#the shared brain in retrograde | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

juniperskye · 29 days

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Who Are You Again?

Based on the following ask: I had another plot thought! Aaron x BAU Reader (female or gender neutral) where Reader disobeys an order to save a victim and gets hurt really bad. Reader wakes up in the hospital to Aaron who is angry at first but then is shocked when it turns out that Reader has retrograde amnesia from the injury. Reader has forgotten their entire career in the BAU and even that They and Aaron were secretly dating! Last thing Reader actually remembers was attending a lecture in college where Aaron was a guest speaker and Reader developed a crush on him! Now Aaron has to carefully navigate helping Reader recover without outing their relationship to anyone else. Or maybe he wonders if it's better they forget? But for a HEA ending definitely Aaron doing something romantic sparks a memory and helps everything come flooding back. @nyxwolph thank you for requesting again and trusting me with your ideas! – I did have to change things up a bit (I struggled big time with this one)

Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 5336

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap, some language, BAU canon typical violence, mention of parent death, mention of kidnapping, mention of Haley and Jack, secret relationship, let me know if I missed any!!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions in which a small change in one state of a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state.” Essentially, something as small as a butterfly flapping its wings could cause something as catastrophic as a tornado.

Aaron wondered what small event happened that led to this moment right now. A moment that would change the trajectory of your lives forever.

*36 hours earlier*

“Garcia has the unsubs location; he’s headed down a backroad just east of the 95.” Aaron said.

“He’s devolving, he’s probably going to try and dispose of his latest victim.” Morgan chimed in.

“Not if we have anything to do with it.” JJ replied.

“His location is being shared with you all, everyone be safe, at this point he’s going to be willing to do anything to avoid prison.” Hotch added.

“I’m close by, I am going to go try and cut him off.” You suggested.

The team expressed their worry and care and urged you to be careful. The only thing you had on your mind, however, was saving the five-year-old boy this unsub had hidden. You drove as fast as your vehicle would allow, you had to get to the unsub. You had to save that boy.

As you got closer to the location Garcia had shared, you could see the dust trail the unsubs car was leaving down the road. You thought about your options, and you made a snap decision. Drive on, no matter the consequences – take out the unsub’s car. So that’s what you did.

You drove forward and your car t-boned the unsubs, only you hadn’t considered that he’d be driving a semi tractor. Upon impact, your SUV was crushed, in your rush to get to the unsub you’d forgotten to put on your seatbelt and your body was ejected through the windshield.

The accident was enough to stop the unsub long enough for the team to arrive. As they surveyed the scene, Aaron’s stomach dropped. He immediately began barking orders, demanding medics, and sending agents to the unsubs’ farm to find the boy. Throughout everything he refused to leave your side.

*Present Day*

“Sir, we had to place her in a medically induced coma to allow the swelling in her brain to go down.” The doctor explained.

“Is there an estimate as to how long it’ll be until she wakes up?” Aaron asked.

“With these kinds of injuries, it’s hard to say. The brain is a tricky thing, and no two injuries are alike. We just have to wait and see.”

“Thank you.” Aaron said, shaking the doctor’s hand.

Your doctor made her exit and Aaron moved to the seat beside your bed. He gently took your hand in his own placing a kiss to the back of it before returning it to your side. Aaron had thought back to the night everything changed.

*One year earlier*

“Hey Hotch, here’s that report you asked for. You aren’t staying are you?” You asked, glancing at your watch.

“Thanks, and yeah I had a few things I needed to finish up.”

You made your way over to Aaron’s couch, dropped your bag to the floor, and shrugged your jacket off. You pulled your phone out to see what was still open for delivery in the area. Aaron and you had shared many nights like this, spending late nights together in his office. The two of you had grown very close over the years, so much so that David had outright asked Aaron if you two were dating. To which Aaron let out an awkward chuckle and denied the accusation. If only he knew.

“What are you doing? You should head home.” Aaron said.

“Well, you should too, and you aren’t, so I guess that means we’re ordering dinner.” You smiled at him.

“I love you.” Aaron said simply.

“What?” You were stunned.

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn’t – I um….”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Aaron made his way over to you, gently caressed your face and kissed you. It was everything you had ever imagined. There had been this tension between the two of you over the last two years and it was all finally coming together.

After that night, Aaron and you had agreed to keep your relationship under wraps, to avoid any potential disruption to the team, but also any question as to your position on the team. Aaron didn’t want anyone to question the fact that it was your skills and resume alone that got you to where you are.

Yours and Aaron’s relationship blossomed after that night, but not without hardships. Aaron and you faced a lot of adversity in multiple aspects of your relationship; you had a hard time trusting people, Aaron had been self-conscious of your age gap, and you both couldn’t help but feel that you weren’t good enough for the other (not that either of you would bring it up).

*Present Day*

A tear fell from Aaron’s eye, he couldn’t fathom losing you. This was all part of the reason he didn’t want to get serious with someone after Haley, but then you came into his life. You’d come in and made yourself known with your kind eyes and witty charm; how could he not fall in love with you.

Aaron fell for you slowly then all at once, it came naturally, and he couldn’t help it. He knew that the team had their suspicions and honestly over the last year there had been some close calls, but you had ultimately maintained the secrecy of your relationship.

In this moment, Aaron couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt and regret over the fact that he’d asked you to keep things quiet. Had he let the team in on your relationship, he could’ve done a better job at keeping you safe.

*2 Weeks Later*

Aaron had been by your side as much as possible over the last two weeks, which is exactly where he was when you started to stir. Aaron shot straight up in his seat, his hand quickly reaching for your own.

You couldn’t help the groan that escaped your throat, your body hurt so bad, and you felt very confused. You attempted to open your eyes but immediately regretted it – the bright fluorescents adding to the pounding in your head. As you blinked through the brightness of the room, you glanced over to your bedside, noticing a tall man seated there.

“What on earth were you thinking? Driving into the unsub like that, you could’ve been killed. Your actions were reckless and unacceptable.” The man scolded you.

You couldn’t find it in you to reply, your head was pounding. You brought your hand up to your forehead and gently press the heel of your palm into it, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure.

“Sweetheart hold on, I’ll go get your doctor.” A deep voice sounded from your bedside.

Before you could question the pet name, you heard the sound of his dress shoes clicking against the linoleum floors.

The man returned with your doctor; he dimmed the lights slightly on his way back to your bedside. He moved to grab your hand again, to which you shifted, wringing your hands nervously in your lap.

“Hello, I’m doctor Raynor. How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a truck, what happened?” You questioned, giving your doctor and the man a once over.

You recognized the man; it was Special Agent Hotchner of the BAU. What was he doing here? What happened?

“Well, you were involved in an accident, can you tell me what you remember?” Dr. Raynor inquired.

“I um, well, I was leaving a lecture.” Your gaze shifted to Agent Hotchner “Your lecture actually, you were talking about MO’s. I guess the accident was after that?” You couldn’t help but notice Agent Hotchner’s expression faulter.

Your doctor looked over at Agent Hotchner and he shook his head. The two of them seemingly knew something you didn’t. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d just given the wrong answer in front of the class. Dr. Raynor had gone through the rest of your injuries with you, multiple lacerations that had required stitches, a few broken ribs, a broken wrist, and of course your TBI. Once she was done she gave you a somber look.

“Would you excuse us for just a moment? I am going to send in one of your nurses to check you over and I’ll be back in just a moment.” Dr. Raynor said.

“Oh, okay.”

Dr. Raynor and Agent Hotchner left your room, and you tried your best to listen to their conversation.

*Hotch’s POV*

She doesn’t remember me, well us. It’s like the last five years have just disappeared.

“Agent Hotchner, I gather that the lecture she’s referring to did not occur two weeks ago when she was brought in.”

“No, that lecture was nearly five years ago.” I explained.

“This would be a case of retrograde amnesia, if she’s lost recent memories.” Dr. Raynor replied.

“Will her memory return?”

“It’s hard to say.”

While Aaron was completely devastated, he couldn’t help the doubt that creeped into his mind, telling him “This is for the best”.

*Normal POV*

Dr. Raynor and Agent Hotchner looked extremely serious, and you started to feel nauseous. Something was obviously wrong. You watched as their conversation ceased and they made their way back into the room.

Something must have happened, why would Agent Hotchner be here.

“Alright, it would appear that due to the brain trauma you sustained in your accident, you are experiencing what we describe as retrograde amnesia. This is when you can’t recall memories from your past. Based on your most recent memory, it appears as if you’ve lost approximately five years.” Dr. Raynor explained.

“Five years? Five years of memories are just gone. I don’t understand. If that’s true then why are you here?” You asked gesturing to Agent Hotchner.

“Well, you work for the BAU. You have for about three years now.”

“I do? I – I, this is a lot. What does this mean? Have you called my emergency contact?” You asked.

“I uh – I am your emergency contact.” Agent Hotchner spoke up.

“What, why? It has always been my mom, I don’t understand.”

“I’m so sorry, your mom, she uh – she passed last year. That’s when you switched it over to me.” Agent Hotchner’s gaze shifted down to his shoes.

“She’s gone?” Your voice cracked.

“Okay, this has been quite a bit of information. The most important thing right now is getting healthy. We want to keep you here a little longer to continue monitoring the swelling in your brain. Once we’ve confirmed it has gone down, you’ll want to get back in your usual routine, that is the best shot at getting your memory back.” Dr. Raynor gently patted your leg.

“How am I meant to get back to my normal routine when I don’t know it? The one person I had, I just found out is dead.”

“Given that Agent Hotchner is your emergency contact, we would be able to release you into his care. For now, we just need to stay positive.” With that, Dr. Raynor made her exit.

“I know this is a lot, but the BAU, we’re like a family, that includes you. Each member of the team is going to be willing to do anything to help you throughout this process.” Agent Hotchner said.

Part of you knew you could trust him; he had kind eyes, and you knew he was genuine. However, the other part of you felt so hopeless, like a lost kid in a department store. How were you meant to go home with this man who you didn’t know.

*Five Days Later*

“Do you have everything?” Aaron asked.

He had been with you every day for the last five days. He had brought you some things from your apartment and asked you to call him Aaron for now while you were “getting to know him”. You had to admit, it had been pretty nice talking with him the last few days.

“I think so!” You looked over at him. “I know that I am meant to be staying with you, at least until I’m fully healed, but could we go to my apartment first? I’d like to see it and maybe go through some of my things?”

“Of course we can.” Aaron nodded, gesturing towards the door.

The drive to your place was filled with small talk, mostly you asking Aaron questions about the BAU and the time you’ve spent there. It felt weird asking the man who is technically your boss about your personal life.

When you arrived, Aaron made sure to open your door for you and carry your bag into your home. He led you inside and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable he seemed in your place, like he’d been there before. Like he belonged there. You shook the thought from your mind.

“I got you a new phone, it’s all set up for you.” Aaron said handing you the device.

“Thanks! Were they able to back up the old one? I was hoping to go through old texts and pictures to gather some insight into my life. God that sounds weird.” You huffed out a breath.

“I have our technical analyst Penelope Garcia working on that for you.” Aaron informed you.

“That’s great, thank you.”

The truth was, Aaron didn’t have Garcia backing up your old phone, at least not yet. He knew that if he had brought it to her she would uncover all the private texts and photos that you two had shared over the last year. He didn’t want to risk everyone finding out about your relationship, especially now when he wasn’t sure what your future would hold.

Aaron watched you as you made your way around your apartment. You wandered slowly around letting your fingers graze the spines of books on your shelves, picture frames on the walls and tchotchkes that were strewn about your desk and shelves.

He so badly wanted to pull you into his arms, kiss your head and tell you that everything was going to be okay. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t just your boss. But he also thought about all the things that could go wrong if he told you. You could question your own ethics and fall into self-loathing with the thought that you’d potentially slept your way to the top – this was the furthest thing from the truth, but he knew you and the way your mind spiraled. He wondered if it would just be easier if he let you find yourself all on your own, to let this thing between you go and hope that maybe you’d find your way back to him again.

When he looked over to you once again, he saw that you had found a photo album. It was one he was very familiar with; Garcia had gotten it for you on your 1-year BAU anniversary and filled it halfway. Since then, you’d continue to add to it all the photos you’d taken with the team.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until a tear had fallen onto the picture you were currently examining. Your emotions were running high, looking through the album was so strange it felt like looking at a stranger and yet it was you in photo after photo looking happier than ever with these people you couldn’t remember.

You felt the couch dip beside you and Aaron gently rubbed his hand up and down your back.

“I can’t imagine how overwhelming this all must be. I know that I can’t understand but I am here for you and I’m happy to lend an ear if you want to talk about it.” Aaron quietly soothed you.

“Thank you so much Aaron. I just don’t know how to wrap my head around this being me but not remembering it. Clearly you all mean so much to me and yet I have no recollection of any of this.” You sobbed.

