slowly. As the production of Alpha waves begin to slow, your awareness noise, light, and feeling begin to zone out. Your eyes would exhibit slow movements and this is an easy state to awake you from.

State two: If stage one is undisturbed, state two will enter the stage. In this, you will feel a deeper sense of relaxation and like before�� All blood pressure, heart rate, breathing, and temp decrease. Your brain produces slower theta waves which will soon introduce “sleep spindles.” Sleep spindles are higher forms of activity. This process usually lasts 10-20 minutes.

State three: This is a deeper form of sleep. You couldn’t be awakened very easily from this state. Yet again temp, blood, and heart rate decrease. Your brain should still be producing theta waves, which gradually change to lower and larger delta waves.

State four: State four is when you are sleeping deeply now but not dreaming. In this stage, it’s difficult to be awoken due to your body’s sensitivity level. In this stage, most of your brain waves are delta waves now.

Back To Rem

Around 20 minutes after being in stage 4 of NREM, your cycle goes back to states 2 and 3. But you won't return to stage one and wake up. Instead, you will just go to REM sleep. This is called “prime dream mode.” The electrical waves/movements in your brain put you in a state similar to being awake. Your eyes will move from behind the lids. Research says this is because your mind is focusing on the dreams. During this, your heart rate speeds up, oxygen increases and so does your temp. After this REM is induced and what is commonly referred to as Sleep Paralysis will begin. This is when all muscles in the body are immobilized. As far as we know - it’s believed to prevent us from “acting out” in our dreams and hurting ourselves.

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Side Note

This happens multiple times a night. The more time you enter State 4 sleep, the more rejuvenation you receive. The more time you spend in sleep, the less time that 3 and 4 will happen and gives you more time to spend in REM/dreaming stage. Also, from the reading, they say early morning dreams are more vivid and happen longer.

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End of the dreaming

When you begin to wake up, you’ll experience “hypnopompia.” This is very similar to hypnagogia, This stage leaves you disoriented and makes you feel “loopy.” It could make you feel like there is pressure on your chest and sometimes causes you to feel, see, and hear things. Such as someone walking into your room and standing there. This process can be described as your mind waking up before your body does. Many times this does happen, but we have no memory of it ever happening. But when people do remember they describe it as frightening or disturbing. If you do happen to experience this, it’s said to remain calm and your body will eventually wake up.

How can you recall your dreams?

The first good step is to keep the visual fresh in your mind! As well, try to remember as many details as possible. Despite whether you only remember fragments or “none at all.” There are a few fun activities you can do!

Window of Opportunity

This method is intended to improve your observational skills, which does improve dream recall. Pick a comfortable spot to sit in, specifically near a window. You need the window. Take a few moments to unwind and relax. Just let your gaze look wherever you like - as long as you're looking at what’s out there. Notice as much detail as you can while being focused. BUT do not feel stressed by it. Don’t “worry” about it either. Just focus on the details. Take in as much as you can like… what color is the sky? Are the trees yellow and brown or green? Are there people? If so, what do they look like? What are they wearing? Once you are done with the scene and you feel comfortable, bring out a notebook and write down every bit of information you remember. It doesn’t matter the order and neither does it if you don’t remember something specific. It can be general things if that’s all you remember. Also, note the emotions you felt as you looked at certain things. Were you tired? Happy? Wanting this to be over? Write that down. If you’re artistic, you may sketch it! Sometimes sketching the scene may help you remember things you didn’t recall before.

Dream it up a bit

After this exercise, you might want to do better/enhance the skill. When you do, you should try being “more creative.” How so? Make it more “dreamier.” Pretend you are actually there in the scene. Strolling a path, smelling the roses, looking at the lake, etc. Once you’re done, jot it down. Remember to do this in the present tense. Write the details of what you saw and then implement yourself into it - just as you imagined.

Rewrite

If gazing out of a window is not something you want to do. There is another way! To do so you need to recall an event that happened in your day and pretend like it was a dream! Write it down in the present tense. Here’s an example: You went to eat lunch. Since you did you need to ask these questions:

•What time do I leave and arrive?

•What am I wearing?

•What’s the weather like?

•What day of the week is it?

•How am I feeling?

•Do I speak to someone?

•How do I travel?

•Am I alone?

You can do this for however long you’d like. Recalling all of these details as if they were a dream helps your mind remember said dreams.

Suggestion/Affirmations

Yep! Suggestion! This is effective and simple. All you have to do is, very often, suggest to yourself that you WILL remember your dreams. You can post reminders on your phone, ask someone to say “hey you're going to remember your dreams” every so often, or even use a “suggestion trigger.” A suggestion trigger is something to remind you to repeat your phrase. A good “suggestion trigger” is whenever you check the time!

Dream Journals and Sleep

Dream journals are your own personal journal and there is no “right or wrong” way to keep one. It’s made based on what you observe from your dreams. Simply put. The most important part of keeping one is that you feel comfortable with it. Here are a few small suggestions before going to bed:

Pick one that suits you.

Yes, it may be nice to buy one of those fancy dream journals that are marketed as such. But you may get it and spend money on something you really didn’t like. So go with what suits you and makes you comfortable.

Prepare yourself and your place.

Avoid anything strenuous before bed and avoid anything that might disrupt your sleep cycle. If you are a tidy type and need a clean room, then tidy before bed. Be sure the room is the right temperature for you and get into something cozy. You may be too lazy to do so but this will help your sleep and your remembrance of detail. It will also make sure you won’t be distracted by small annoying things.

Place the journal near you when you sleep.

Also, keep a pen! If you wake up at night you can write it ASAP.

Before going to bed, open to a new page.

Note where you are and where you live, the date, the time, etc. Leave a space at the top so you can title it later depending on the dream you had. Summarize all events of that day you can think of and write down your reminder phrase! It is optional if you want to include your mood and your health state. Before going to bed, repeat your reminder phrase

Upon Waking Up

Set your clock 15 minutes earlier than your normal wake time. This gives you more time to write your details. If possible, wake up to classical music or radio. Alarms cause sudden noises and sudden noises have been proven to make you forget dream memory upon waking up. As you begin to wake up, lie down, and keep your eyes shut. This will help “cement” the details into your subconscious. (Supposedly.) Without trying to change or manipulate any thoughts, try to recall the details of your dream When you feel comfortable enough, start writing anything you remember. Write in the present tense. Try to relive the dream as you write it. You can start anywhere in the dream, even go backward. The more important aspect is keeping somewhere to relive. Once you finished you should write the time you woke up and choose a title. Assigning a title and table of contents will help your mind's ability to make connections.

Dreamwork during the day

If you couldn’t recall your dream, take some time (when you can) to write about what your day as if it were a dream. Just like what we mentioned above. To “enhanced” this exercise you can imagine that you really did recall something. For example (come from the book): “I awake with a vague feeling of having been in a sunny place. There are brightness and warmth.”

Dream Incubation. What is it? And how do I use it?

Around the world there are places called “Dream temples” These temples were made in the honor of Asklepios, the god of healing. Snakes were allowed to move freely around these temples because it was believed they were secret symbols to evoke the powers of gods. As you may know, there is a popular symbol of snakes. The Caduceus! It’s two snakes wrapped around a staff. This is mainly based on the symbolism that snakes are “healers.” Both emotional and physical. Dream temples were most often placed in a rural area away from loud places. Many people would travel, even from long distances, to stay in these places to receive answers or enlightenment. These temples had a set intention for visitors/seekers to clarify the outcome they wanted. Because of the focus and encouragement received from the temples, it’s said it’s not unusual to receive the specific message they looked for. Not all cultures and places had these temples, but it didn’t stop them from Dream Incubation. (More on that in a minute). The Egyptians wrote the questions they wanted on linen and tied it around the wrist while meditating. Some soaked it in oil and burned it with incense while praying. Then they went to sleep, expecting the answer.

As you know, these days you can’t go to your local supermarket and pass by a dream temple. But, dream incubation is still widely practiced. People still to this day to "program" their dreams.

Your Temple

When trying to induce your routine to practice dream incubation, it can be simple or complex. Whatever you find comfortable. The temple of yours can be anywhere you find comfortable and where you are willing to practice the routine. (Such as writing, scripting, daydreaming, etc). But the main idea is to focus on your desired message.

Here are a few steps:

•Choose your phrase

•Form a clear intention

•Prepare your mind

•Get comfy

•Relax

•Visualize your dream’s solution (Ex: reading it, having the advice handed to you, seeing the answer played out in your very own personal “dream drama.”)

•Think about your reaction to the answer

Incubating dreams

When incubating your dreams you need a pre-set idea. Where do you want to be? In what way do you want your answer given? What symbols represent this? Afterward, start daydreaming about it, try to feel whatever it is that would be around you. Choose phrases that will affirm that it’s what you will dream of. Repeat that as many times possible. Often reflect on how it would feel being there and when you wake up and log as usual. But because you are programming this yourself - there may be nothing to interpret. But it will induce what you wanted to see. (A/N. As I’m reading this book and typing these notes I'm realizing how close they were to figuring out the shifting process. I-. Bye-). But take this moment to think through what happened, there may have been a messaged slipped in.