Aaron and you sat like that on your couch for a while. He gave you the time you needed to calm down, while holding you, whispering sweet nothings to you. You felt oddly comfortable there in his arms, your mind shifted to the thought that enjoying the way his arms felt around you was also incredibly inappropriate given that he was your boss. At that thought you shifted slightly. You thought back to why you had signed up to audit Aaron’s lecture and while the main reason was the knowledge he’d lend you, a part of you allowed his looks to give you that final push in signing up.

“I should probably grab a few things so we can head out.” You whispered.

“Do you need any help?” Aaron asked.

“I should be okay, but I’ll let you know!”

Aaron drove the two of you back to his apartment, for the time being he had asked Jessica to keep Jack, this way you could adjust, and Jack also wouldn’t out your relationship. Aaron had his guest bedroom set up for you, he’d set it up with some of your favorite things. A lavender scented candle, extra pillows, a fluffy blanket, and he made sure to set a small trinket dish on the dresser, so you’d have a place to put your jewelry.

These of course were all things Aaron had previously had at his place for you. When you two had gotten increasingly more serious, he encouraged you to leave some stuff at his place and he’d gone as far as to supply some of your favorites around his home for you.

Aaron led you into his home and you couldn’t help but glance around, really taking in your surroundings. You couldn’t help but take note of a few things as he showed you around; there was a photo missing from the side table next to the couch (you could see the tiny bit of dust that must’ve collected around it), the pantry was stocked with quite a few of your favorite snacks, there was a pink coffee mug in the cabinet, and lastly, tucked under the shoe rack near the front door were a pair of fluffy gray slippers.

You couldn’t explain why, but there was a slight pang of jealousy in you as you thought of Aaron having a girlfriend. You knew you had no right to feel that way and it would be incredibly inappropriate, but it was a gut reaction.

*One Week Later*

Aaron and you had fallen into a weird sort of routine, it started to feel a lot like the 50’s, you making dinner and cleaning while he worked. You were starting to get a bit stir crazy, which is exactly why you were so excited today. Garcia would be coming by to see you; she was bringing over a bunch of photos and videos of you with the team throughout the last three years.

It was a paperwork catch-up day for the BAU, so Aaron had given Penelope the go ahead to take a long lunch and spend some time with you. So, when a knock on the door rang through the apartment, you couldn’t help the burst of excitement that coursed its way through your veins.

“Hi Penelope!”

“Hey babe! How are you feeling?” She asked, giving you a look of concern.

“I’m feeling pretty good, you know, except for the missing five years of memories thing.” You let out a low chuckle.

“Oh goodness! Well, I’ve brought a ton of stuff that might help bring some stuff back. I read that sense of smell is the sense that links with memories the strongest so have a bunch of things for you to smell while you look at photos in hopes something will come back to you.”

“That sounds like a great idea!” You smiled at Penelope.

The next hour or so went by with Penelope showing you photos and videos along with passing you various items to smell in hopes of bringing back some of your memories. And while it wasn’t like a wave crashing over you, bringing all your memories back, it did bring some things back. You could remember the members of the BAU and some of their quirks, you remembered the feeling of being in the bullpen (thanks to the smell of some very burnt coffee). What you were struggling to regain was your emotional memories, you couldn’t quite pinpoint the relationships you had with anyone from the team.

“I am glad that this helped! I should probably get out of your hair though; I can tell you have headache.” Penelope

“Thank you Penelope, I really appreciate all of this!”

You led her to the door, and she reminded you to get some rest and to take it easy. She also suggested that you come by the BAU for lunch in the next week or so to see everyone. The team had been doing a good job of not overwhelming you and allowing you time to get back in the swing of things.

“Oh, Penelope before you go, did you get a chance to back up my old phone? Aaron said you were working on it.”

“Oh, hon. He must’ve forgotten to mention it, but I will get started on that right away! I’ll text you as soon as I’m done, okay? We will just be able to pull the backup and put it on your new phone!” She said pulling you into a tight hug, before making her exit.

Why would Aaron have lied to you about your old phone? Maybe Penelope was right, and it just slipped his mind, he had been dealing with a lot, taking care of you, and having you stay with him.

You hadn’t meant to snoop, honestly, but after having talked with Penelope, the feeling Aaron was hiding something from you was extremely prevalent. You decided to look around a bit, you know, while putting the laundry away. You needed to put the towels away in Aaron’s bathroom, you just happened to notice the second toothbrush in the holder, the dress hanging inside his closet (come on, the door was already open), the ring box tucked in his sock drawer, what shocked you the most were the photos in the hall closet. It was a photo of him and a tall brunette that had you spiraling, where was this woman? You had clearly been invading his space long enough and you couldn’t bear the thought of coming between him and this woman who was to be his fiancé.

You needed to get back to your life, and out of Aaron’s hair. You decided that you’d tell him that night over dinner, you were going to move back home.

“Hey, I’m home!” Aaron called.

“Hey, how was your day?” You asked.

Aaron explained that his day was good, and he asked you about your get together with Penelope as you finished up dinner. Aaron set the table as you followed behind him plating up the food.

“I’m glad to hear things went well with Penelope. I think lunch with the team is a great idea.”

“Aaron I’m gonna move back home.” The words flew out of your mouth faster than your brain could catch up. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to impose on your life any more than I already have.”

“It’s truly not an imposition, but if that’s what you want.” Aaron looked deflated.

“I just think it’s important we both get back to our usual every day.”

“If you think that’s best.”

You two ate in silence. Afterwards you both went to the kitchen, cleaned up the dishes and made your way to your separate rooms. You began packing up your belongings and Aaron scrolled through photos of the two of you from before the accident.

*Two Days Later*

“Good morning gorgeous!!! I am calling to inform you that the backup from your old phone is ready, and I also think it is the perfect day for you to come in and have lunch with everyone!” Penelope sang over the phone.

“Okay, what time should I come down there?”

“Ummm maybe around 12:30? Everyone is usually ready to eat by then. I can call and order in something too!”

“Oh, and uh Pen, I don’t know the address, and I’m not cleared to drive.” You said shyly.

“Oh shoot, okay! I’ll see who is available to come and pick you up, no worries.” Penelope reassured you.

You took some time getting ready, most of the team hadn’t seen you since before the injuries, and while the cuts and bruises have faded and scarred, you still had a very broken wrist and frequent headaches, along with PTSD and anxiety attacks thanks to the TBI. You felt like you had been doing well, and based on your recent check-up with your neurologist, things are trending up in regard to your health. Though you began to worry that the worst had yet to come.

A knock on your door shook you out of your thoughts, as you made your way to answer it, you wondered who Penelope sent to get you. Pulling the door open revealed someone you were hoping you wouldn’t see so soon.

“Hi Aaron.”

“Hello, were going to go pick up the food on the way back to the BAU, if that’s okay.” Aaron explained.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded.

The drive was filled with tense silence. You couldn’t help but wonder why Aaron would harbor any negative feelings towards you. You’d only moved out of his apartment so he could get back on to his life, if anything he should be grateful that you’ve gone home. One of the main reasons you’d really decided to go home was because of the fact that you were growing far too comfortable.

Things at Aaron’s house were starting to feel right, like it was where you belong. You had no idea how you had been able to work with him over the last few years, the crush you had on him all those years ago had only proven to grow stronger.

“I’ll run in and grab the food.” Aaron said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Before you could reply, he stepped out of the car and made his way into the restaurant.

Aaron got you signed in with a visitor’s badge (as you weren’t cleared to work) and then he led you up to the sixth floor, BAU bullpen. Upon walking in, you felt an odd sense of familiarity. You knew that it would make sense for the BAU to bring memories back and that you would have muscle memory to help lead you through the building, but it felt very strange.

You looked over at Aaron, “I need to go see Garcia, do you mind pointing me in the right direction?”

“Of course, her office is that way. Second door on the right.”

“Thanks.” You smiled.

You wandered through the corridor, catching a glimpse of Garcia through her open door. You lightly knocked on her door and walked into her office.

“Oh! Hello gorgeous!” Garcia squealed, standing, and pulling you into a hug.

“Hey Pen!”

“Let’s get your phone squared away and then we will go eat.”

You handed your phone over to Penelope and she began downloading the last backup from your old phone.

“This should only take a few minutes.”

Penelope and you made idle chit chat for a few moments while waiting on your phone. When it finished uploading, she unplugged it and handed it to you. The two of you then made your way to the bullpen.

Lunch with the BAU was overwhelming to say the least. It was fun talking to everyone, but you could tell everyone was walking on eggshells and you could see the pity flash behind their eyes as you sat and explained your lack of memories with the people sitting before you.

After lunch, Aaron let everyone leave early. It had been a paperwork day and the team had been very productive. He told them all to go home, but of course to leave their phones on, just in case they had to leave. Emily offered to drive you home, given the close proximity of your apartments.

When you got home, you changed into some comfortable clothes and sat on the couch. You took a deep breath and unlocked your phone. There were two things you noticed while going through everything, the first being a significant number of photos saved and the second being the texts exchanged between you and your boss.

You decided to go through the photos first. There were plenty of you with the various members of the BAU, but what caught your attention was one image in particular, in it, you were laid in bed with your head resting on a man’s chest…the man being none other than Aaron.

You quickly switched over to your messages app. Clicking Aaron’s name, you saw the most recent text…

“Be careful sweetheart. I love you.”

Your mind was racing, what were you meant to think, why would he keep this from you? Was the ring meant for you? You needed to see him.

You ordered an Uber and made your way to the FBI building. You signed in, getting a visitors’ badge and headed up to the sixth floor.

“Aaron” You called out into the bullpen.

“Is everything okay? What are you doing here?” Aaron asked as he walked out of his office.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Aaron questioned.

“That we were together.”

You gestured to your phone. Aaron dropped his gaze for a moment, before looking back to you. You could see the pain behind his eyes.

“Sweetheart, we had been keeping it a secret, and I don’t know, I guess I thought that maybe you’d be better off. I figured you might find someone more appropriate for you.”

“That wasn’t a choice for you to make. Aaron things have been confusing enough, losing my memory. But to have you lying to me, it’s total bullshit. How am I supposed to get my memories back if you are keeping such a big part of me a secret.” You couldn’t help the frustrated tears from slipping down your cheek.

Aaron reached for you and let his thumb brush the tear off your cheek. He stepped closer to you and brought his other hand to your cheek.

“I am so sorry. I should’ve told you from the get-go, I was scared. I thought that maybe I would tell you and you’d have to get to know me again and maybe you wouldn’t love me the way you did before. I also couldn’t help but think that I don’t deserve you and this was your perfect out. But that was selfish, I should’ve told you the truth.”

You leaned your head onto Aaron’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline and then he pulled back.

“Can I show you something?” Aaron asked.

You nodded and followed him to his office. Aaron led you around his desk and gestured for you to sit in his chair. He pointed to his computer screen, and you took note of the screen saver. It was a slideshow of pictures taken throughout your relationship, there were pictures of you at the FBI Gala, Jack’s soccer game, art museums, at Aaron’s home, at your apartment, etc..

It happened slowly, then all at once. A warm feeling flooded your veins, and a dull ache filled your head. Tears were steadily streaming down your face. You looked up at Aaron, and he met your gaze. A moment was shared before understanding washed over Aaron.

“I remember.”

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astralnymphh · 2 months

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copy that, romeo

— ellie williams was supposed to be your supervisor, not your object of infatuation ~ ♡

⋆❝ this is cordero tower, calling in.❞⋆

CHAPTER ONE: SUMMERTIME INTERLUDE . NEXT CHAPTER > ♡. pair; firewatcher!ellie x recruit!reader

♡. summary; it's 1995, and the angel crater national park welcomes you; a retrograde lookout all to yourself, a space nerd for a supervisor, and a whole summertime job spent in hues of sepia and juniper, waiting for the first sign of smoke. ninety–three days. you don't know her face, you share no breath— but by walkie–talkie, you know her voice.

♡. a/n; READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. CLICK HERE. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. ALSO THIS.

♡. content; EVENTUAL SMUT, narrator present, silly fourth wall breaking, a dash of comedy, slowburn (somewhat), living alone, long–distance pining, reader/characters are similar ages(mid–late 20s), depression, heavy metaphor usage, complicated poetry styles, mentions of organs, mentions of weaponry, metaphorical death, grim humor, drinking alcohol, drunk!ellie, drunken flirting (vaguely and bluntly), ellie jumpscare, uh-oh sassy masc apocalypse, she's corny and cheesy too (a dork), awkwardness, humiliation, lighthearted bickering, nicknames used. [lmk if i missed anything] . SERIES PLAYLIST .

WC; 6.1k+ ✮ thank you @trackinglessons for your sexy brain and beautiful ideas + custom art ✮ masterlist ✮ series masterlist ✮ ellie ref sheet

Summertime is the interlude between misery and Mondays.

May was a rough patch for you. A coagulated chapter within the spring world, a shunned ponder, red jello in the gradience of passage. Tempus, time. Early months hence were just as pessimizing, doubt is an arid reservoir in you. But, as a maypole sits a svelte giant in the sweet Beltane soil, braving an invisible smile whilst little ones— little laughters, spun prances and wraps of dainty satin to an ensnare on its long body, it weeped for its delicate capture. You; flesh coarse like timber, relate to the log standing, ensnared. Sunk in that gelatinous texture, unmoving as pressures collided with the surface outward, ripples everywhere yet incapable of sprinkling through you. Something would have to delve itself to drag you out.

Chapters; cusp of autumn to April, every single month, wound ‘round you. They each had separating colors, and spared turns to soundly fold your limbs and bulge your skin in ribbons. It snipped your circulation, shriveled the ripe breath in your skull and traded it for a pressure. A throb. Weight upon the cranium, you felt the narrowing cradle inside wilt from thought, drain from consciousness, and soften your stiff eyes locked on drywall. Hour to hour.

But those weren't the only things taunting you with a dance— expectations danced faster. Expectators, paired minds heaping expectations; yourself and the selves blackjacking their wants expressed as worries onto you. Stressful creatures, they are. Bosses, co–workers, energy vampires disguised as lover boys prowling about your workspace, general creatures of the retail world. God, they're like ravenous wolves snarling hunger through their teeth, slobber moonlight–bright of that dire carnality for variety meats. Depression just took the first serving before they could.

Even the domesticated places are a wilderness untamed.

Stress drained you of life. It softened your desire to even try. Gods are dulling, blamed you, on another dull morning where the trickling sound of coffee pouring drilled irk into your ears, rather than simply a trickle. Caffeine, a roast so void–black was brewed to un–drain you. Yet, it fuckin didn't.

Impugning was your everything, until it could no longer purify; Elaine. Emptiness. Hmm, you gave this state of vacuum–headed hollowness a name, keenly because it deserved so by its dismantling of your autonomy. You don't want it. It's not you. It's Elaine. A some–angel fallen out of grace, weary of its wander upon a washed up cove, beige toned and swept shivering–cold. Interested by the warmth your sundry organs pushed into its light silhouette.

And perhaps, if the bird was never freed from its heavenly cage, it would be powerless to pester you, to poke the meat inside with the pointy end of plumage.

Elaine was an organized assault on your wellbeing, moreso against the pulpy, pinkish-gray blob sitting ugly above your throat. Believe it, or assume it. A paralysis, moving shoulders from bed sheets proved farcical, running bristles over your teeth twice a day rhymes with nonsense, and midnight ink born to swirl and curtsy to convey thoughts gone rancid, goes unused atop the white flutter between your journal hardcovers. You have a morbid case of the seasonal blues, except this time, the season is beyond its blue hues. Spring, a fuckin’ kaleidoscope embellished. Blotches of big fuck you greens so vibrant you'd long to die from your tears, and an abstract spit of smell me reds thorny as your stomach brought to a scream for something. Anything.

It was a slow, banal descent into the jello.

January, floating atop the sweet delicacy, atop your bed.

February, the solidity gave out beneath you, goo subtly etching around your ankles, calves, elbows, unforgivingly cold when it first hit. When in reality, the bed was heating from your lay.

March, marrow goes heavy, your limbs at this time could not lift, your efforts waned, and satiating the rumble in you with sustenance was forgotten, as that rumble got so, so.. quiet.

April, the jello had stuffed your nose, your sockets, and lullabied your ligaments. You let it happen.

May.

You let yourself sink. Let yourself decompose and go mush in the head. Like a zombie.

The descent doesn't taste of sweet delight, but it also fails to churn your lips with a heavy saccharinity. Neutral, your hopeful side did say. Nothing, rationality slapped past your lips.

Five months, either a misery, or a Monday.

Yes Eve, a bite out of the Apocrypha will indeed fill this human abysm in me. Forbidden knowledge is my craving. Contraband of truth, bite to bite, I envy that I could not cope with its coating of my empty gut earlier.

Innocence is so dull. You are depressed, not a fucking saint for staying indoors, starving your rage.

But on came a crisp bouquet of biker–boy newspapers; ‘Hiring’, and a few scans further; ‘Do you harness a great love for the evergreen?’

A honed section in Missoula's local print— jobs. A publisher boldens and compresses enthusiasm sporadically; writing–on–the–wall hollers speckle themselves meticulously on the newsprint that strike a sense of obligation into the susceptible and soft–of–heart chunk of the population. A pert voice read with persuasion between your ears, gritty in tone and stereotypical of a middle aged ranger, vocals fried by cigarettes but as booming as a cannon.

“Do you care for the animals inhabiting our national sanctuaries?”

Abutting small paragraphs, the sagging belly of a black bear, tender caramel snout and snoopy–faced, fitted on its head a mustard yellow campaign hat labeled, ‘Smokey’. Its burly, blundering frame on all fours stood out over a comic–style vista of the Montana rockies, paws obscured by blocks of thickset text reading ‘Only you’.

Huh, a realistic depiction of Smokey Bear— over a not–so–realistic background, avant–garde.

Tree greens sprawly that didn't shout ‘Fuck you’ on your poor, sunken eyes searing for sleep and a twilight darkness. Sagey lichens that didn't draw out the spasms above your own bones, calling your regard to bring pin–sized problems and blemishes sprawling your own flesh out of the bliss of ignorance. Brunette muds with only a fleck of sun, a slice of earth dull, humble and unprocessed enough from benevolence to leave you unconsumed, unsunken. A mere slop and pudge in the future and wake of your walk. Nothing obnoxiously grand, nothing sanctimonious. Nature is by birth— righteous, regardless.

“Before we can be proud of our nation, our nation must be proud of us!”

The advertisement gropes for a summertime made free. A cyclopean sinkhole in the becoming of time. Recruits–in–waiting are called to bargain normalcy and the bustling cities plump with lumbering limbs of sheen–tight pantyhose shaded under short shapes of plaid skirts for boot–cuts n’ backpacks hefty with gear that could either save you the trouble of mountaineering by path, or trouble your time with a faulty snapping of two things. Rope and neck.

Too grim?

A months’–long moment of tension snapped at the pressure joint— Summertime the snapper. You'd be devoting ninety–three suns, ninety–two moons, and some two–million breaths of fir laden air up in Angel Crater National Park, northwest of here. Pupils flickering the double-page setup, you continue: A pictographic, old–fashioned lookout taller than the timber spires surrounding would be your station, your core of operations, for those three young and sunny months. Boxed provisions and supplies are guaranteed to ship every other week, and testimonies encourage even the anxious, balmy buzzes of your brain to sigh in solace learning that the weald creatures there— are mostly harmless, if you aren't bred an imbecile. Alongside, an appointed supervisor, whose name was never disclosed duly except for a scratch of text gingerly clasped in quotations reading, “E.R.W” trailing the mention of said supervisor. What’s required of you was delivered plain written and patent on that shoddy newspaper, held thick in your intrigued thumbs; Keep the forest from catching wild fire.

You fiddled the idea. Should I? Or should I wallow the summer away? Fiddled it anxiously, fiddled it needily, bumped the clumped rim of the newsprint on your cupid's bow in bending rumination, steadied it cause newspaper smells oddly good— but next to minutes racing hours upon musing, a conclusion had to knock your static looping of gloomdom in the butt.

One phone call, and the bird would be barred again. Pesterer, Elaine the Terrible, would be cast back where eyes can't roll over the cottony clouds. Just a couple fucking prods to your number–pad, might genuinely un–drain you.

Luckily, you aren't an idiot reared to take bullshit longer than meritted.

You took the job.

May 30th, 1995, 7:28 PM.

What does any clever pedestrian traipsing capricious terrain store in their pack to avoid total gangly–branch–grips–of–nature butchery?

Item one; Black nylons— scratch that, you aren't getting paid to snag at every kink and curl of the forest, tighties of gossamery fabrics are a no–go. Citywear stays citywear. Double scratch on those sweet, blackberry Mary Janes too prized and polished to muck up in shit of the earth. Immolating the rigid underside of some chunky hiking boots to the unruly woodlands is the adrenaline pinnacle of out–worlding, come on. It proves you've got a hardy backbone and the right row of teeth to chew what you've bitten off, sullying boots ‘till the color is forevermore stained. Backup boots are tradition, so that's item number two. Best get used to cargo, ankle–length overalls and miscellaneous graphic tees, cause the rockies’ fashion gurus can't get enough of ‘em!

Clothing, check.

Swathes of ropes twined pumpkiny orange and plenty of clanging anchors to bolt them in, goddesses and gods forbid you be tight on anchors. Medical kits— duh, did you trudge all from yonder just to die out here? This country is dicey, at the cuddly claw of a bear, or not. Hair ties, scrunchies you hoarded as a teenager in the eighties, disposable camera to suit your flaky memories, and an eclectic dump of nutty and fruity cereal bars galore. Unless you're allergic. Substitute.

Accessories and essentials, check.

Ah, and a spare pistol and switchblade in replacement of newcomer paranoia! Keep that hush–hush though. No matches or lighters, obviously.

True American, illegal weaponry, check.

All this paraphernalia bangs and clangs heavily on the polyester holding of your backpack, straining your scruff uncomfortably as you tiptoe, scarcely tumble, and tread lightly across a log. It creaks, it groans, it wobbles slightly over the blaring white rush of a stream, suctioning your heart–to–stomach when it grinds a wee bit louder than you thought it should.

“Shit!” you crimp your torso in and dart wary hands on the timber beam at your feet, assuming a gawky newborn–bambi–pose in hesitation, shuddering in cracked tones, “This can't be the right way..”

Hoping on an evaporated sun, you frazzlingly testify in repetitive thought that the map mailed by the rangers a week prior led you on this perilous and incorrect path.. for the last two days. Winding and wounding, literally— your bruises are measureless and on top of that ache your skin to want no more of this. But, you have to. A boulevard of brown, short and stout, wrung unyielding from one gray side to the greener other, a shortcut. Assumed to be a shortcut, based on the route drawn by utter confusion.

Oh yeah, and remember the advertisement stating the park was twenty-five miles out?

Nothing about that hot-press, black-cat inked newspaper accounted for the extra eight weighing your ankles down and your motivation dead low. Twenty-five only stretched out unto the ranger parking lot. The entrance, for fuck's sake.

Shaky flit of your digits, they float gently off the carve–veined surface of the wood, unfolding your spine as you rise. “Wrong way—” you utter to your chest, oven–warm as it puffs, “—gotta be the wrong..”

Tentative–ism is normal here, right? Like, no way you're cautious and sweating at the brow for nothing. Right?

One foot— creeakkk— in front of the prudent other, two sailing lunges, three hurried hops and a matched thud soft as marshmallows plants your shoes to hallowed ground. Blades of verdant whiskers so innocent crush under, and it feels fucking— demeaning, actually. All that gulping and pausing.. for nothing.

You tuck a shoulder–glance to the makeshift ricket of a bridge, and blankface, “Didn't feel like killing me today?”

The tree bears no reply.

“Hmph, surprising. Seeing as someone killed you,” a sigh parts, fading into the whip and straightening of your head, “figured the pursuit of revenge doesn't stop at ghosts.” and the hoist of your boot up, carrying onward.

Sundown paints, crescent layers repose approaching moonlight and dying sunlight sprawls psychedelic limbs above you. Balance ambling in tiny bops only made the swirling grasp of those gradient rays more trippy on your eyes and coercive of daydreams, rot–nip for the brain. You spot nutbrown brick— a fireplace in your mind, fevered heat roasting on the inside wall of your forehead too. It was Christmas before the storm, a subzero December. And it was, in fact, colder than the unreachable heaven. Dad was hunkered down in front of that innocuous amber crackle, his right leg slack to the ground and his left arched in the neck of an acoustic guitar, arms plaiting its hollow curve into his chest. 1971, when the veil through and within was thin, and love–vomit poured so easily through. A time of justified ignorance; Childhood.

Stood you adjacently, legs short and posolutely not stout, dimpled in the knees. Aged two years, and mushy as ambrosia, contorting your mouth jubilant as you're told for the camera, contrary to your father with his expression drooping to his strumming fingers. Sickly sweets, adult–you unpurposefully neglects to twirl lips at, your extraordinary grins now turned ordinary flat–lines. Holiday memoirs, those spoiled ripe quick after adulthood bolted itself in the slabs of your tender spine and instilled an artificial love for labor and country, displacing nostalgia from ever being seen as a flesh existence.

“Say cheese!”

America is sub–human, and sub–humans created America, the imperfect cycle. Families tear, eagles outcry, friends drink their death, and the days continue to unfold without a trace of acknowledgement. Days exist where you soak festivities and stave off the pointer–finger poking at so called slack you relish, and some twenty dwindling years ahead the slowly deadening oak grove road, carousals will be criminally known as layabout–makers.