Lucid Dreams (Fun Fact!)

Believe it or not, the earliest record of lucid dreaming was recorded in the 4th century B.C. This happened when Aristotle, himself, was writing his work ‘On Dreams.’ He said quote on quote “For often when one is asleep, there is something in consciousness which declares that what then presents itself is but a dream.” In 1867 Hervey de Saint-Denys wrote “Dreams and How to Guide Them.” This book was intended to show you the techniques he used to achieve a state of realization.

To Lucid Dream

When you lucid dream, you can do anything you please when you realize it is nothing but a dream. So how can you tell if it's a lucid dream? How do you lucid dream? Well, there are multiple ways.

Record it.

Record what you remember. Like we talked about with a dream journal.

Power of suggestion.

Even a simple phrase that “I am aware I am dreaming.” Is simple enough! Repeat this during the day and at night.

Checking your reality.

A commonly favored thing is “reality checks.” This requires you to test your surroundings and ask if they are real or not. If you notice something is off, it’s possible you once played it off. But if you looked closer, it was a dream.

Look for inconsistencies.

It’s found that a few things do not remain consistent in a dream. For example lights, watches, the time, sounds, etc. Because these changes are not normal, you know it’s just a dream.

Now that there are tips to know if you’re in a dream; Here are some to help you practice lucid dreaming/become in the state.

Visualize your everyday life (when awake) like a dream! Convince yourself as every small thing is just a dream. Whenever you’re doing something, take a look around and think of it as a dream. Believe that everything you do can be changed because you will it. Daydreaming the small things have changed will help as well. The tree outside? It’s not dead. It’s in full bloom! These practices are intended to help you make conscious and unconscious choices.

#desired reality #ideal reality #shiftblr #shifting community #desired reality community #all about dreams #reality shifting #realities #shifting realities #shifting #manifestation #reality #dreaming #lucid dreaming

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isa-ly · 3 years

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THE TRUTH UNTOLD

TW: mental illness, eating disorders, depression, anxiety

I know the title might be a fun little hint to a certain k-pop song (which is a reference about three people will understand) but despite that little quirky pun, this post I’m about to write and that you’re about to read, is not gonna be easy. Or witty, or funny like some of the previous posts were. It’s most definitely going to be the longest one, though.

Because, in all honesty, this is the one post I have been absolutely dreading to make. However, it’s also the post that I kind of started this blog for because, unlike my depression, anxiety, panic attacks, insomnia and quarter-life crisis, this is something only my closer circle and those who happened to ask, really know about.

And, once again in all honesty, this is the actual reason I started therapy almost a year ago. Because in every way possible, shit had hit the fan so hard that there had been nothing left but to step on the emergency breaks. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself here. So, let’s try and start from the beginning.

I’ve talked about my more or less mental breakdown and burn out during my last year of university a few times now. Didn’t spare any details either. However, there is one thing that I’ve been mindfully avoiding that actually took up a pretty big part of that time of my life. The reason I avoided it, was because in my head, I kept running in circles on how I would phrase it and explain it in a way that would a) not sound too shocking and b) not make me look like a complete stranger to people who, until now, had no idea of what I’m about to say.

Eventually, though, I realized that I was doing the exact same thing I’ve always been doing. Which was searching for excuses to not talk about the biggest struggle in my life and make myself vulnerable. And I don’t want to make these excuses anymore because, really, all they ever did was harm me. So, here goes nothing.

Hello. My name is Isa. And for over a year now, I have been suffering from an eating disorder called anorexia nervosa.

The sheer act of just having typed this sentence out on virtual paper, threw me so hard that I spent a good 15 minutes simply staring at my laptop screen just now. I told you, this wasn’t going to be easy.

Since the only place I’m really “promoting” this blog on is Instagram, I’m just going to try and somehow use that as a segue to this post. Over the last year, I’ve received quite a few messages from friends, family and sometimes also random acquaintances, whenever I posted a picture of myself on my story or feed. Some of them were jokey, some of them interested and a very select few were concerned, too. All of them were about my apparent change of appearance, however. Of course, I didn’t only receive those messages online. The people who know and see me in real life, the above mentioned inner circle, have known for a while and some of them, as much as I wish they hadn’t had to, saw all of it happen in real life.

I know I included it in the trigger warnings already, but I want to point it out one more time here because I know how incredibly triggering these things can be – especially to people who have struggled or are struggling with similar issues. So, if reading about body image, dieting, weight loss and eating disorders makes you uncomfortable or could trigger bad memories and behaviour, this post might not be the one for you. I don’t want to be patronizing, you know what’s best for you, just wanted to make sure to highlight it before I continued.

I also want to preface this by saying that I can and only will talk about my own experience here. I am in no way, shape or form an expert on mental health and eating disorders and what I’m going to say and talk about, is purely a narration of what happened in my own life. Eating disorders, just like any other mental illness, are very individual and I do not want to come off as blurting out generalizations about them. Just so that we’re clear here.

Therapy taught me that the psychological, biological and/or societal origin of eating disorders is still almost completely scientifically unknown. It is for that exact reason, that the various EDs are some of the most stereotyped and stigmatized mental illnesses there are – which is also why it took me so long to actually pluck up the courage and energy to talk about it. I imagined people reading about my anorexia and thinking: “Oh, I bet it’s because she was bullied for her weight when she was a kid”, or: “Well, just another one of those girls who wanted to be skinnier”. Possibly also: “I never would have thought that someone like her would end up with an eating disorder. She always seemed so confident!”

So, to combat the fear of coming off like a cliché or sob story, I knew simply had to tell my whole and honest story. Because even if I’m worried about being put in a box or labelled as something I’m not, it still happened. And it’s still my story. And to move on from it, or better, with it, I have to tell it. And I have to tell it right.

So, here it goes.

Ever since I can remember, I have disliked my body. Growing up as a Human Person™ in this society, I realize that’s not really something that makes me stand out (which, if you think about it, is actually incredibly fucking sad). Apart from my own self, however, no one ever really shamed for the way that I looked and I was also never bullied or teased by others because of it. So, that’s a no for the “Oh, I bet it’s because she was bullied for her weight when she was a kid”-stereotype. It makes me want to gauge the patriarchal beauty standard’s eyes out, to think that never actively having been shamed for my body or weight, is something that I can consider a “privilege” in this world. I’m aware that a lot of kids and adults don’t have that twisted privilege, which, again, just makes me want to set the world of body ideals on fire, but I don’t want to diverge too much from the point of this post.

Remember that society I was talking about? Yeah, with that around, having someone point out or shame you for how your body looks different from what’s considered the ideal, isn’t really something that’s necessary in order for you to still notice it and develop massive insecurities. So, even though I was “lucky” and “privileged” enough to have avoided being bullied for my body by real-life people, I still grew up not liking the way I looked, always noticing that my stomach, my thighs, my arms, my boobs, my butt, were different to those of the girls everyone called pretty. Which inevitably led to me harbouring a contained, yet undeniably significant amount of self-hatred for the way my body looked over time.

Now, I might have been one of many body-conscious teenagers, but, in quite stark contrast to that, I was also a seemingly self-confident one. Or at least I really, really wanted to be. It’s what everyone always told me I came across as. The loud, opinionated and self-assured girl, who didn’t care what people thought of her. Maybe that was to compensate for my own insecurities, maybe it was for protection, or maybe it was also because I just knew, or hoped, it was the right way to go. I believed and preached that how I looked, what I weighed and what I ate didn’t matter, both to myself and to all of my friends and family. I knew I was absolutely fine the way that I was, as long as I was physically and mentally healthy. I’ve always known that, and I fully believe in it too. And yet, here I am. About to tell you what both you and me are already suspecting: The story of how that knowledge didn’t end up protecting me as well as I thought it would.

Despite me always having believed in not giving a shit about beauty standards, ideal body types and the obsession with whatever the fuck “skinny”, “slim thick” and “lean” are supposed to be, it undeniably had an effect on me. Just like it has an effect on literally every other person, regardless of gender or age. It’s pretty much passed onto us the minute we’re born, like a part of our literal DNA. It makes me sick to my very core, but I always knew that this insecurity, no matter how much I knew it shouldn’t have ever been one and no matter how much I fought to stand above it, was woven into the very fabric of my being. The very minute we learn to interact with others and the world around us, the clear, limited and completely unrealistic image of how we’re supposed to look in order to meet societal expectations, is indoctrinated into our innocent brains – consciously, subconsciously and in literally every other way possible.