Joy is a luxury now.

A blockage prevents your foot from winching clean forward, meeting the bone–hard kiss of a boulder to sore your toes. “Fuck!” you brand your throat walls to a shout, pissed at the rock rather than your woolgather that lead you to said rock, “Fucking fuckhead rock!”

Woolgather means daydreams, by the way. Funner to use words that don't make a split of sense. Yay for English.

The sunset clouds dripped with a mania of fascination and had strung your brain to its hypnotic whims, like a siren had soloed a trance, drifting your mind somewhere utopian and phantasmagorical. It sounds silly, but, blanking out seems so often out of grasp from your control, you usually could never flag what caused it, when it started, and why. Nothing practical surfaces. Fuck, your head is so tangled upon memories, you haven't even noticed the progression of scenery twelve o’clock from you.

Ponderosa boughs band together where your eyes brush shapes and forage for a clue of what scene wants to greet you ahead. The sequestering silence of rustles indicates a clearing, possibly. Possible as it could be, you fully expected this cruel footslog to wallop your ass into a minefield, so you bet cards and course carefully beneath the crowns of pine, completely bent to the chance of another obstacle threatening your tender ankles. Leafy whispers above strum your ears brimmed with its sotto voce song, and then— colors it silently behind.

“Holy shit.”

Presence crumbles above you, and opens before you. The lookout. Wood shafts slant in opposing directions, up and up along four brawny beams in three consecutive layers, like a blocky cone. The face closest to you overlaps the backing rest, giving the illusion of tufted wooden legs sketched under all lackadaisical. Endgame daylight spies from behind this one–roomed cyclops, gushing final spurts of citrus rays as if it truly was an orange squeezed to pulp. So, the flank and forehead of that towering, mountainscaping lookout rolling a cold shoulder to the sun, paves in a tattered tapestry of garnet smokiness instead. Shadow of sundown. From where you sow feet, a football field apart, petty details are difficult to squint into clarity, but the window panes appear tawny, too.

An intimidation, “So much for a tiny room.” A beaute intimidation, “And no actual bathroom.” it makes you feel like a genuine insect compared.

A sort of stairwell serpent faintly chokes the foot, the calves, the thighs, and punctures kindly a mouth leading up to the skirting balcony hedged in many gaunt teeth. Tamping gravel closer, subtleties and fine points fade as the tower's plank–lined and flat underbelly turns to you. Larger and larger, it dips darkly from miniscule masquerade.

Bringing your decently aching foot to the first step, you press into the curb and meander your cruder aching— thanks to a random boulder— foot weirdly on the outer ridge of your boot. Making it up the stairs to fund yourself a fucking break was a palpable mockery in itself. Like, ‘Hey! Climb this long–ass stairwell for a teensy break before doing it all over again the next day!’.

Un–fucking–believable.

Fifty years of history and past rangers grate in your walk, the floorboards thump with their stories, thump into your skin— verse you a wordless eulogy. Each step is a sentence, and every sentence branches into a whole tree of genealogy, lives. Lifestyles you can't understand now, but will.

Really redundant of me to highlight the generations alive in those floorboards. The walk up there isn’t that exciting.

After the last step, you're met eye–to–frame with a scratched door, pygmy window centered and paper–screened from within, and the stories predating your stay inspire a comical theory, “Jeez— bears make it up here?” you half–suppress a snort, palming a fist on the doorknob coldly before rotating and giving sympathetic pressure to the door.. jammed.

“C’mon..” knuckles pulse into the knobs plate, gradually upping the force you pushed, “.. losing light out here..” eventually adding your other hand to sweeten the push.

Sure, a whole year has gone by since it homed somebody, and it's retro, but come on.

Breaking splinters into the door was your last intention, so you try so–so carefully— to some extent, “Please..” now butting the tip of your boot on the rim to ease it— ease, and finally pry, a clapback of wind blowing dusty, nightfall air past your crescent cheeks following the snap of the fallow door.

Thank goodness for your grace and balance, some days, avoiding a timely trip face–first to a floor so powdered in light dust, any kid would mistake it for a good time sweeping snow angels.

Not so good for the respiratory system though.

Muggy space filtering your lungs tightly, you cough out, “Gah— fuck!” nothing higher than the level of a guttural wheeze, your chest punching into your throat. Gaping out the last flock of butterflies clumped at your collarbones, the tickle inside calms, and you find your sights taking in a dark box. A dim orb of lily silver glow rests in the middle of the pall room, raising the natural, “Where's the ligh— ah, big clunky thing—”

Flicking the off–white and stubby nub attached to an impractically sized lightswitch, which frankly resembles an electric box externally, an essence of Apollo ladens the room. Lemony–gold light, passably bright off the redwood ceiling, and murmuring a low buzz through one ear, and out the other, your pupils caper along the contrasting shades awakened.

“Definitely retro, but.. no roommates.” spoke you, gingerly content with the colors piecing this camper pad together. You observe.

Forget–me–nots bled the cotton bedsheets baby blue, leavening the mattress with a tidy emotion as it's tucked, folded at the top and draped in a complimentary quilt— benevolent blues, hues your lids soften on. The bed beelined from the doorway, a corner counter fawn–brown as the wood extends adjacent to it, covering the northeastern angle of the room. Magpied brands of canned food clutter shelves, spines spanning thick books of epic poetry to sci–fi comics create a ribcage of literature along a compact bookcase perching that countertop, and sunken in the east side of it, a steel sink. It shimmered sunflower bands of light as you moved, a rainbow–arched faucet brightened completely.

Step by step, you draw near a circular table in the middle. Strange rods and gadgets stuck out of the borders, inlaid glass protecting a local map so sleek you could see a phantom of your face in it, and a black bar looming the width, so it rings with tangible importance. Of which you'll gauge about later. Truthfully, the journey by foot here? Dead–beating, your knees bloated, throbbed flesh hot, and almost buckled; fatigues infamous way of scolding you to sit the fuck—

“Sup Maple lake, you there?”

A pang hammers to your heart, and a crawlish wave of startled blood pales from your face and drops to your jaw, “Jesus!” sweat hitting you a blink after, every normal function just— flunked. That voice, more like a ruptured stereo sizzling, caught you the fuck off guard. Now you dither, dumbassery taking your eyes through a new loop of figuring out where–why–how and what the robotic intruder wants.

But pre–realizing, your ears perk to a more coherent, and outstretched string of static, “C'mon, know you're checked in.” and post–realization tugs your eyes to a mustardy n’ black cased device; a walkie–talkie.

Okay, way to creep recruits out. Whoever, for whatever reason— at the nick of night too, gimme’ a break. You wry, knitting raisin crinkles above your nose, trying to discern your palette of options; pick up the walkie, tap in and feign politeness in the shortest and sluggiest scraps of small talk to be done with the day, or rant off the bat— highlight how fucking late it is, and how taxing a double–goddamned–day hike made your head and patience feel. And right now, the second response route feels arguably more tempting than—

“This is Cordero Tower, calling in. Can see ya’ standing by the Osborne, by the way.”

Its staticy feedback has waned completely, densening a thick husk and tilting towards a honeyed undertone. Relaxed sounding or not, what the fuck.

You react predictably, flicking your chin west, then east only for you to meet the dead of night— thanks mountains— stalking perfectly in every single window. So, useless to check. Answering it was a yes–go, it would be sickenly awkward to thrust it under the rug now. Your knees pull forward, eyes calligraphing the power buttons tinted in cherry light, palm drawing to meet your focal point.

The case is ribbon gentle under your fingertips’ graze, fresh and in store–new condition. Maybe the only thing hot from the pot of newfangled technology. Plastic intricacies roll under until you settle on a swollen button, denting the plush of your finger as you press, hold, and speak. A crisp crackle activates your line, tuning you in.

Breath hesitates between your chords, “Maple.. lake.. speaking,” off–the–tongue words manifesting on–the–spot, “you can see me?”

“Yeah.” the walkie chuckles, sugary curl pitching up and through their tone, “Look out ur’ north window, you'll see her.”

Her?

Nooking your nose north, you only widen pupils on that same, starless coast of darkness nosing the rim of your window sills. What do they mean to—

“Nh–no,” You literally said north, “get closer to the window, n’ look up.” What, are you a fucking sparkling, rasp–voiced eagle?

“Fuck are you talking about,” mouthed you void of voice, stumped on what this person was getting at. Wedging your knuckles below the meshy underside of your backpacks right strap, you wrangle it down your arm as you glide rubbery sole along croaking oak, tossing that bag so cumbersome atop a lily white pillow— looking fresher than a daisy, and clamber the mattress pliantly dented to your knees to grasp a broader panorama.

And with that window hood washed over, a convoy of fireflies focus a tiny constellation in the murked glass. Little pinholes of light, dots in the distance. They rough–hew a blur, but the excess seconds taken to brood squints and balance the blurry blotches, an outline crops up. Another fire lookout, sprouting from rock and rise of a berg. Offspring of the distant cordillera that gives this whole park its sense of a cradled–woodland, but either way thought, a lookout hosts it home on top.

“You can see me from all the way out there?” you wondered, truly. I mean— at minimum, a sore sprawl of miles bridges you both.

“Mhm..” a pause loiters that fluid hum, then some really throaty syllables, “Binoculars~” you could almost envision— nah, feel the stare of those binocs, undoubtedly taking note of every contort in your body right now.

“Oh thats, totally.. not,” you blunt your tone, shying a few inches from the glass, “.. creepy.” awkwardly. “Uh, who are you anyways— are you like, uh, another recruit?” as you engage small talk, grumpy frown pouting, the habit of kissing your wrist to your jaw as you would a piglet–tailed telephone overruns your burnt out focus, having to wince the walkie away when your eardrums nearly burst.

Ouch.

“For one, I'm actually your supervisor. I know, I don't sound like a typical smoker–lunged, middle–aged white dude.” their tone gruffs and deepens to impersonate, finger air quotes practically radiating from the other end, “And two, my name is Ellie— Ellie Miller–Williams, if you care.”

“Don't.” you heave out the pain stretching your head, aching each time you simply thunk.

“Straightforward,” her timbre ups in approval, seemingly, “I like it. I like you, recruit I dunno’ the name of.” and a bubble hics her throat, quite audibly.

“Not single.” Wrong, just uninterested. Hooking two fingers in the fabric handle of your bag and craning it to the ground, with scattered grates of plastic buckles skating the floor.

“What?”

Oh, shit she wasn't— oops, ‘course she meant that platonically, heads so damn muggy, “Uh, it's—my name.. sorry I’m just a bit out of the loop—” Dumbass, unscramble your brain alphabet soup, will you?

“That’s a long ass name, what were your parents thinking? Haha.” Her duo–beat chuckle flares your humiliation, and then proceeds to pinch its swollen parts into total inflammation, “Where does it originate from?”

Cheesy bitch, “Can you not— I like, pfhh..” you temper yourself with a moon–cool blow to chap your lips and inflate your cheeks, ending up with a draw of an even more loosened tongue sour as it complains, “Did a whole two–day hike through the most torturous terrain just to get here, I really don't—”

Please.

And if gripes trudged through teeth aren't persuasive enough, you recess your bone–ache bod avidly in the springy haven of your bed which chirped at your weights shifting motions, collarbones packing down on your vocal chords. You shouldn't sound up to chat whatsoever. Instead, vehemently drained, “I just wanna get some shut eye, talk me over n’ the mornin’.” your thumb lying a button away from disconnecting.

“Hey, hey—” Ellie ushered, her slurry breath fogging up the mic. Lips squeak softly into it, smacking before an intone, “Can't I be a little curious?”

You synchronized in noise, sucking teeth behind heart–pursed lips, “Do you think somebody this exhausted has the appetite to entertain you?” stilling your thumb–pad on the power off key.

“If I keep bothering you,” that alone ticked you, her blatant drive to carry on when your brain rejected its substance, “.. yeah. Maybe you'll be nicer then too.. huph!” a heartier peep hicced up on the speaker, and right then that noise jogged a discovery.

“Are you drunk?” has to be.

Of course, she ignores the naked and sorely obvious, “Did your boyfriend break ur’ heart or something— an’ that's why you're out here?” bottle sloshing in the background of her mumble.

Dumbstruck, you furrow a miffy expression, “W–what, boyfriend?”

“Said you weren’t single.” she recalls, warmly unspinning the fuddle that knit your brows, “Think I forget so easily?” drawled like a sultry retort, baking your ears.

You a hundred percent forgot though.

Gosh, short–term memory sucks, or it's just your energy drought making you woozy. Blame it on lethargy, “No no, that was just.. tired talk. I thought you were hitting on me.”

“Oh? That's cute.” her choosing to say that latter statement unfolded discordantly, you seriously couldn’t gauge if that was a flirt, or another paper daisy— mock honey, a platonic notion. Even so, it sounded so damn smooth, lace to the ears. “But no, I wasn't— m'not like gay or ‘whutever.” stammered her, light snort fanning.

A stifled chuckle hops from your chest, mixing with hers, “Uhuh, cool.” halfway uncaring and halfway amused, bafflement working your facial muscles.

“Yeah, um, but seriously..” her voice drifts into a ponderous rasp, the faint rustles of flimsy paper licking page to page subtler than her speech, “what's got you out here, newbie?”

“Newbie. Really?” A brow pricks.

“I mean, you're new— new to the lookout, new to the job, in need of my phenomenal supervision and my wide range of knowledge. Yeah, a newbie.”

Then your brow mellows, tension held in your face dropping dead on backhanded flattery, “You are funnily agonizing.”

“Aw.” her scratchily suave coo has your jaw set like stone, “That's so sweet.” but her short–lived song has your heartstrings soaked in ripe honeycomb, touched to the core by sweetness nebulose and an assortment of some foreign threads. Thickened heart, tighter ribs, a churn to weaken your stomach, a maverick of things unfamiliar to you.

Momentaries, but still noticeable even if your senses were twisted backwards.

Chewing over how you'll begin to explain, a few letters sift through your chords, until you hook on a sigh, “Ah, well, I'm out here for a fuck ton of reasons—”

“Reasons, or— huhp, problems?” Ellie blurt–hics, nosy.

“..”

A brief gulp and exhale wheezes from her, “Sorry, it's the bourbons’— super good. Continue.”

You loosely split your mouth, gasping to exchange a gale for words pressing out, “A series of reasons, and problems, that I don't bother to lay on a grand platter, so you'll get a summary tossed on an appetizer plate.” you preface. Allow an elliptical gap to cut through, rousing her hum to let you know her ears are as intent–peaked as a Chihuahua’s, “Contact with my parents’ has gone cold, my last job made me want to hurl into a pack of crocodiles— and the city became too loud and too heavy–handed. Saw this job on the local paper, and got the hell out of dodge.”

An omissive summary, you meant.

There’s more that eats the heart. People can’t just.. drop the burden of knowledge wantonly on randos like they’re idling under fertile treetops waiting for the apples to plummet, biting into a pulpy biography. She’s just a girl, not a therapist.

A discomforted purr lengthens into her reply, “Mmmmh, ever try a drink or two?” her intoxicated reply.

“Oh, see,” you flap your hand and slap it to your denim clad thigh, “you are drunk.” as if she could even see your gesture.

“No, I’m Ellie, hmhm~” comes with a giggle, and you consider her state of insobriety to be— wavering, but it’s stimulating to hear her fluctuate between groaned jokes and extra raspy comments, “Still haven’t told me your name though.”

Some moments during this whole ‘Who are you?’ seminar made you concerned for your future here— if you’ll make it out psyche intact, but some moments found by winnowing through the illogical backtalk touched you with inbound camaraderie.

Invisible touches that inhabit your neck with a leak of your name so— sincerely. It transforms into a fairer sound on your ears when she repeats it, affirming it. Nobody else's teeth clutches your name so welcome as she.

“Hmm, ‘name kinda fits your voice.” odd commentary, but since composed with her already peculiar and drunken tongue, the shoe fits.

That said, crabby confusion seems easier to articulate, “Thanks, weirdo.” but lips rebellious, they press an inevitable grin together.

“No problem, sleepyhead.”

So many nicknames.

Recognizing that downtick in hubbubs and breaths on the walkie, checking out for the night posed as a passionate option the burden weighing your eyelids couldn't or shouldn't veto. So you haul your torso up, kick and poke your toes over ankles to butt your boots off prior planting your heels, whisking toward the lightswitch and committing your lookout to swell with the outside's dark fresco.

Stygian tones.

“Speaking of sleepy heads..” you taper off speech, leaving the rest to her— touch wood— wide enough, hopefully–not–drunk–enough imagination to fathom as you slide and slip desperately beneath woolen blankets, sleepy worries, and sentences sailed to rest.

“Aw man.” Ellie bums so, so stupidly, for comical value.

“Yeah, man.”

“Mpht—” wetness smacks, “wanted to bore a pretty girl to death with recruit regulations and syllabi..”

How would you know?

In reality, Ellie was reaching a transcendent caliber of wasted, drinking up your atmospherics and drunken to her gutly core. Woods hatch forlorn people; forlorn people get thirsty, “But, mhh, heads’ nearly falling off, whoof.” she expresses a soaring of vowels, but it parallels a gruff howl more.

Drowsy, buzzy jubilancy, plucking her flirty strums. You sugarcoat the flare in your chest hearing ‘pretty girl’, ears clicking to the swallow convincing your heart that Ellie was not flirting. As established; She’s under the influence, and not gay. Your brain repeats that, over and over, repeat, repeat, she isn’t flirting.

“Hey, here's a tip..” you inch the walkie a penny away from your flopped head, clefting your lip open, “Don't get drunk on the job. They didn't hire you to decoct your brain the day before chaperoning a recruit in the literal wilderness. So, stash that shit, n’ let's both get some shut eye, yeah?” and saying all that, may have just cashed in your last dose of breath and brain cells for the night.

Ellie being Ellie— well, what you suspect is a ‘her’ thing after these few speckled minutes, dopily laughs at you. And dammit if she wasn't glamoring a dopey smirk in accord, you’ll have gleaned wrong.

A voice, “Who’s the boss again?” her witty and cruel wisecrack, “They didn't pay you to boss the— hup, boss around.”

They will pay you to confront and reflect your spectrum of limits if this girl brushes their seams, that's for certain. Or, play God and lambast her, tender as milk.

There's even a stroke of a chance, that your crooked lips poached her dopey grin instead, “Kay, well, maybe they'll reimburse me for your poor services.”

“My services are not poor. You'll see, tomorrow.” the volume of her melts away, going muted under liquid swills clanging on glass.

“Please tell me that's the sound of you putting the bottle away.”

“Mhm!” came out plugged, the bottle confining her garble, then popping clean as a cork, “Fuck— okay,” she siphons air in, pure little clink tinting the end of her sharp–edged sniffle, “Make sleeping in earlier worth it t’morrow, wanna drive you nuts with my questions.” she nasals, drawing near the mic again.

Such a magpie, “Cause you're lonely?” and weird.

“Shut up,” she shushes you, a satin whisper light–hearted and quick on beat, “M’not lonely anymore, right?” The type of softly spoken outcry that would balloon your cheeks with soreness if you were face–to–face with the throat that conducts it. Involuntary smiles plague you everywhere. But there is no mouth, no larynx, no throat that you view the swallow of. Just a walkie, so you settle in stoicism.

You tug your upper–lip and pivot your eyes, drumming up something clever to combat, “In a sense. Not like we’re bunkmates, thank goodness.”

“Fuck you,” Ellie breaks into a cuss spout so serenely, she sounded small and harmless, “just go to bed.” reduced to birch in winter shed of its brittle autumn arguments.

“Don’t gotta tell me once.”

By the first full and emphatic giggle she cast just now that wasn’t suppressed nor achieved by humble pie, you take it that Ellie found you funnily harrowing just as her, two peas in an outstretched pod. Fault be with her, for getting wasted. Otherwise, you might have pried her skull open with questions dolled up as a pruner, clipping the forelimbs that are foliated in a messy breadth of first glance leaflets and attitudes until you piece it prettily, in a way that thralls you to never shrink your eyes back into their sockets. Drunk people are like prone beehives though, so you don't prod them.

Tomorrow, you can paint her portrait, or vice versa.

“Whatever you say, newbie.”

And with the whirry crunch of the walkie shutting off, Monday, came to a close.

if you enjoyed this chapter, please lmk what you thought!! i love getting asks about my content ♡

perm taglist: @whore4abby @aouiaa @ellieslittlewhore @baumbii @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @fleshunger @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @fairyysoiree @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @disaster-bi-suki @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @ellieswh0r3 @beemillss @elsmissingfingers @bugaboodarling @slynxs @maleelee @savannahsdeath @littlegingerperson5 @seraphicsentences series taglist: @tearouthearts @planetloverr @elliesexual @isitadinosaur @eveshyper @3lli3l0v3r @yourmothersfavgirl @emst4rr @theloserqueen @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @whenlostinthedarkness @diddiqueen @deliriousrn

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yourpsicodelicbitch · 10 months

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astro thoughts 🏇🌈✨💫🍳

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH ❤️ even though it’s almost July

disclaimer: I didn’t check my orthography

i hate it but what’s trying to tell me the universe. my friend reminds me of my mom 😭 kill me pls. she have sun 11H, she worries a lot about how others understand what she saids, what others may think of her. she wants to be peaceful but at the same time she have moon in scorpio so she’s struggling and she have a certain opinion about others based on the first impression or what made more impact -negative? idk. now I feel judge -I think it’s my anxiety-. Update: i said what was bothering me to her and everything is said, I’m proud of me, I’m in peace, she responded in a understanding manner. I can breath.

the degree of your ascendant says ALOT, not only about the physical appearance. it could point out even your career, how’s focused your life, how you react…now that I think about it, it’s like an ascendant in your ascendant pc (but if it confused you ignore it).

for example, my friend have gemini degree in his ascendant, he’s doing his major in communication, his family is full of artists and specially musicians, so he grew up knowing how to play every music instrument, it’s like breathing to him, music. he’s used to it and he express himself by composing and being curious, wanting to know about this and that. other example: my other friend has a gemini rising but I was thinking “there’s something that’s missing” 👀 the leo degree of course. he be slayyiing💅 he’s sassy. he knows what he wants and people always be wanting him not the other way around 🙄 he’s like purr stunning gurl 💋

the same friend told me the other day that his first impression of me was or exactly what he thought: “you don’t want to mess with her” “I wouldn’t mess with her ever”. he told me I remembered him of maddy of euphoria -I gave him the idea bc I didn’t understand and he agreed-. Ascendant - Saturn aspects make you look like a bad bitch, like they’ll kick your ass if you don’t do what they tell you, THEY ARE. The structure of their face is also bony. They look like they’re mad, like they’re on their way and if you step there you’re dead: karmic. The jawline, omg, is sharp, it could cut you.

Picture 1 Picture 2 Picture3

Also, bc Capricorn is ruled by Saturn, Capricorn ascendants and saturn-ascendant aspects share characteristics but are not the same? Capricorn risings have this cheekbones that are so sensual and even if they age, the cheekbones are still there, what you notice first is that. What they share is the intimidating aura strangers perceive. In different levels or forms I believe.

Dakota Johnson Gisele Bündchen

TWO QUEENS THAT I CANT FINISH TO DESCRIBE HOW THEIRE SO ETHEREAL BEAUTIFUL STUNNING ICONIC AND INFINITE THINGS MORE

I have Mars in Retrograde. I don’t know what bothers me until I explode or until I go to my psychologist. I minimize what bothers me and save it all in the back, so then my brain will hurt. I don’t figure out or notice when something bothers me bc I don’t think is a big deal or that’s a joke, but even if it’s a joke I can still not like it -a side note-. You’ll find me realizing later what was bothering me and then struggling to tell people how I really felt when they did THAT something.

Picture from Pinterest

when the kid’s mercury is sextile Saturn’s dad (synastry: mercury sextile saturn), it means the dad communicates with their child as a way of teaching, caring about them. through their communication, they share childhood stories, experiences of any type and what they have learned about them, what they have observed. trough their talking they share their wisdom. the father have all the attention of their kid when he opens his mouth. the kid somehow knows something important is about to be said or they admires their dad that much.

Picture from Pinterest

Leo moons 5H + aries degree can be pretty egoist, they could lost themselves in the idea of something, of having it. Also they don’t think, twice letting themselves be carried by the emotion that idea gives them. They’re in their pretty little world of fun but they are not looking what’s happening to others, they’re hungry for their passion. I HAVE TO TELL: not everyone with these placements are like this and blablabla -the same thing I say for precaution- AND I had something, it’s not even something 🙄 I had nothing with these placement k? but it gives you an explanation for my attitude. STILL, I think I gotta mention some of the synastry so it’ll make sense. In another time bc I don’t want to waste my energy in that -and don’t want to-.

Saturn in opposition with Uranus aspect makes the individual stay in the doubt. They’re stanched while they keep analyzing the pro and cons of the situation they want to start/be part. Even if someone extern try to help, they’ll be doubting more.

Virgo moons are just so wholesome ☹️❤️ They want to help. they’re always doing something. they want the best for you. they care of others as if they take care of themselves but better, sadly. they work too much they need a rest but they know they’ll be anxious of doing nothing. they’re just pure souls. they’re so kind. always helping in a ONG/organization that helps needed ones.