I don’t want to give a lecture on how society, media, and peers make us believe it’s necessary and right to chase bodies that, realistically, no one can ever outrun, but I felt like saying at least this much about it to set the base for what’s about to come. Certainly, this almost innate, underlying dislike for my body – or most parts of it – wasn’t the sole reason for developing an eating disorder in my early twenties. But it was most definitely a cruel predisposition that played a big part in how my anorexia unfolded and the leverage it had and still has on me.

I mentioned in the beginning how, despite it being one of the most common mental health disorders, there’s barely any scientific explanations as to how eating disorders really come to be. Which is why assuming that being unhappy with my body and the way it looked was the only reason I slipped into disordered eating, would simply be false. After all, I lived twenty-one years of my life being more or less fine with it. It was an insecurity, yes, but it didn’t dictate my every day life, it didn’t influence how I lived it. So, the “Well, just another one of those girls who wanted to be skinnier”-stereotype, doesn’t really prove to be fully true either.

Which leaves the last assumption: “I never would have thought that someone like her would end up with an eating disorder. She always seemed so confident!”

To which I can only say: Yeah, uh ... same? I mean, do you really think there’s anyone who found themselves developing an eating disorder only to think: “Oh, yeah, that makes sense, I always knew I’d end up like that!” Sorry, that was a bit dark. I know that this assumption is something that mostly I myself am worried about and that there’s no reason for me to actually get defensive. However, while most reactions to me talking about my eating disorder have been very comforting and caring, I’ve also had a few quite unpleasant experiences and well, those tend to have the harsher impact. So, please forgive my mildly cynical reasoning here.

Right, then. If I didn’t ever get bullied for my body or weight, didn’t just want to “be skinny” and really am that confident – how did this happen?

Well, I’ve already given part of the explanation just now, when I told you about my unfortunate predisposition of never really having fully loved or accepted my body. The other part of the explanation, lies in pretty much every other post I have written so far. Most of all the latest one: Control.

It was a real challenge to have written that last entry without ever mentioning my anorexia with even one word. Because really, for me personally, control is literally all it ever was and will be about. My therapist told me that it’s quite common in other eating disordered people too. But again, I’m not here to talk about anyone else, I’m here to talk about my own experience. And it starts just like I said in my last post: With losing control. And in many ways, the combination of always having disliked my body and suddenly having slithered into a massive life-crisis where I felt like I had lost all power and control over everything, was the very dangerous mixture that started it all.

I don’t want to make it about that too much, but it’s still worth mentioning that after my semester abroad, which had ended in January of 2018, I had gained some weight. Weight that, having changed up my diet a few years prior, I had actually lost and that all of a sudden, was now back on again. It had just been a very wonderful yet also stressful time abroad and well, heaps of uni work, very little sleep and the general student lifestyle, just caused me to pile on a few kilos. The part of me that genuinely never gave a fuck about body standards, once again did genuinely not give a fuck about that. And yeah, when I came back, there were the occasional family remarks of “Look at you, gained quite a bit of weight there, didn’t you?” (which I know are made with no malicious intent, by the way, but, forgive me if I say this: just shut up) and I had also obviously started noticing that none of my old clothes fit anymore and I did indeed look a lot larger than in any of my older pictures. Was that a blow to my self-built confidence because we live in a society that rewards weight loss and punishes weight gain? Sure. Was that when I developed anorexia? Nope.

Because, if you’ve been following the timeline of my mental health issues that I have oh so passionately been crafting in the last few posts, it wasn’t until autumn of 2018 that I first started struggling with my back then still undiscovered control issues, which lead to my anxiety, depression, insomnia and – now that I’m telling my whole story – my eating disorder. Or, to be fully correct, disordered eating, back then. Because just like the rest of my mental health issues, this too, crept up on me slowly at first.

I remember the first time I had this very simple thought. At least, it felt simple. Simple, but so deeply wrong and dangerous. And yet once I had had it, it wouldn’t leave anymore. It should have rang all the alarm bells in my head. It really should have. But I understand now, that the reason I had this very simple, deeply wrong and dangerous thought, was because I was desperate to control something, anything at all. Regain power over just one part of my life, whatever that might be.

So, that thought kept coming back. Over and over again:

What if I just stopped eating?

I would snap out of it and tell myself: “What the fuck, Isa? That’s ridiculous. Also, what does that even mean, are you crazy? You love food, you love eating it and you need it to survive.” And I’d ignore it again. But it would come back. Every now and then, usually in the moments where I felt worst about myself, it would echo stronger in my own head and ignoring it would become harder and harder. It was a thought so insane and so ridiculous, I told nobody about it. My rational mind knew that it was totally stupid to even consider something like that, and so I felt stupid for doing it. Which is why talking about it was off the table for me, back then. It was my dirty, little, silly secret and I was going to keep it that way.

I was smarter than that, I knew better than that.

It didn’t change the fact that I felt so lost in university though, and even more lost in life, and so that shitty thought just wouldn’t leave me alone. Until eventually, I budged. And that’s the part where it really stops being witty and smart-assy.

Because that’s the part where I made the decision to only eat once a day. And it was a decision that I fought for with an iron will. A decision that gave me control. Over all the wrong things.

I said I would tell my whole and honest story, but in case you were wondering: No, I’m not gonna give any numbers, not when it comes to weight and not when it comes to calories. Mainly because the only thing they do is create competition and shock value. Even to people who don’t struggle with eating disorders. And apart from that, they’re also triggering to me, even if it’s my own story. So, all I’ll say is that I limited myself to one meal a day. For an entire year. It didn’t always work, thank God for that in hindsight. But I tried to do it every day nonetheless, and even though it wasn’t a by-the-books eating disorder yet (which is a whole other rant I have but that’s not for now), it completely ruined my relationship with food, my body image and my own self-worth.

Every time I ate, I would feel guilty, it made me feel like a failure. I had never experienced this kind of shame before, the idea of feeling accomplished whenever I managed to go without eating for almost an entire day. It was this sick sense of pride and, you guessed it: Control. And yet it wasn’t enough, because my body would obviously fight back, demanding food with every bit of power and rage it had over me. I felt awful. On top of university stress, panic attacks, anxiety, depression and insomnia, I was now also hungry almost all the time. And when I had my one meal a day, I wouldn’t enjoy it. I would simply gorge on it because I was so depleted and ravenous. And then I would feel guilty and hate myself for it.

This went on for many months. I hid it as best as I could and in most social situations, I would make exceptions so that people wouldn’t notice. Exceptions I would hate myself for, but they had to be made to keep this habit my aforementioned dirty, little secret. It was like an entire new personality was starting to form inside my own. A dark and hateful one that chipped away at all that confidence and rational I had built over the years. A few close friends suspected eventually that something was off, and some of them asked about it but I would immediately play it off as just not feeling well because of all my other mental struggles, the ones they already knew about. It was an excuse that made sense, so no one really dug any deeper. And I couldn’t really have given another explanation back then anyway. Because again, I didn’t know yet why any of this was happening. I didn’t know that not eating was a twisted and horrible coping mechanism, that I had developed to gain back some sense of control in my life.

At that point, I had started weighing myself too. Something that had given me a big, bad shock when I first saw the number on the scale. In my mind, it was big and bad too. I knew how much I had weighed pre-semester-abroad. And so I knew how much I must have gained and by now also lost again. And yet that number was still way too big. It crushed me. And sadly, only spurred me on more. I would try not to eat. I would “fail”. I would hate myself. Rinse and repeat.

And no one knew what was going on. Least of all me.

It got a little bit better over the summer of 2019, just like the rest of my mental health did. That was around the time I had finally made the decision to take a gap year and figure out all my issues. And that included the very bad eating habits I had developed over the last year. In a way, that decision was also a way of me gaining back control, which was presumably why all my other bad coping strategies, including the not eating, faded away a little. No more nightly panic attacks. No more insomnia. And a lot more breakfast, lunch and dinner. I still didn’t like my body, I was still scared of the number on the scale. But I was ready to turn my life around again, get therapy and fight that nasty, dangerous habit I had let myself fall into.

Unfortunately, as I already mentioned in previous posts, the therapy I was so clearly in desperate need of, didn’t work out as quickly as I had wished (again, thanks for that, health care system). I had gone to my first ever assessment where they had diagnosed me with anxiety and depression disorder. And, actually, the psychiatrist that I had had my first ever session with, had also decided to diagnose me with anorexia nervosa because according to her, while I hadn’t ticked all of the eating disorder boxes yet, I definitely did show signs of eating disordered and anorexic behaviour. To me, that had sounded quite ridiculous and harsh at the time. Anorexia? Pft, no way, I didn’t look like the girls from the shocking posters and depressing documentaries, it was no where as serious as that. (Tip of the hat to those stigmas and stereotypes I was talking about earlier)

But of course, she was right. However, they didn’t have a free spot for one on one therapy and group sessions weren’t really what I was looking for either. So, I went on a waiting list and never heard back from them again.

The cold season crept back in and the wonderful, warm and sunny-safe bubble I had lived in all summer, burst as quickly as it had been blown into existence. Everyone went back to work, back to uni, back to life. And I ... well, I went back to being lost. To not knowing what to do. To having to write my thesis I still couldn’t write for some reason. To having panic attacks. To having insomnia.

To not eating.

Only that after a year of being so miserable whenever I ate food and still feeling so awful in my own body, I decided I would have to change the way I was going about it. In my extremely mentally fragile mind, I thought I had to step it up if I really wanted results. And, as I like to say it, that’s when shit really hit the fan. In a way, it felt like I had spent an entire year sitting on a roller coaster ride that was slowly climbing up the incline, getting closer and closer to the inevitable drop. And just like on any actual roller coaster, when that drop came, it came fast.

It was no longer about just eating one and any meal a day. In the matter of a week or two, it became about numbers, calories, measurements, grams, milliliters. All of a sudden, I found myself meticulously writing down every single thing I ate and when I had eaten it. The food groups kept shrinking and so did my portions and the amount of calories I would consume in a day. I would set a new limit on Monday and decrease it again by Wednesday, pushing myself harder, restricting more and more with every week. All I could think about was food. And all I could do was not eat it. In what felt like a matter of seconds, a worry, a fear, a habit had turned into a full-fledged obsession. An addiction. And that’s when anorexia entered my life.

I’ve re-written this part over and over again because I’m desperately trying not to make it sound like a pseudo-romantic and tastelessly dramatic young adult novel. But I realize that’s just my fear of sounding like a cliché again. So, I’ll stop scratching and writing everything anew now, and just keep going.

In the first few days and weeks of crashing into this new, horrible world, I remember yet again thinking another very simple, yet dangerous and devastating thought. The one beside “What if I just stopped eating?”. And this thought, to me personally, was even scarier than the last one.

It was the thought of: “What if I can never eat again?”

Because that’s exactly what anorexia felt like to me.

Many people describe it as a whole other person in their head. Almost like a foreign entity, taking over your life. And while I very strongly relate to these descriptions, I have learned that it’s best for me to not always manifest my eating disorder into a separate identity to my own, because in certain times, that gives it too much power and makes it seem undefeatable. Which it isn’t. So, I’m going to try and describe it in another way. The way I first described it to my therapist. With a metaphor, of course.

It felt like up until this point, I had been sitting in the car that was my own life, driving down the road of my present and future, looking in the rear view mirror at my past. I was the one with the foot on the gas and the breaks, I was the one that decided what turn or exit to take. Autumn of 2018 had felt like breaking down in that car, having to pull over and being lost in the middle of nowhere, without any signs to guide the way. My bad eating habits felt like someone stopping and pretending to help me, jump staring my car and having it tucker slowly again while following me at walking speed, with me still not really knowing where I was going. And finally, anorexia felt like that someone kicking me out of my car, buckling me into the passenger seat, taping my mouth shut and taking over the stirring wheel.

All of a sudden, it felt like I had no say in where I was heading, how fast I was driving or what road I was going down. For over a year, I had used this dangerous and awful habit of coping by not eating, to wield control and have power over something. And now, it had taken that power away again, like a pact with the god damn devil, and had started to use it over me instead. Which is exactly what eating disorders do, and what my anorexia did too. They give you a false sense of control because control is all you want, and yet all you can’t have. All you need to do is replace control with food. Because food is all you want, and yet all you can’t have. Anorexia gave me my own, fucked up metaphor for my control issues.

I knew that what I was doing was more than just dangerous. It was no longer just trying to eat once a day, not managing to and then hating myself. This was barely eating anything at all, setting the bar lower each day and starving myself. And not in the figurative way. I lost weight so rapidly, I could barely keep track. The scale became my second home, the calories my worst enemy and food, or more trying to avoid it, the entire purpose of my life. Nothing else mattered anymore.

Falling into anorexia has been the scariest and most horrible thing I have ever had to go through. It felt like I had lost myself. I was still there, in my own head, somewhere. Still strapped into the passenger seat. But I had no say in any of my actions. I just silently watched and witnessed, obeying everything my eating disorder told me to do. I know I said I usually avoid completely painting it as a separate person in my own head, but back then, back when I was still severely anorexic, that was just what it felt like. Like a literal parasite, that had latched onto me and was sucking me dry of any and every life force and fight I still had left.

All my days would consist of trying to navigate around food, doing my best to avoid it, lying to everyone, most of all myself. I would look up every single nutritional information of everything, every meal at a restaurant, every drink. I had lists where I wrote it all down, tracking my calorie intake and weight loss. Documents that contained all the calories from every single food and also non-food item imaginable. It would start with things like fruits, vegetables and condiments and end with things like tea, vitamins, chewing gum and toothpaste. I would google how many calories a panic attack burned. I would pace up and down my room at night to get my step count higher. I would walk around the city aimlessly for hours every single day to avoid eating, no matter the weather, no matter the time. I would work out at the gym like a maniac and almost pass out every single time afterwards. At family breakfast, I would hide food in my sleeves and socks to avoid eating it. It was more than just ridiculous. It was insanity. But it was an insanity I couldn’t let go of.

Anorexia was the most twisted and horrendous full-time commitment of my life. I had felt lost and without purpose for so long and in the most fucked up way, my eating disorder had given me a 9-to-5 – no, scratch that, a 24-god-damn-7 job to do. It had given me a new purpose and a painful illusion of the things I had craved for so long. Control, willpower, strength, endurance. Only that it was exactly that – just an illusion. Because at the end of the day, I would go to bed empty, both literally and figuratively, feeling nothing and hating everything. Because that’s what anorexia does. It strips you of everything you have in life. It takes away every joy, every pleasure, every interest, hobby, passion or relationship, and it isolates you. Completely. It worms its way into your life and fills out every single nook and crack until it’s the only thing that seems to be left. And therefore, the only thing you still care about.

It felt like losing my complete identity.

Mentally, I was at the worst state I had ever been in my life. This was around December of 2019. I had barely been keeping all of this up for over a month, but I was eating so little that I had lost an alarmingly large amount of weight very fast, which came at a high cost. I was always cold, I couldn’t sleep, I had awful headaches, I kept forgetting conversations and talks I had had with friends, I felt dizzy and nauseous all the time and worst of all, I was so cripplingly depressed that I didn’t even care about any of that. Because when you deprive your brain of nutrients this much, it just shuts down. And that’s what I did, too. I just went into standby mode, as I kept losing more weight and becoming more miserable with each day that passed.

Both my body and mind were running on nothing but adrenaline and thin air and I lived life in this absolutely isolated and horrible auto-pilot, where I continued on as if nothing was happening, as more of me, both physically and mentally, disappeared and was replaced with complete emptiness. I still struggle to find the right words to describe how I felt back then. The only thing that comes close is just complete nothingness. Like a fucking black hole inside of me that had swallowed everything and created a complete vacuum.

Writing about this makes me want to just close my laptop and stop. In a way, it feels like giving my eating disorder and the hardest time of my life a spot light. Like giving it attention and a stage to perform on, to flaunt its dramatic tragedy. I can feel that the anorexia loves that, relishes every word I’m typing about it, every second of attention I’m giving to it. And hate that, I fucking despise it. Because it doesn’t deserve its own stage. It never did and it never will. So, let’s try and move on to the part where things changed.

Back then, I might have become a master of lying and avoiding most people’s questions about me never seeming to be hungry or wanting to eat. But thankfully, there were a few of my close friends that had started to notice. Not gonna name any names, but you know who you are. And I cannot even begin to say how incredibly thankful and lucky I am to have had you there. Because even when I had given up on myself, you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine, oh no. I was still in a very, very bad place mentally, and my eating disorder was not planning on leaving any time soon.

But, with the help and intervention of said good friends and a few select, eye-opening experiences (that I won’t talk about because they really weren’t ideal but still ended up helping somehow), I finally realized the very obvious but up until then seemingly impossible thing: I had to start eating again. And I had to start now.

And I did.

Looking back, I cannot even express how glad I am about that. Because it had started to become really critical. And I consider myself to be very lucky that it didn’t have to get even worse. That I was still able to make my own decisions and finally get help. Finding therapy was once again not easy but eventually, I did find an outpatient clinic that offered immediate consultation, as well as an appointment with a psychiatrist for medication and an internist for physical check-ups. And, to maybe bring back a slight sense of cheerfulness: It was also when I finally got to meet my therapist Kerstin.

Again, none of this was as easy and swift as it might sound like with me narrating it in those few sentences, but this post can only go on for so much longer before I get too drained and decide to just delete all of it again, so I will try and come to a close, for now. There’s still so much more to tell when it comes to my journey with my eating disorder and my mental health, because it’s nowhere near finished. And worry not, I will tell it – not so much for the sake of those of you who read it, but more so for my own. But for now, I want to finish by saying this much – mainly to myself again, but also to anyone else who might need to hear it:

I know it might feel like you don’t care.