Aquarius mercury always have something to say, they’re always right 🙄 even though they say it’s comprensible and natural that everyone have their own beliefs I don’t believe them. I think they think their mindset is better and everyone should follow it. LIKE GURL WTF I know you think you are wise and shit and you’ve passed through experiences that made you learned and that inspired you to tell them to others BUT let others make mistakes and be wrong, let others don’t be like you, there’s the beauty. I always find them criticizing others for their manners, as if they have lived the same way you did.

I don’t believe/trust? in libras, yeah ok may be that my sun is in libra but not my whole chart. That’s what I’m talking about, with that last sentence I’m gaslighting you 💌 how tf you believe in libras when they don’t tell the truth directly I CANT. With my honesty I gotta mention that my libra sun appear when I don’t want to ruin something that benefits me, when I don’t know the person and I try my best, to my sag/scorpio/aquarius placements to not appear. They always keep something in their minds, they don’t tell you all, they keep to themselves some part, could be to not hurt you, doesn’t benefits them or whatever. a friend with moon in libra degree and another with libra moon: I always want them to say what they want, they can’t. I want to squish the hell out of them bc I can’t too😭🔪

Ceres 3H is a good placement for a psychologist. How they motivate others using their minds, that easily absorbs and process/analyses experiences and knowledge, to finally find a solution depending on the case -of the patient-, so it’ll be suitable. When they help others, their communication keeps improving with time. More experience = better. Still, it’s natural.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

❀ Based on my personal experience.

❀ English is not my first language.

❀ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

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seafoamreadings · 4 days

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week of april 21st, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: the biggest astrological news of your week is the end of mercury retrograde right in the middle of your sign. you can still anticipate a little bit of shenanigans for a few days afterward since it is so close to home for you, but from here on out a little peaceful normalcy re-enters your life. if you need more chaos it'll have to be the kind you make for yourself.

taurus: aries antics are not yet at an end but in many ways your sign now becomes the star of the show. on some levels this will be quite fun for you, especially if you thrive under positive attention from others. on other levels, the shifts and changes can be overwhelming to your stolid and stable sign. try to be surprised and delighted rather than shocked and dismayed. it's probably not all so bad and if it is, you will prevail.

gemini: the end of a mercury retrograde is always good news for a gemini. your mind clears where there was recently any brain fog or fuzziness. the fumbling and bumbling shifts back to your natural willowy gracefulness. other things are going on this week too but this is the biggest relief for you.

cancerians: mercury retrograde has been hard for the cardinal signs like you, but its end this week is a breath of fresh air. meanwhile a full scorpio moon can also help you recharge any intellectual or mental fatigue you have been experiencing lately, but do expect to be in your feelings a bit about it. not that that's a bad thing, no matter what some might say. it is one of your gifts, how deeply you can feel.

leo: you'll have a lot of strong feelings early on this week but by the weekend your head and heart are much clearer. physical exercise benefits you, so head to a gym or just have a little nice gallivanting outdoors.

virgo: the more mercurial virgoans will feel great relief as mercury goes direct at last. but don't jump in too quickly to any contracts or sharing resources. less mercurial virgoans will be more focused on mars-neptune in pisces, bringing some illusions (or disillusionment) to relationships. emilie du chatelet said our happiness depends on our illusions, so it is ok to embrace them to some degree, but don't let anyone lie to you or do you harm.

libra: this week's astrology portends mainly good things (although also shifting things) in your relationships, perhaps some delusion or manipulation occurring in some routine or place of work, and a full moon involving your money. if you've been financially wise and responsible, this could be great news. if you've let your luxurious venusian tendencies get the better of you recently, perhaps less great.

scorpio: you may find yourself saying mercury schmercury to the folks hyped up about mercury retrograde this week, but it's mostly due to the full moon that occurs in your sign shortly beforehand. your daily routines run smoother than ever but your emotions are heated and overflowing. don't try to cram it down. let it out, in private if need be.

sagittarius: mercury direct again may well herald a creative breakthrough. or, perhaps juicier, a new relationship or fling. or even an affair, if you're that kind of sagittarian.

capricorn: your sign and your cardinal brethren will certainly feel a relief of some tension or disarray as mercury resumes forward motion this week. the first half of the week is also a great time for you to socialize, if you have the time!

aquarius: almost for sure, you'll receive some sort of important or, at minimum, 'interesting' message around the time that mercury ends its retrograde this week. and before that/at the same time, the full moon in scorpio lights up your 10th house of status and legacy, so while you may not want to be out there posting any serious news on your socials, it's ok to take credit for work well done.

pisces: if you can, avoid spending money (especially on anything important) until next week. on the other hand, academic pursuits get a major boost and if you're not an academic, at least get philosophical about something close to your heart. by the end of the week a mars-neptune conjunction gives you energy, although perhaps not of the physical sort. avoid lying to yourself or others.

#astrology #horoscopes #horoscope #weekly horoscopes #weekly horoscope #signs #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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deepmochi · 2 years

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Saturn and restrictions 🪐

In astrology, Saturn restricts us and usually comes from our childhood traumas. [Edit] Sometimes, In Roman mythology, Saturn was related to time and harvest, in Greek associated with Cronus the titan, Zeus (Júpiter). He knew that one of his children would defeat him. So, he decides to eat each of his children, basically, he restricts them from living.

There is no surprise that our placement regarding Saturn presents delays and restrictions. These restrictions come from authority figures since we are young.

Edit: I mistake Kronus and Cronus in my original publication, but phonetically in my Spanish brain it sounds the same. It's not a excuse, but here we go. Also, I did this theory while thinking in Goya's painting "Saturn eating his son"; it's quite gorish, but my original inspo / idea comes from that "Saturn" aka the painting.

⚠️Read. This post is about things that I notice about Saturn in the houses. Just take what resonates. If this post triggers you for any reason, it's okay to try to breathe and don't force it.

Furthermore, Saturn can show our restrictions due to karmic consequences. If you have Saturn retrograde, this may take longer to acknowledge.

These are possible issues, but just take what resonates.

꩜ Saturn in the 1st house: these natives were restricted in their appearance or approach to life. Others, rigorous figures dislike the way they present themselves to life. Restricted household name. Imposition of a purpose. Problems with self-image due to parental comments. People tell you how to behave and act in front of others.

꩜ Saturn in the 2nd house: they were restricted in drawing boundaries. It may be the case that the native always feels pressure to share their possessions with others. Stability and comfort were not expected. Money was too much or nonexistent. Stability over love. Poor self-esteem. Others took your time and things for their use without asking.

꩜Saturn in the 3rd house: Parents or teachers restricted the native communication. They make the individual feels incompetent or out of place, whenever they share opinions or ideas with others. Bad relationships with siblings. Siblings laugh at how they talk. Problems with words. Others tell you how "awkward" you sound or the worst thing. They make you regret expressing yourself.

꩜Saturn in the 4th house: a restricted home, this could be throughout inheritance of some sort of. Their emotions and feelings were prohibited by a mother or a maternal figure. This could also be a physical space: a small house. The 4th house is ruled by the moon. You were called "weak" or too sensitive. You should honor your traditions even if you didn't like them.

꩜Saturn in the 5th house: these people were obligated to act mature or calm. Even though they were expressive, others degraded their creativity. They were too happy or too naive. People make them feel out of place. They were told to shut up because they were too loud. People make fun of them.

꩜Saturn in the 6th house: they were exposed to overindulgence in childhood. Also, poor health habits or poverty. Their parents never limit their habits. So, now they may overwork in their health or workplace. Routines were so present that bored them or everything was spontaneously making them feel unsafe. Being organized was part of their routine. Eating was complicated. Eat guilt and shame from your parents "you should finish your meal because many people are starving"

꩜Saturn in the 7th house: power struggles and restrictive relationships and partnerships. Parents were always in conflict. People who were close neglected or ignored the native's needs. They didn't learn what companionship or equality is. Others push your boundaries, and you didn't act on it. A need to be perfect was a thing.

꩜Saturn in the 8th house: identity crisis or hiding self. They were dictated to hide due to an image. This also means someone controlling you like a possession. Sexuality was a taboo, so they restrict you from expressingyourself. Other people manage your money or possessions to leave you in fear. Hiding your fear under your bed. Religion imposition and all the issues around it. Feeling ashamed because they are "different". They put you on the pedestal and you didn't like it.

꩜Saturn in the 9th house: You were restricted from following your convictions and philosophies. Life was under a regime of education for others. Maybe, you study too much in different educational institutions. Learning was too insufficient or too exhausting. They make fear knowing things; you were constantly told to stay still. "Don't move"

꩜Saturn in the 10th house: People give you responsibilities that you didn't deserve. They make you grow up too fast. They make you aware of your persona, and now you feel restricted to feel free. Constant burnout, too. Child prodigy issues. You need to be active all the time because productivity is key to success; this constant movement makes you feel empty.

꩜Saturn in the 11th house: you were restricted to use your knowledge and compassion toward others. Your parents reprimanded you for using technology devices or you didn't have any device. People restrict your higher knowledge and being "different" was seen as bad. Also, you were pushed to be alone and be away from communities or "your people".

꩜Saturn in the 12th house: people restricted your inner essence. The unknown part that they felt was not you. Also, you were secluded from religion; either your spiritual beliefs and experience or religion restricted you, too You may lie to yourself often. Mental health was restricted too. Parental figures hide you from others.

Take care <3

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middlenamesage · 2 months

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Tumblr is VERY Piscean and I think it’s absolutely beautiful.

Today I woke up thinking about how Tumblr has been the only website out there where I can share longer writings of mine and get them noticed and appreciated by merely including hashtags. The niche as a writer that I am falling into is extremely unconventional- it’s vulnerable personal accounts of my life, contextualized by astrology that naturally most want to come from me. And I am very grateful for anyone who resonates with my frequency and appreciates my messages, because I know I’m basically out here trauma dumping😂, and to happen across other people who are here for both that and astrology, is surely a rarity!

I was feeling grateful enough for Tumblr this morning to get the idea to look up when this site was launched. I was curious just what were the open-minded dynamics, so accepting of emotional vulnerability, that characterize Tumblr. To my pleasant surprise, Google informed me that Tumblr was launched at the very beginning of Pisces Season- meaning that it’s just about to have its birthday.

But that wasn’t all. Tumblr’s conception chart (with time unknown, but at least city known) is likely the most Piscean chart I have personally ever seen. 💖 Every single personal planet except Mars is in Pisces (and maybe it’s a good thing Mars didn’t join this party😂). All this Piscean energy seems to create a realm where I can find others as if I’m divinely guided by the Universal spirit which connects us all.

There’s vast yet connected territory here, because Pisces is the very undercurrent that runs through all of society. It’s the 12th and final sign, so it holds a little understanding of them all. 💧

Pisces holds so much power, it just holds it graciously. And often inconspicuously.

Pisces also explains why I was just realizing I see so many emojis included in informative astro Tumblr posts, compared to other sites. I’d been wondering if Cancer had a hand in this somehow (I myself am a Cancer Mercury, and please don’t ask me to not include emojis in my writing😂). But Pisces really makes a lot of sense too. Both Cancer and Pisces energy want to show expression in emotional terms… and emojis are so good for that. ❤️

And jeez, Tumblr still has relevance after seventeen years?! What other social media sites can you manage to say that about?? 🤔 This really shows the fluid and mutable ability of Pisces to adapt.

The Moon and Venus in Pisces in Tumblr’s conception chart really create an expression of Pisces energy that’s especially accepting and open to emotional vulnerability. And personally, they are trine my Moon in Scorpio, explaining even more why Tumblr-ites can stomach any sharing of my trauma. 😂 As if that wasn’t beautiful enough, the Pisces Sun in this chart is on my Pisces ascendant. No wonder I feel this is the only site I’ve so far found that gives me and my writing a place to shine. 🌞

Mercury retrograde in Pisces could be seen by some as indicative of a site where not the most comprehensively informative nor practical writing is shared. But I see it as indicative of a site where writing that makes people reflect on their emotions, grow their imagination, and even feel open to the web of Spirit connecting us all, is shared. I’ve long been fascinated and often admired a Mercury in “detriment” because it brings Jupiter’s realm up into Mercury’s realm; merging areas that can relate to the concepts of “left brain” and “right brain”, sometimes in amazing ways. And Mercury retrograde just gives us more opportunities for inward reflection. I love that posts can stay relevant here for ages, as we keep coming back to reflect upon them.

Jupiter is at home in Sagittarius in Tumblr’s profoundly Piscean conception chart, and aspecting some of those Pisces placements, so I think you can say this chart is extremely Jupiterian in every way. Personally, I’m so here for the expansive energy. 🏹 There are many ways to grow your philosophies hanging around on this site.

And I should mention that Uranus is also with the group of powerful forces for love and oneness hanging out in Pisces, because this is a revolution.

Thanks to the North Node also in Pisces in Tumblr’s chart, lending extra forward motion to this whole movement, I’d say exploring Jupiter territory, most colored by the loving, accepting, and spirit-recognizing side of Jupiter that is Pisces, is a perfectly appropriate direction for this site to only go deeper in.