About yourself, about what happens to you, about the future, about happiness. I know it might feel like you’re faking everything, lying to everyone and just pretending all the time. I know you might feel so horribly and painfully empty that all you want to do is sit still in the void of your own head and let the misery wash over you in dreadful peace. I know you might think that the only sense of comfort you can find, lies in the things that hurt you most. I know your pain seems like an old friend, one that will never leave you and therefore is worth staying close to. I know that continuing to fight on and struggling through life and all the hardships it throws at you, sometimes feels so impossible, that it seems easier to just give in and give up.

The thing about that is, though: It’s fucking bullshit.

It’s nothing but a very mean and disgusting way of all your inner pain, trauma and warped coping mechanisms to try to pull you down to keep you “safe” from things that you can absolutely, completely and totally battle. And, yeah, it sure as shit ain’t easy. God, if I had a dollar for every time I had to pick myself back up after I stepped on a scale, after I ate something that scared me, after I looked in the mirror, after I relapsed, after I went back on track again, after I wished I could just melt into a formless blob and slowly whither away in peace– I would be a rich woman. But neither life nor capitalism work that way, unfortunately. So, why do I still bother?

Well, because after going through hell and back, it’s the only thing I have left. It’s the only option there is.

You might not know who you are. You might not know what you’re doing, where you’re going, if you’re ever going to get better, if you’ll ever feel happy and at home in your own mind, body and life again. But what you can and should know, is that you can always try. Even if it seems pointless, even if it seems like you’re running in circles, wanting to bash your head against the wall because of how senseless it all feels.

You can still try.

And try, and try, and try again. It’s a choice and it is a hard one. Maybe the hardest one you will ever have to make.

But I chose to make it, and I still continue to. Every day. With every morning I wake up, every therapy session I go to, every panic attack I breathe through, every depressive phase I crawl back out of, every meal I eat. I choose to do it, I choose to keep pushing because when it feels like all the bad and dark thoughts are more powerful than me and threaten to swallow me alive, making the choice to fight back as much as I can, is what proves that I am and always will be more powerful than them.

Because this is my life. My body. My head. My brain. My mind. And I’d be a god damn fool to give them up to those inner demons that would never know how to treat them right, how to cherish them and keep them happy, healthy and alive. Because I think we can all agree that, at the end of the day, being happy is a hell of a lot better than being sad and empty. And so, at the end of the day, I realized that nothing and no one, not even my mental health disorders and past traumas, can take away what will always, exclusively and fully belong to me and me only:

My choice, my happiness, my control – the right one, this time.

#mental illness #mental health #therapy #eating disorder #anorexia #depression #anxiety

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szamsson · 4 years

Note

for the prompt thing, could you write about the whole squad being at a party and playing truth or dare? and like asking embarrassing questions or make people do the weirdest dares lol

Currently, everyone was sitting in the living room. They had been drinking for about 2 hours now and each person was a different level of wasted, strung about in all different positions around the room. Luca was lying vertically on the one person couch, head hung off the front with her legs hooked around the back. Aaron and Amber were sitting on one end of the coach, making out with arms and legs going everywhere. Jana was sitting on the floor with the boys, who were all playing a very sloppy game of cards with rules that made absolutely no sense. She snuggled into Jens’ side as he stared down at her with a grin. Although they weren’t together anymore she still felt most comfortable sharing space with Jens, especially when she was drunk. Robbe giggled loudly, slightly swaying as he knocked over an empty bottle of beer in an attempt to reach for another one. Mid reach, Jens put his hand out to stop him.

“I think I’m gonna cut you off for a little buddy,” Jens said fondly, laughing as Robbe pouted and crossed his arms across his chest. Robbe probably weighed the same, if not less than Jana however his tolerance was no where near as great when it came to alcohol. It was cute, Jana thought as she gazed as a flushed Robbe. He looked so relaxed and happy with a lazy grin on his face, swaying into Moyo’s shoulder. A complete contrast to his demeanour last year.

On the other end of the couch, Zoe and Sander were drinking water, quietly talking amongst themselves. Jana didn’t know when that relationship had blossomed but she assumed it was because they were both always the care takers at the end of the night, not having drunk nearly as much as the others. Jana looked lovingly around a her friends then an idea popped into her intoxicated brain.

She squealed, clapping her hands as she yelled “Truth or Dare!”

Jens and Moyo groaned, whilst Aaron, Amber and Luca all sat up eagerly.

“Are we 10 years old Jana?” Zoe asked, though her tone was playful. Zoe was slowly coming back into herself after her break up with Senne. For a while there, Jana was worried she would never get her friend back.

Luca sat up straighter, making her way down to the floor, whilst Aaron and Amber broke apart, their attention turning to the others in the room. Robbe stood up on unsteady feet, and staggered over to the couch, where he ungracefully flung himself onto Sanders lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and snuggling in. Jana heard Sander whisper, “You okay Angel?” as he held the water up to Robbe’s lips and Jana just about melted where she sat.

“Alright Jana, your idea, you go first.” Jens started.

“Hmmm” Jana said scanning the room, eyes falling on Moyo with a wicked grin plastered on her face. “Moyo, truth of dare?”

Moyo looked slightly scared as he gazed at the evil smirk on Jana’s face. “...Dare” he said tentatively.

“I dare you to text Kato and tell her that you made up a special dance just for her and you can’t wait to show her on Monday.” Everyone laughed at this and Moyo turned bright red.

“No way, no way!” he refused shaking his head, “I think she likes me, you’re gonna ruin my game,”

“What game?” Luca scoffed from her position on the floor, prompting another round of giggles.

“Done,” Jens said from his spot next to Jana. They all turned to him to see him waving Moyo’s phone around in his hands with a smirk. Moyo’s face drops and he lunged for Jens, who just laughs as the other boy tackles him to the ground. The whole group bursts into laugher again as Moyo checks his messages then does a huge face-palm, throwing his phone across the room. “I’m gonna kill you” he mumbles to Jens.

“Okay Moyo, your turn.” Jana said, trying the move the game along.

“Okay Zoe.” Moyo said with a raised eyebrow. Zoe, who was not expecting this looked at him with a shocked face.”Um truth, I guess.” Zoe was somewhat secretive when it came to her private life, so Jana hoped that Moyo wasn’t going to cross a line by what he was about to say.

“If you had to make out with one of the guys here tonight, purely a one off, who would it be?” All the boys whipped their heads around and the girls held their breathe hoping this wasn’t going to send her relapsing back into her post Senne sadness. But Zoe just smiled, looking at each of the boys around the room appreciatively. Each of the boys sat up straighter, puffing their chests out trying to look seductively at Zoe. Which simply made Jana and Zoe burst out laughing at their antics.

“Sander.” Zoe said confidently. All the boys deflated as they let out a low “oooooo,” all heads turning to Sander who was currently cradling a half asleep Robbe against his chest. Obviously not asleep enough because as they all looked at the couple, Robbe almost subconsciously, snuggled further into Sanders chest and mumbled “My Sander.”

All the girls cooed over this as the boys smirked his way. The game continued for another good hour, until nearly half the party was passed out. They ended up learning way too much about Amber’s sex life, dyed Luca’s hair purple and had Jens giving Aaron a lap dance. The night ended in giggles and sleepy sighs and Jana fell asleep with a smile on her face.

#wtfock #wtfock fic #wtfam #myfics

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simmy-ships · 3 years

Text

✎ Simmy’s Writing Desk ✎

It's been a long time since I posted something, and while I've been writing in my own time I just haven't posted my fics here. So let's change that! Let's start off with a favorite of mine with the ikevamp boys!

Warnings: None!

~~~

Sighing to himself for the millionth time in the last hour, Comte once again walked the familiar halls of the Louvre wistfully watching people stare at the various art forms⁠—that some of his residents have made, he thought to himself—in awe. Despite seeing so many faces come and go throughout his very long life, the pure raw expression of joy always made him smile.

Coming to a halt in front of a random stone bust in the mainroom, he glanced over to see a group of people laughing together and excitedly whispering to each other, speaking in what sounds like both English and French. Hearing them switch languages fluently made the blonde painfully reminiscence, closing his eyes as if to block the sight of something. Purposefully trying to push it away.

It's been 7 months since she left.

It's funny. Usually time moves too fast for his liking and yet here he was, still strung up on the woman that left his manor many weeks prior. He can still vividly remember her last night in the mansion and gentle farewell like it was yesterday, as much as he tried to come to terms with it.

- - -

They all were sitting in the dining room, eating one last full dinner together a little earlier than usual. The air was tense as everyone was acutely aware of what time it was, taking wary glances at Akilah as she quietly ate her meal. She was relieved of her duties and wore her modern time clothes, just like how she first arrived.

People like Vincent or Issac couldn't bother picking up their utensils, instead just wringing their hands together nervously or staring down at their laps. Even Theo and Arthur bit their tongues for the day, not wanting to disrupt her while she packed.

They all were waiting for her final goodbye. For her to just up and disappear right from the table.

She finished first, with Comte a close second, and cleared her throat softly. All of the men stiffened as she stood up, pushed in her chair and walked to the barren part of the room. All eyes were on her and she took a steadying deep breath.

"I'm sure you're all aware of what day it is, so I'll make this brief," She said with a warm smile before bowing, hair gracefully falling along with her. "Thank you, all of you...for everything. Getting the chance to meet and befriend you is something I never knew I needed. This past month has been such an amazing experience that I wouldn't trade it for the world...and would happily do again. Without hesitation. I truly appreciate what you've done for me."

The painter was the first to crack, quickly running up to her and crushing her in a hug, wailing that he's glad he met her too and that he'll miss her deeply. The woman wrapped her arms around him, petting his hair with a small heartfelt laugh.

Then one by one, each man approached her and said their piece, some more tight lipped than others, but she understood what they meant all the same. Even Jean was apprehensive when pulling away from her hug.

By the end, the only person left was Comte, who was silently watching from the back with a forlorn look on his face. Everyone must have figured he wanted to say his goodbye in private, as no one questioned him when he offered his hand to her with a sad grin.

"Ready to go?" He murmured, trying to memorize the shape and warmth of her hand in his own. "I hope you don't mind me walking you to the door."

She shook her head, eyes glittering with unshed tears she tried to blink away. "Not at all."

With a final smile back at the residents, the two of them quietly left, walking together down the empty halls towards the double doors that started it all. The closer they got, the more lonely the place seemed to become. As if she was taking the light and warmth with her.

There sat her bag full of her clothes and other apparel and novelties she gained during her stay here, having to leave most of it behind since she simply couldn't take it all at once. The nobleman held both of her hands with the utmost care, looking down at the woman that not only ensnared his heart, but the other men as well.

"Akilah I…" The blonde never stumbled on his words, having been alive for so many centuries to master it and keep up an air of professionalism at all times, but with this, he was at a loss for words. "Please believe me when I say that you've changed us for the better. Having you here, laughing with you, getting to know you...it's been the most pleasant thing I've ever had the joy of experiencing."

The look of adoration and awe on her face nearly made him want to kiss the living daylights out of her but refrained himself, deciding to use his words instead. He hasn't felt this strongly about something like this in a long time.

"You...you are something very special, ma chérie. No one could befriend those men as easily as you. I'm honestly a little jealous that the people in your time will have you longer than us." Hearing her laugh at that last comment made his old heart warm.

"Thank you Comte, for housing me, protecting me, and helping me traverse the 19th century with ease. If I ever have the chance to come back here, I'd like to try and see all of you again." With that said, Akilah wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, making him freeze before holding her with just as much tenacity. "I'll miss you."

Breathing in her scent, her familiar perfume deeply one last time with a final squeeze, he pulled away woefully. "We'll miss you too." A clock in a different room chimed the late hour, a dreadful reminder of her last moments here.

It made his heart clench watching her open the door and grab her bag off the floor, stepping a few feet into the dark hallway filled with unused art pieces before turning back to him with a bright smile.

"Goodbye, Comte."

"Farewell, Akilah."

Watching her silhouette fade into the darkness, he slowly shut the door and heard the quiet sound of time whisking her away.

- - -

Taking in a shuddered breath, the nobleman opened his eyes and looked around. The group has moved on to a different exhibit, people around him didn't seem bothered by how long he stood there for. Probably assumed he was deep in thought by the sculpture in front of him, when in reality, all he could see was her.

Pinching the bridge of his nose in self loathing, he didn't notice or care for the sudden influx of people coming into the museum and all of the mingling scents wafting in. He's grown used to these typical aromas and subconsciously blocked them out.

But one caught him off guard. It stood out among the rest and had his heart hammering in his chest instantaneously.

Whipping around, he scanned the crowd. Looking for tan skin, violet eyes, brunette hair, her infectious smile. Was his mind playing tricks on him or is she seriously here? Did she come back…?

After a few more fruitless moments of eagerly searching the masses, he sighed in defeat before deciding to head back home. He already finished all of his errands here for the month, and tonight is when the door opens again. Maneuvering through the dense groups of people, he was accidentally bumped into and the poor kid apologized profusely for the action.

Putting on his best smile, the blonde waved the kid off and continued on his way, but not before he felt someone tap his shoulder. Exasperated, he was about to make a highly out of character comment until the person spoke up.

"Excuse me, monsieur?" The voice said and he felt as if time stopped for the first time in his long life.

Not wanting to believe it was true just yet, Comte quietly looked back and was met with Akilah's breathtaking smile. She wore a simple dress and was dragging a suitcase with her. How she managed to get it through security crossed his mind briefly before his eyes landed on the item in her palm. Emotions welled up inside him.

"I believe you dropped your tie clip, the kid knocked it off when you bumped into each other. May I put it back on for you?" She offered, eyes softening when seeing his normally aloof mask crumble a bit.

He nodded, remembering back to how they first met, with the same scenario. But this time instead of her earring, it's his custom tie clip. Oh, time was a funny little thing.

"Yes," Comte shakily said, pulling her into a much needed hug and breathing in her comforting scent again. His heart swelled when she nuzzled into his chest with a giggle, allowing himself to indulge just this once. "I'll always say yes to you, ma chérie."

#simmy writes #self insert #its a short one but I'm still really happy with this!#and if you want to read my work outside of tumblr click on my carrd link and go to my masterpost!#I update that more than here #ikevamp comte

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fic-ya-later · 3 years

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Not Gonna Die: Chapter 1

Summary: Castiel is depressed, however he has to return to work even if he doesn’t want too.

Warnings: Mentions of death and depression.

A/N: Hey guys! I am so excited to post this here! If you like what you see send me a message; I’d love to hear your thoughts! My request and taglist are OPEN so let me know if you’d like to join it or like something written! I’m working on honing my writing process and style to work on an original piece I’ve had ideas for so if you are a fellow writer send me a message and we can chat about ideas and processes! I hope you enjoy this work!

Series Masterlist

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Castiel couldn’t tell how many times he had played Clair de Lune, but it was more than the number of whiskey tumblers he had drained in the last two hours of playing. He couldn’t seem to find the end; cadence would lead to cadence and he’d find himself resolving back to the beginning of the piece each time. Each pass through the melody something was different, Castiel’s fingers hesitated on a note, or he dampered a run’s end to cause the chord to linger in his ears. No, Castiel did not like endings. In his small apartment the baby grand echoed with grace. The rain on the glass wall of his apartment created a soft backdrop for the otherwise barren expanse of the room.

A pause in the music filled the air as Castiel reached for the fifth to refill his tumbler, only to find it, to his surprise, empty. What time was it? 11? 12? He couldn't tell any more. He set the bottle on the floor and looked up, running his hands down his face when he saw it. The only picture in the whole house sat on the small table in the corner. The soft hazel eyes smiled at him, and Castiel started another melody as tears swelled in his. This time the melancholy was more than a subtext to the music. He let his fingers linger on each note, the vibrations filling him as Gymnopedie No. 1 filled the room. He would’ve continued like this for hours just as he did the last night, and the night before last, and the one before that, but the vibrating of his phone across the room put an end to his thoughts.

GABE CALLING