Happy Birthday (tomorrow), Tumblr! Thanks for providing a meeting ground for beautiful, inclusive souls who can learn from each other.

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ms-m-astrologer · 2 months

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Transiting Sun enters Pisces

Monday, February 19 - Wednesday, March 20, 2024

Pisces the Fish*:

Water (emotional and soul - feeling, nurturing, hidden, sensitive)

Yin (security - ingoing, receptive, intuitive, right-brained)

Mutable (adapting to learning - distributing, connecting, adaptable, flexible, scattered)

Transpersonal (universal - focused on ideals and abstractions

“I imagine"

Rulers - Jupiter (traditional), Neptune (modern); exalted - Venus

Colors - blue-greens where you’re never sure if it’s more blue or more green

(* Gleaned almost completely from the book Astrology for Yourself by Bloch and George; the color is my own theory/belief.)

Dreamy season, during which we learn the difference between “going with the flow” and “drifting.” As Neptune nears the end of its travel through Pisces (it begins to transition to Aries next year), we should be more aware of how these “enhanced” Pisces transits have gone - what lessons have we learned? And where do we need to finish up or let go?

Friday, February 23 - Sun/Pisces square Pallas Athene/Sagittarius, 4°26’. Some indecision. Wanting to do the right, noble thing, without knowing how.

Saturday, February 24 - Full Moon, 5°23’ Virgo. We’re still torn about our direction - feelings of guilt only complicate the matters. If we can figure out our real responsibilites, life flows more easily.

Sunday, February 25 - Sun/Pisces sextile Ceres/Capricorn, 6°21’. A practical outlet for all that heavily guilty Full Moon energy. Kind of like the end of Candide, we look toward our own (figurative) gardens.

Wednesday, February 28:

Sun/Pisces conjunct Mercury/Pisces, 9°14’

Sun/Pisces conjunct Saturn/Pisces, 9°46’

This is the Superior Conjunction between Mercury and the Sun, marking the halfway point between the little planet’s retrograde zones. Add Saturn to the mix, and we go into much more conservative ways of thought, possibly/probably more fear-based. That happens when Saturn lets its imagination run away with it - and when the Sun is too passive to resist (or caught up in the drama of it all).

Friday, March 1 - Sun/Pisces sextile Jupiter/Taurus, 11°24’. Generous, sharing what we have. We feel materially blessed. Can get a little too comfortable and complacent.

Sunday, March 3 - Sun/Pisces opposite Juno Rx/Virgo, 13°38’. A nagging partner? Make sure it isn’t you! Make sure everyone agrees about what constructive criticism is.

Saturday, March 9 - Sun/Pisces sextile Uranus/Taurus, 19°51’. A time to bask gently in our uniqueness, at the same time we celebrate our common humanity.

Sunday, March 10 - New Moon, 20°17’ Pisces. Good for setting Pisces-type intentions, such as making time every day for meditation or prayer. We look for (or run screaming from) the spaciousness within.

Saturday, March 16 - Sun/Pisces square Vesta/Gemini, 26°09’. More indecision; if we don’t feel very confident in our identities, this could find us flailing around a bit.

Sunday, March 17 - Sun/Pisces conjunct Neptune/Pisces, 27°21’. “What a day for a daydream,” as the Lovin’ Spoonful sang. Perfect for meditation and prayer (we may not have much choice about it), visualization, and flowing.

#Astrology #Transiting Sun enters Pisces #Ms M astrologer

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growwithmeastrology · 23 days

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Tuesday, April 2nd 2024 Sun in Aries♈️🔥Moon in Capricorn ♑️🌍

Mercury went retrograde last night so if you’ve been having conversations where you feel you’ve been misunderstood or you didn’t get the message through, do a bit of analyzing and try again today. I know it’s made out to be a big deal but we experience this retrograde 3-4 times a year. And we all experience it differently. Just remember that it’s about little nuisances and delays more than really big issues. Think through things really well so they don’t turn into big issues. As for this girl, this retrograde sits square to my natal Mercury so brain fog is real. I may just be listing transits for a little while.

The Moon in Capricorn squares Chiron and the North Node in Aries. This can bring up feelings of sensitivity. You may feel vulnerable as this tends to bring up triggers from past experiences. These are meant to be felt and cleared so you can process and leave them behind. Try not to blame your mother for everything today.

The Moon trines Jupiter and Uranus in Taurus which can help us with expression so we can share our feelings and bring positive change and excitement into our lives. These two are helping counterbalance the effects of Mercury retrograde.

Venus and Neptune are conjunct in Pisces which has a high potential for a new romance. It can otherwise increase compassion in relationships or heighten spiritual bonding. If you’re in a negative relationship, this can cause some feelings of disappointment. Use this energy today as a gauge for the type of relationships you’re in or getting yourself into.

Clear and intentional communication is key for today. Happy Tuesday! Just get out there and do your best!

If you enjoy my daily forecasts please like, comment, share and consider a gratitude tip in support. 🅿️ PayPal, Venmo or CashApp - @NaliniFlor

Learn more about your personal energies and how the daily forecast affects you! Comment below⬇️ get or DM me for a consultation.

#astrology #growwithme #zodiac #horoscope #daily energies #daily horoscope #mundane astrology #mercury retrograde #mercury in aries #aries season #capricorn moon #eclipse season

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aitadjcrazytimes · 4 months

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Hi, I saw your tags:

I was wondering. Um. Would you be comfortable sharing what other symptoms you have?

I've had memory problems for years but every time I look them up I just get stuff like alzheimers and car crashes and stuff, which doesnt apply. Idk

I was wondering if this might be me also. I'll talk to a doctor, of course, but. Just wondering what the general vibe is

Sure! Though, be aware, if you Can get evaluated for your symptoms you probably should, at least to make sure it isn't degenerative.

Via-a-vis the ABI (That's Acquired Brain Injury), part of the reason it took so long to diagnose is because

I already have a different diagnosis of cEDS (Classical Ehlers Danlos Syndrome) that explained several of my other symptoms

I have GAD and PTSD due to living in a very abusive and dangerous environment up until about 5 months ago, and

At least two of my family members are autistic, so it was just kind of vaguely assumed that any weirdness regarding my sensory processing and so on was because of that.

So! To summarize (and I put this below a cut because it gets Long).

Chiari Malformation is when you have a defect in the base of your skull that puts pressure on your cerebellum, causing part of it to go into your spinal column. Many people with this condition don't experience any symptoms, but that is not always the case, and even with no symptoms, it does place you at a much higher risk for a brain injury. With a Chiari Malformation, even a mild concussion can cause serious damage.

I have had several concussions, with one of them knocking me out for several minutes when I was very young. So. Here we are.

Regarding treatments for Chiari, most of what can be done is simply treating the symptoms. Unless there is concern about the condition getting worse (more memory loss, paralysis, etc.), patients will likely be referred elsewhere to discuss pain management, because from my understanding, the only effective treatment for Chiari is a decompression surgery, which will remove part of your skull to take pressure off the brain. It's not terribly risky as brain surgeries go, but the best brain surgery is, of course, no brain surgery.

Re my Physical symptoms:

I get headaches very frequently, and often very severely. They have been categorized as migraines in the past, because they come with severe light and sound sensitivity, and they tend to knock me out for hours. That said, they don't meet all the criteria for a migraine, including having no aura to speak of. They are often triggered by strain and jostling my head--by coughing, sneezing, vomiting, jumping, or anything that would cause motion sickness.

I have poor balance. I have found that walking with a cane helps, but physical therapy doesn't do all that much (because it's in my brain and not my muscles).

I also struggle with chronic fatigue. Getting out of bed is a real struggle most days, as is getting anything done outside of simply going to work and then coming home--although I recently went on an antidepressant, which has helped a bit.

Insomnia! I have trouble sleeping. It comes and goes, sometimes I get several days worth of restful sleep, but sometimes I get only a few hours worth of sleep over the course of a week.

Shooting and burning pain in back of skull, neck, spine, shoulders, and chest. Be careful with this one, because this can also be a result of a heart issue. That said, I've had my heart checked out, and that's all good, which is why they checked the brain in the first place.

As for my cognitive symptoms, it's a bit fuzzier, because like I said before, I have PTSD, I have the ABI, I have GAD, several of my family members are somewhere on the autism spectrum, and now my therapist is also having me evaluated for OSDD. So, your mileage may vary. But essentially:

Memory loss. Some of it is retrograde, and I have found that I'll forget significant events and people. Most of it is anterograde, or short term--so, forgetting what a conversation is about while I'm in the middle of a sentence, and either having to improvise and try to make a guess as to what I was talking about, or having to have my conversation partner walk back what we were talking about to explain what we were doing. I have to have a very detailed and elaborate task tracker at work in order to stay on top of things, or I would simply forget it all. I also have the experience of feeling like all of my memories are stories that were told to me. So, I rarely experience a memory as a thing that happened to me, complete with sights and sounds and feelings and sensations and so on, but more like a story that someone told to me once. So, a vague recollection of events and the order in which they happened. This makes it difficult to differentiate between my own memories and stories that other people have told me. It has happened a few times that I have told a story of something that happened to me, only to find out that it actually happened to the person I was talking to instead, and I just got confused.

I'm not sure what to call this one, but I get EXTREMELY easily distracted from processing audio, especially in an environment with more than one thing happening. If I am having a verbal conversation with someone in a restaurant, and someone comes and sits at the table next to us and starts talking, I become almost incapable of conversation. If I'm talking to someone and someone turns on the TV in the next room, I become almost incapable of conversation. If music is playing, I lose track of the conversation. I forget everything I was saying. I won't be able to understand what other people are saying. Spending time in loud, busy, or crowded environments is not that distressing by itself, but I will not be able to hold a conversation.

Aphasia and Verbal Processing. It is incredibly difficult for me to put words together in a way that is coherent. It is significantly easier through writing, because I can look things up and take my time with it. But in vocal conversation, I will frequently have verbal shutdowns where I cannot find a word, and all of my language processing shuts down while I try to comprehend what I was talking about. This often leads to...

Fuzziness/Blurriness. I typically call this "going fuzzy". Generally it involves a verbal shutdown to an extent, where my brain has reached capacity with processing information, and is deciding to simply wipe everything and start over. Think of it like restarting a really old computer. Sometimes it doesn't take too terribly long--a few moments. Sometimes it takes more than half an hour. It depends. This is often accompanied by...

The Buzzing™--It happens for me at the base of the skull, where the injury is. It feels like a tuning fork fused to the inside of my skull. It is completely maddening. My ears ring, and it sounds like a high pitched whining noise. I become very on edge, it's incredibly anxiety inducing, and very overwhelming. I don't know if this is a common symptom you will be able to find under brain injuries, but it's Extremely not fun! I have found that it can be lessened somewhat with massaging the area.

The Voices™: I have heard voices ever since I was a kid. (Schizophrenia has already been ruled out.) Sometimes, it Is an actual auditory hallucination. I recently had an experience where I was grocery shopping and kept flinching because it sounded like someone was shouting my name directly into my ear. Other times, I've heard people whispering or knocking on my walls. These typically occur during or following a stressful situation. HOWEVER, I also experience The Voices™ in my daily life outside of stressful situations. In these situations, it is never auditory, more just a thing that occurs in my own head. I have, in the past, had the experience of talking more or less constantly to one or several distinct people in my head. Nowadays, it feels more like experiencing multiple trains of thought or multiple sets of emotions which feel distinct from "mine". Or feeling like a background voice in my head while someone else does things for me.

Per my therapist, I have recently begun categorizing them as different people to see if that helps. And it does sometimes! And sometimes it does not. It is a process. But that's where I am with that.

There's more to it, but I don't really have the capacity to talk about it much more than I have at the moment.

If you want to see what my experience with this is like... I mean. I did write an entire fanfiction about a character with several of my symptoms recently. You likely won't have the context for what is going on re the character and the situation unless you are into Red vs. Blue, but just in case it helps to see a recounting of it, here:

The Fanfiction That Helped Me Realize I Had Brain Damage™. Have fun!