With a sigh Castiel silenced the phone. He didn’t need yet another worried sibling bothering him during his self-loathing sabbatical. Not that it mattered. Most of them didn’t care what he was doing, as long as he wasn’t tarnishing the family’s name. Novak. He cursed his father’s last name for the weight it carried. So many knew the Novak technology empire that when they found out Castiel was a part of the family there was a look people would give him which accompanied the customary “why didn’t you follow your dad’s footsteps”. Castiel hated that question. At first he tried explaining that humans are just so interesting, and he felt it was his mission to protect and save them. After he changed his last name people asked why he didn’t capitalise on the familial fortune; he grew tired of explaining that he had all he needed and then some. After he moved away from Boston they would ask what he was running from. Now he had no answer. The past? The future? His family? He didn’t know, but there was something about the beauty of Colorado that just drew him in. There is a real connection to the Earth here. Castiel knew it was where he needed to be the first time he flew out to interview for Boulder City General; if he hadn’t been welcomed to their surgical team, well, he would have flown out to this very house no matter what and become a hermit.

GABE CALLING

Again his brother tried and failed to reach Castiel. The ringtone fell on deaf ears as Castiel was asleep on his sofa, completely dead to the world.

Most of Castiel’s dreams held little power over him. There was the odd dream of his mother which gifted him with comfort and peace. The dreams of wings that left him feeling assured and powerful. Then there were the dreams of forests, forests filled with green which left him waking with the constant uneasy edge of something invisible being out of place. These were the only dreams he cared for; the rest of them he chalked them up to subconscious ramblings of an overworked surgeon. These were the dreams of before. Now mostly he dreamed of red and the whine of equipment.

Blue eyes snapped open. Another of those dreams. With a groan Castiel rolled to his side. 4:12 flashed too brightly into his eyes. He blinked and refocused. May 12. With a sigh Castiel decided the best thing he could do would be to roll himself out of bed and clean up. He returned to work today and the scruff growing down his face and neck simply wouldn’t do. “What have I become?” Steam filled the room and doubt filled his head. “She was just a child.” “You did everything you could” “There had to be something you missed.” Thoughts spiralled through his head as he showered.

Two weeks ago Castiel met a new patient. A girl of only 12 named Claire. One week ago she went into the OR for a routine valve transplant. One week ago Claire died as Castiel stood over her with his decades, it seemed like centuries actually, of knowledge failing him. The operation was supposed to be straightforward, Castiel had accomplished successful surgeries in far worse circumstances, but when she flatlined he was completely at a loss. Nothing in his past hurt worse that the look on her mother’s face as he walked solemnly into the waiting room. Castiel walked out of the hospital that day fully intending on never walking back in. A stranger was the one who convinced him to take a sabbatical rather than retire a whole career early.

GABE CALLING

“Gabe.”

“Hello to you too Castiel.” The silence between the two stretched through the room. “You know what day it is today, right Cassy?”

“Yes. The days don’t change each week Gabriel. I know when Monday is.”

“And we know what happens today. Right?”

“You don’t need to talk to me like I'm a child. I'm trying not to think about it.”

“You’re going to do amazing!”

“Will you bring me lunch?”

“Of course. The usual right?” Cas smiles and hums in response. “Thought so. Don’t stress too much Cassie, I’ll be right down stairs if you need anything.”

“You can do so much better than janitor Gabriel if you ju-”

“Don’t start with me. I’ll work on my life as soon as I can stop worrying about yours little brother. Now get dressed, give Chevy a kiss for me and get your perky ass to the hospital before I have to drag it there myself.”

Gabe hung up before Cas could even retort by inquiring how his older brother knew the shape and lift of his rear, but he did leave a smile on the surgeon's face. As if on cue, knowing her being was mentioned, a meow cut through the empty apartment and the ashen coloured creature wrapped herself around Cas’s legs, her otherworldly eyes staring up at her human with mild disdain. Chevy was a rescue, Castiel took her in after she was dropped off at the clinic Gabe was working at at the time. They all assumed she was blind, her eyes wouldn’t open for weeks, and that she had been hit by a car. The gruff older man who dropped her off had said he would come back for her if she improved, a gift for a family member he said, but then he never came. So Chevy became Castiel’s. After weeks of nursing her wounds and staying up all night to ensure her health, she finally opened her eyes and looked at her new human with mild affection. Upon seeing her eyes Castiel knew she was meant for him, one stark, pure blue eye, and one warm, deep green eye had blinked at him and she decided that he’d do.

“I see you little lady. Let’s get you some food before dad goes to work.” While Castiel was never fond of people in general, he had a soft spot for animals and especially for Chevy. She always was so intune with him, and he wanted the best for her. After her water was freshened and a delicate mix of chicken and cat food mix was placed in her dish up on the counter in the bathroom, Castiel continued to ready himself for work. He showered and shaved quickly, trying not to glance at the scars on his back or on his wrists before dressing in freshly pressed trousers and a white button up.

“You get a kiss from Uncle Gabe this morning.” He scratches the cat’s chin before looking in the mirror one last time, face solemn and firm. “You can do this.”

-------

The hospital was as busy as ever, it was like Castiel had never left, that is until director of surgery Zachariah Adler made himself known. The snivelling man was everything that Castiel considered himself not to be: slimy, greedy, an overall pushover if it meant keeping his image and status, and worst of all he had very little regard for others or the lives that fell into his care--just as long as his numbers look good at the end of the quarter.

“Good to see you back Dr. Allen. I trust your week was...productive?” The director’s tone signalled to Castiel that he had to tread very carefully within the brief conversation.

“Yes Director, very productive. I spent much time focusing on updating my reading on surgical advancements made in the treatment of Abdominal Aortic Aneurysms. It proved quite provoking and has led me to belie…”

“Yes, yes. Very good. I trust we won’t have any more issues then?”

“No sir.”

“Very good.” The director turned on his heel and left as swiftly as he came, and with not so much a nod in Castiel’s direction.

“Good morning to you too.” Cas grumbled as he made his way to his office. Not much had changed, but there was a small layer of dust coating most surfaces he would have to wipe off on his lunch today. The tiny office was perfect for the surgeon’s needs. The north and east walls were adorned with meticulously organised and cared for bookshelves. The south wall held a bulletin board next to the door, and the west wall was nothing but glass. That overlooked Boulder City and the mountain range beyond. His desk was always kept neat, the only clutter taking the form of an organiser for his active case files and his in/out box, which had far more in it that he would’ve liked at this point, but that is the life of a surgeon.

Just as he’d settled in there was a tap on the door.

“Come in.” Cas absentmindedly called out as he remained buried in a case file that required some attention.

“Dr. Allen?”

“Mhhh.”

“Doctor Bradbury needs you for a consultation.” The voice was firm but cautious.

“Is it urgent or shall I schedule her in?” Castiel still had yet to look up from his case file, consultations were often needed when a surgery or procedure could potentially have adverse effects on a patient beyond the single issue.

“She already has requested you for a 10 am. If that’s amenable of course.”

“Mhhhm. That will do, please tell her I will be in my office Dr….” Blue eyes meet deep green.

“Nurse. Uh, Winchester.”

“Yes, thank you Winchester. Have you worked for Dr. Bradbury long?” The tanned face was not among the carefully catalogued members of staff within Castiel’s brain.

“First day. I will let her know you’re available. Thank you Dr. Allen.” As quickly as he came he was gone and Cas was left staring blankly at the empty doorway, wondering why those eyes captivated him so. There was a faint smell of leather lingering throughout the room that continued to mildly distract him for the remainder of his boring morning of answering emails and setting up appointments for referred clients. Just before he had his meeting with Dr. Bradbury, he was tempted to look up the new nurse in the directory, but stopped himself out of habit. New people often intrigued him, and he knew he could come on quite strong to the ‘uninitiated’ as Gabe called it. Perhaps he would be able to run into him at some point, it would seem those green eyes captivated Cas in a way he was unfamiliar with.

Another knock on the door. This one he was expecting, so he rose and greeted his friend and colleague warmly.

“Cas!” Once the door was shut OBGYN and friend Charlie Bradbury has her arms wrapped snuggly around Cas’s shoulders, he could feel the grin through his lab coat.

“Hello Charlie, it’s good to see you.”

“You too! How are you doing? You cant just ignore me like this; I didn’t know where you were for a whole week! You even missed theme night at the Roadhouse!” The bubbling redhead would go on forever if he let her.

“Charlie.” She quiets. “I’m okay, and yes I will be going to the Roadhouse tonight, and yes I know it’s cowboy night” --- “and girl” --- “Cowperson night. And I wasn't ignoring you, I was taking a brief leave of absence to deal with personal matters. If you wish, we can arrange lunch this week and I can fill you in.” She eagerly nods. “What did you need to see me for?”

“There's the Dr. Castiel Novak I know.” The resulting glare from the blue eyes makes her shiver. “Sorry Castiel. It's a habit. I’ve known you too long.”

“I know, please just be careful. I do not wish for certain members of faculty to know my upbringing or history. I've been passing as human for this long; I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Of course,” She nods sympathetically. While most people were open and accepting to the supernatural since the fall of heaven and closing of hell, many people were still quite superstitious and prejudiced against any nonhumans. “Well, to business. I've got a case that's really troubling me. It’s quite delicate, as the case is slightly personal to one of my staff members. I have a patient. Jessica Moore. She just came in for her routine prenatal and I discovered a heart murmur. I think we might have a tricuspid atresia. To make matters worse Ms Moore is having a difficult pregnancy to say the least. Her attachment is weak and she’s beginning to show signs of preeclampsia.”

“That is quite a combination.”

“Yes it seems that childbearing does not become her. She's the girlfriend of the brother of one of my nurses. I was hoping I could get you in for her next scan, she's due to have another ultrasound at 26 weeks. I’m worried we are going to end up having to either induce her or order a cesarean to maintain both of their healths.” Charlie’s face contorted with sadness at that. Castiel always admired the care she had for her patients.

“When would this be?” He opened his diary.

“Two weeks, Monday.”

“Yes I can be there. Have someone drop by the details later in the week so I can ensure I am up to date on the case.”

“I’ll have Dean drop them off to you tomorrow them.”

“Dean... that’s not a name you’ve used before.”

Charlie smiled at Cas cheekily. “Nothing gets by you Cas. Dean is a new midwife in my department. Came to me straight from the military believe it or not. He’s well over qualified for working with me, but I’m not complaining that I have the most capable, attractive, nerdiest midwife in the west at my fingertips.” She flashed a grin.

“How do those last two make him an effective nurse?”

“They don’t but I wanted to see your reaction. You met him this morning right?”

“Ah so that was the mystery nurse.”

“Yes. Now you can’t go scaring him away. He's already been invited to join the Roadhouse gang. Garth asked him this morning. The two are becoming rather fast friends I’d like to think. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes Charlie, I’ll be there with spurs on.”

“Kinky…” She winks as she leaves the room, and leaves Castiel to his thoughts.

As the day drug on, Castiel became so busy he barely noticed when his lunch hour came up. Jumping out of his chair he swapped his lab coat for a cardigan and went to meet his brother for the lunch he was promised.

#my writing #supernatural #dean x castiel #chapter one #Not Gonna Die #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #destiel fanfic #au

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daggerzine · 4 years

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R.E. Seraphin molds tiny shapes into big songs.

Though he’s been on the scene for a while now (with different bands) I hadn’t heard the music of Bay Area musician R.E. “Ray” Seraphin until this year via a cassette called Tiny Shapes via Paisley Shirt Records (more on the label below). His first real band was Talkies, which he discusses below (and I have enjoyed), but he seems to have really come into his own this year with that cassette and a new EP, A Room Forever, which came out just a month or so ago. In his music you’ll hear influences of 80’s jangle pop as well as some deeper post-punk stuff (and for more current stuff I hear whispers of Dean Wareham and his bands and Wild Nothing). Reading below he seems very well grounded and seems to have a great attitude about everything (even not being able to play shows during a pandemic or being in a writing slump). I think once this is all over this guy will go on 5-year tour and gain lots and lots of new fans. In the meantime do check out his stuff, you won’t be disappointed.

Where did you grow up?

Berkeley, CA. The area I grew up in was filled with Victorian homes and dilapidated industrial warehouses. My family home was walking distance from a lagoon and an old, rusty set of train tracks. I felt I lived in an unremarkable college town. There wasn't much activity outside of the school. I discovered Berkeley’s storied political and musical history much later in life. Now, of course, there are many books written about Berkeley, but I thought it was a kinda nondescript city as a kid.

Do you remember what band made you fall in love with music?

Dating myself hard here, but I remember being floored by The White Stripes’ “Fell in Love With a Girl” video when I was 11. The Top 40 music making the rounds on VH1 and MTV at the time was beyond dreck — a lot of Train, Staind, Matchbox 20. The White Stripes were the first band I was exposed to that made succinct, catchy, no-frills music. I was genuinely enthralled. Plus, the Lego animation in that video still holds up.

Was guitar your first instrument?

I started on bass. My first instrument was an extremely cheap, pointy BC Rich knockoff monstrosity. I believe I was 13. I had no idea how to play and little interest in learning. For the first year, I putzed around with a Pro Co RAT, a wah pedal, and a tinny-sounding Crate practice amp. I just tried (and succeeded in) being as obnoxious as possible. When I started writing songs, I eventually graduated from playing bass poorly to playing guitar poorly.

Tell us about your first band.

My first band that played shows was called The Phil Spector Shotgun Experience. That was primarily a cover band I put together with my high school buddies and my mom. We covered Radio Birdman, the Pink Fairies, and the MC5; we also had an unwittingly hilarious original called “Nitroglycerin Man” — the first song I ever wrote (maybe I was subconsciously inspired by Wages of Fear). At some point, we kicked my mom out of the band and started playing as the Impediments. That band kicked ass — we made pridefully dumb American punk music. That was also my only band to sign a record contract, so it’s quite possibly been downhill from there!

Tell us about The Talkies (unless that was your first band mentioned above).

Talkies (no article!) was a group I started in 2014 as a vehicle for my songs. My previous bands had been more of a shared vision, so Talkies was my first foray into being the lone genius of a group. The sound was mostly drawn from what is disparagingly known as power pop. Basically, I was heavily into the band Shoes for a few years.

We released a few albums and EPs. Did a couple short tours. During that time, the project was dragged from the Bay Area to Austin and back before I finally, mercifully pulled the plug last year. It was time.

When did you transition from Talkies to the solo stuff you’re doing now? Did it feel comfortable?

Talkies had run its course, but I had a smattering of songs leftover from that project that I wanted to record. Around that time, I learned my good friend Jasper Leach (Burner Herzog) was getting ready to skip town. I had always wanted to work with him and, seizing my final opportunity to do so, we banged out my début, Tiny Shapes, last summer. The whole experience was fairly serendipitous. The stars aligned for that one.

I wouldn't say the process was comfortable. Recording the album felt necessary, urgent — almost compulsory at times. My heart was ready for a new project and I truly wanted to center myself for the first time. I’m glad I did. This is the happiest I’ve been musically in some time.

“I think therefore I am”

I love the songs on A Room Forever. How did they come together?

So glad to hear that! I got asked to contribute to a compilation back in April. With the deadline approaching and inspiration still eluding me, I took a glance at my bookshelf, noticed a particular Carson McCullers title, and whipped up “Clock Without Hands.” After my trusty collaborator Owen Adair Kelley added his parts, I felt we had stumbled upon a great sound. I tried to harness the creative spirit and pushed myself to finish a few ideas buried deep in the recesses of my Voice Memo app. I got friends Matt Bullimore (The Mantles) and Yea-Ming Chen (Yea-Ming & The Rumors) involved, and that was that. No great origin story — just pure American ingenuity and elbow grease.

Tell us about Paisley Shirt Records. Who runs it and how did you hook up with them?

Paisley Shirt Records is simply the man, the myth, the legend — Kevin Linn. He is a San Francisco-based musician and artist who records as Sad-Eyed Beatniks.

I met him when I was looking for someone to release my album, Tiny Shapes. He had just put out a tape by Hits — a great local band featuring some friends of mine — and I felt a kinship with his roster. So, I reached out to him. Foolishly, he agreed to put out my album and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Solid dude. High marks.

Have you done any solo tours? If so where and how did they go?

Ha! No. I had only notched two shows as R.E. Seraphin before the pandemic hit. Likely not doing anything beyond the odd live-stream show for a while. That said, if any tastemaking European touring agencies are reading this — give me a ring!

The latest EP

What are your top 10 desert island discs?

Ah, jeez. This question. I’ll just say these are 10 (plus one) that I come back to quite often. In no order:

Marquee Moon by Television

The Everly Brothers’ Best

Forever Changes by Love

Let it Be by The Replacements

Third/Sister Lovers by Big Star

The First Songs by Laura Nyro

16 Lovers Lane by The Go-Betweens

In a Silent Way by Miles Davis

A Different Kind of Tension by Buzzcocks

Something Else by The Kinks

Old No. 1 by Guy Clark

What are a few Bay Area bands that we should know about.

This is a golden-era for weirdo pop music in the Bay. To name just a few: Galore, Cindy, The Umbrellas, Tony Jay, Flowertown, Healing Potpourri, Latitude, Cocktails, The Reds, Pinks, & Purples, Yea-Ming & The Rumors, Anna Hillburg, the 1981, Toner, Frank Ene, Neutrals, Owen Adair Kelley, April Magazine, Telephone Numbers, Hits, Sad-Eyed Beatniks. Essentially every act associated with Paisley Shirt Records and/or Mt.St.Mtn. My bias is strong.

Do you feel that the pandemic has helped your songwriting or hindered it (if either)?

A li’l column A, a li’l column B. I’m a natural procrastinator, so I’ve definitely savored the lack of band practice and shows (things that often necessitate new material). That said, I doubt I would have finished A Room Forever had I not been quarantined at home. Without having many obligations and without being able to leave my house, music definitely became my raison d’être for the first time as an adult. I was fortunate to not be deemed an “essential” worker and to be able to focus energy on my passion momentarily. Silver lining.

What’s next ? A new record by the end of the year possibly?

Hopefully continuing to promote my music and play shows on the ol’ webiverse. A Room Forever will be receiving a small vinyl and tape pressing at the end of September via Mt.St.Mtn. and Paisley Shirt Records. So, looking forward to that.

I was creatively tapped for a few months after A Room Forever. While a new album is possible, it’s not probable. I am plugging away at a few tunes, but I tend to conceptualize albums as a thematic whole and not as a collection of songs. Haven't stumbled onto my next Big Idea yet. Don't count me out, though. I could see myself dashing off a covers album for sure.

What is one song you wish you’d written?

Too many to name! I’ll reframe that question to mean a great song I could see myself capable of writing in an alternate time, place, or dimension. Maybe one of Peter Holsapple’s songs from The dB’s — “Black & White” or “Neverland.” Also: anything by Wreckless Eric or Martin Newell.

Final thoughts? Closing comments?

Just finished reading an interview with the great James Purdy, and thought this quote summed up iur current political climate well:

“You go out into the world and no one knows you, you can be ruled because you’re programmed. Everything is stamped, put on the shelf, described, thrown out into the garbage. It’s a political process, and behind that an economic process. But to be nothing, that is the worst of all possible things.”

www.reseraphin.com

www.paisleyshirtrecords.bandcamp.com

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