#ask.txt #also yes i reopened the askbox #im a creature that needs interaction to survive #also. be nice re the fic. i am linking it in case it helps. i am not claiming it to be fine art.#yes it has my rvb blog (made After i wrapped up aitadjcrazytimes) mentioned. if anyone harasses me there i will be very disappointed in you #and probably also close both ask boxes

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a-mag-a-day · 1 year

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i’ve mainly just been lurking for the mag a day thing, but i have so many thoughts about this episode, and i need to share them.

the other day in my psych class, we were learning about the different types of amnesia. in short: there’s two main types, retrograde amnesia and anterograde amnesia. retrograde is the typical “can’t remember anything from before the accident” amnesia, but anterograde amnesia is what really grabbed my attention.

anterograde amnesia is caused by damage to the hippocampus, and makes it so someone cannot form new memories after the accident. someone may have small snippets of short term memory, but the brain cannot transfer those memories into long term storage, meaning after an event is over, they aren’t able to recall it.

anyways, now that that infodump is over, i present to you a heart-wrenching idea: jon gets eye-inflicted anterograde amnesia at upton house.

they wake up and jon asks where they are. martin doesn’t think anything of it, after all they’d just slept for an entire day. but then it keeps happening. they’ll be cuddling in bed, and jon will ask over and over again where they are, why they’re here. why aren’t they in the fearscapes? what happened to the apocalypse? they see salesa, and jon goes to introduce himself and martin to him, before martin stops him with a confused glance. “don’t you remember? we met him just a few days ago.” the amount of time that jon remembers things from keeps decreasing, until jon is completely unable to function, and martin realizes they need to leave. now. before jon starts forgetting things that happened before upton house.

and as they leave, jon is left with no memory of the past week.

anyways hope you enjoyed the idea that kept me up for hours the other night, wishing i was a good enough writer to do it justice </3

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #mag 181 #imjustexistingtbh #mod elian

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camojacketfag · 1 year

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Thoughts on Hunger

After 18 years of knowing I liked men I finally made the decision to fully embrace it and come out to my loved ones. I was very fortunate to have their acceptance at the time, despite their obvious discomforts. I felt that perhaps the shackles I always carried would finally cease and I’d be liberated and absolved from the growing pains inside my stomach. I then spent that whole year hanging out with a plethora of different men for the first time in my life. This was something I learned to be ashamed of as I grew older. The stigma of giving yourself up to strangers caused me to recoil and carry an insurmountable weight of guilt I’ve only just come around to. When I first told my therapist this she said it made sense. 16 year old me had been shown that his body was a possession that was so easily disposed of. The brain therefore finally made the decision to go out and try and reclaim what was once mine. At first I seemed to accept that possibility. The more I ruminated on it however I realized that subliminally it was just a fraction of what I actually was desperately craving at the time. The men I met that year, in time, became a gift in my life. Some were ill, some men suffered from severe addiction, some were older, all were kind. Each distinct and personal and even then, a ghost, far before I’d ever left them behind. That’s what happens when you’re condemned to living in the shadows. I knew that then as I know it now. For us love and pleasure is sought deep within the tight confines of this world. It must be whispered. It must be shown in quiet seclusion for fear of public degradation and humiliation. Among those men I finally found someone I could love. And he loved me back. And it was vibrant and desperate and profusely dramatic as so often our first taste of love is. Soon it ended and I felt heartbreak for the first time. Even still, the gnawing of my stomach never settled long enough. No matter how brutally I worked to reclaim my body, no matter how much time i spent conversing and sharing my mutual experiences with all of them, it still never was satiated enough. So as time passed I embraced it as an immature escapade and learned to live alongside it with deep shame and remorse. Both things I had never felt as I was experiencing the company of those men. Time will often remind you it’s best to leave the past as is and never return. That’s the way my mother raised me as well. Often however, everything in life seems to stupidly contradict itself. I find it incredibly funny that for periods of time throughout the year even the earth “appears” to spin backwards in retrograde. I too believe that life is meant for the present, however, the past always forcefully demands its share and eventually we all must find a way to make peace with it. Lately I’ve allowed myself to finally go back and embrace those memories that plagued me with so much shame. How wonderful it was to be given an opportunity to finally meet other men like myself. How desperately I wish I could’ve thanked them. It was during that year I finally found the right people who still remain in my life and have given me a space in which to grow and heal in. How beautiful it was to feel pleasure for the first time. To feel love and understood and intimate as someone who grew up hearing men like me were condemned to a life of endless misery and suffering. As a result, I finally have come to understand the savage pain in my stomach. I understand it’s driving force. I understand that my actions were more than a reclamation for something that was always mine. All this time It was a deep seated hunger for living. A hunger for experience. A hunger who was equally as desperate to rid me of the shackles I’ve long abandoned now. Those men allowed me to finally consume and heal my growing hunger if only temporarily. Those men were the foundation my brain and body needed to finally be released from its disassociation and live passionately amongst the present. The shame, it seems, has long gone now only leaving me with a feeling of gratitude and fortitude for what’s ahead

#personal #if you read this whole fucking thing… I love you man.#just rambling thoughts as I spend my days alone with my dog

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spidereticas · 4 months

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I was asked if I could share the tracklist for the if someone asks, this is where i'll be playlist, so posting it here!

TRACKLIST: See You Again (feat. Kali Uchis) - Tyler, the Creator ■ Love You More - Buzzcocks ■ Close To You - Frank Ocean ■ This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody) - Talking Heads ■ I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend - Ramones ■ Mona Lisa (Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse) - Dominic Fike ■ No Diggity - Blackstreet ■ Genius of Love - Tom Tom Club ■ Jam - Bad Brains ■ Link Up - Metro Boomin & Don Toliver, Wizkid, BEAM, Toian ■ Hit Me Up - Omar Apollo, Dominic Fike, Kenny Beats ■ Mbilo Mbilo - Eddy Kenzo ■ You and I - Toro y Moi ■ Retrograde - James Blake ■ Time Will Tell - Blood Orange

#as with my previous fic playlist please know that this is (1) specific to the fic and (2) 100% based on vibes tbh #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #punkflower #flowerpunk #playlists #my fic #isa #(trying out another fic acronym lmao)

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xhusu · 1 year

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Analysis of the Rock Scene: idealisation and realisation

AN: This is a purely personal point of view on this scene and on the characterisation of both Jellal and Erza. That is how I personally analyse them and, thus, comprehend this scene. I don’t see myself as an expert on those matters. I’m curious to hear your thoughts!

It is in chapter 264: Only the Amount of Time Lost that the rock scene happens. The title itself guides us to an important thought on the matter. Erza and Jellal’s relationship is built on crossing paths and losing time. Fate is hard on them and the most time they spent together was as child slaves. It is unknown when they met exactly. In canon, we only know that Erza was banished at the age of 11 – I personally believe that they shared the same age; ergo, Jellal was 11 too.

We can suppose that the two children spent some years together at the time – my personal headcanon is two years as Erza arrived around the age of 9, this age was deduced by Mashima’s style when he draws children. When Erza saved Kagura who is 3 years younger than her, her appearance was similar to Sho and Millianna’s during the revolt, and the children were 9. It also coincides with Kagura’s ability to survive on her own at a young age, as she would have been 6. That is already quite young and unrealistic (I do not take August into account in this thought even if the man survived on his own since he was a mere infant).

Two years as children against eight where she was banished and pressured. They met sometime during those eight years at the Council while he was under the persona of Siegrain – it is said that she even attacked him at first, before believing the lie that he was Jellal’s twin. This is another important piece of information. It supposes that this lie was believable because she had no way to know if it was the truth or not. Therefore, Jellal never talked about his family before his enslavement to Erza – an important detail, that we will come back to later.

Of course, they meet in person, as themselves again, during the Tower of Heaven arc, the Nirvana arc and finally in this scene. Death is always the reason for their partings. In the ToH arc, Jellal fuses with Etherion and it is believed that he died doing so. In the Nirvana arc, he is arrested and it is stated that he will either have a life sentence or the death penalty. While I always thought that his sentence was open to interpretation, it is said in chapter 263 that he was indeed sentenced to death.

As I said, fate does not work on their side. Most of their relationship was built as children, from 9 to 11. Yet, during the rock scene, Erza is 19 and Jellal is 26. It had been 8 years for her, 15 for him.

The scene begins with a shot of a turtle passing by and complete silence. Erza is the one to speak first, asking about his memories. Jellal had retrograde and episodic amnesia. Retrograde amnesia means that he was unable to access his memories before the incident – here, his fusion with Etherion. Episodic amnesia means that he had access to his knowledge (semantic memory), but not his memories (episodic memory). We can suppose that the cause was damage to areas of his brain that are vital for memory processing, damage due to his fusion. Nonetheless, amnesia is a very traumatic experience. He started to regain his memory 6 years ago in prison (chapter 263), it supposes that it was a long process which is realistic. We actually tend to retrieve the oldest memories first rather than the recent ones. That is a sad concept, meaning that Jellal remembered his time as a slave in prison before his time as a “free” man, controlled and brainwashed by Ultear really (chapter 263; chapter 102)

The first question Erza asks when it comes to his memories is a question about Simon. To which he bluntly answers “I killed him” after a short pause. Followed by that, Erza avoids the subject and asks about Nirvana, to which Jellal answers that he also remembers all of that – “I remember it… as if it were a self I had forgotten. It is a strange feeling”. While the translation may be a little clumsy, the idea of a forgotten self is very important. Whose self is Jellal talking about? Erza get it right away as she asks “So I can think of you as your old self?” Jellal’s child self is the Jellal Erza knows the most, she spent more time with him than any other version of the man. He is the Jellal she misses the most and always did, since her banishment. But Jellal here associates this self with a forgotten entity. To Jellal, his child self is someone he no longer is, someone who disappeared years ago in the torture room when Zeref’s ghost, Ultear really, brainwashed him. The brainwashing was the disappearance of the Jellal Erza still misses. This Jellal does not exist anymore.

Nonetheless, Jellal confesses that her seeing him as his old self would make him happy. He knows that this person does not exist anymore, but he too misses how things were, how Erza was with him back then, that is what would make him happy.

Yet he adds that he would “understand if she wanted to keep her distance from him” after all that happened because to him it is the normal reaction. To avoid getting hurt, you avoid the source of the pain. Jellal is someone who does that all the time, he is a person who prefers to avoid people rather than hurt them – he does not give them the free will to avoid him or not, he is the one making the choice for them.

This comment is followed by silence. Erza is looking at him but he is looking at the ground. Not even once in this scene, Jellal will look at Erza. He is either looking at the ground or looking away. We turn our eyes to where our body wants to go and what our minds want to engage with, Jellal does not want to have this conversation but it is a needed one and he knows that. The last time they talked on a deep level was 15 years ago as children. It is also a way for him to ignore her presence, he is speaking on an emotional level, letting out things he never said. Looking away is a way to continue speaking without feeling overwhelmed, and Jellal is overwhelmed because it is the first time, he is talking to her about the core of his emotions.

He is sitting down and she is standing. He is avoiding eye contact and she is looking at him. She is the one asking the questions. Here Erza is dominating the discussion. Jellal put himself in the position of submission and demonstrates that he is defenceless. This is directly linked to what he says next.

While Erza is here to talk, Jellal came to let her take his life. It is also why he is so open to talk when he obviously does not want to. For him, it could be his last words. Though, we may wonder why Jellal believes in the first place that Erza would want to take revenge. Jellal went through one year of imprisonment where he was treated like the worst thing on Earth, starved and tortured for others’ fun. He internalised the fact that he deserves everything he went through. What he wants was never considered, not even once in his life. He was a child slave with no free will, he got controlled and fooled by someone he believed to be his friend, he was forced to live by Erza and he got taken out of prison by Ultear against his will. Here, Jellal believes that everyone hates him to some extent, and I would not be surprised if he believed that even Ultear does – as his existence is a reminder of what she did, increasing her guilt every time she sees him. Why would Erza be different? She told him to live with the guilt during the Nirvana arc, forcing him to live to pay for what he did. To him, Erza still resents what he did and he has every reason to believe so. After all, even if Ultear declared that she was the one who controlled him, Erza did not contradict him when he said that he killed Simon earlier.

Those are two important beliefs that Jellal internalised, one: everyone hates him to some extent, two: the only way to fix it is to let them take revenge (beating, starving, killing, etc…)

Erza then asks if he thinks that is what Simon would that. And Jellal does not answer. Truly, he cannot. As children, Simon was jealous of him because Erza loved him, and as adults, he ruined the man’s life by keeping him on this cursed island and finally killing him. In canon, we never see any positive interaction between Jellal and Simon. So why would Jellal believe that Simon would be different? Why would Simon be the only one who would not want to kill him?

Here, Erza points Jellal’s accomplishment: he created Crime Sorcière with Ultear and Meredy. I never liked how this scene make it sounds like it was only Jellal’s idea as I truly believe that it really was the three of them’s (and chapter 263 supports me on that). Crime Sorcière – at that point – had no guild master, they never needed one as they were only three. Though, here Erza believes that they set up this guild to right their wrongs. It is not exactly the case. Indeed, it is a key element of their work but as it was said in chapter 263:

Crime Soricère’s goal is to destroy Zeref’s heritage. Dark guilds, R-Systems, and even Eclipse as we learn later, all come from Zeref. Zeref never intended to create those things with obscure intents, it is quite the opposite; he only wanted to bring back the little brother he lost. But to Jellal, Ultear and Meredy, all they know is that Zeref created all of that, and that people are blinded by what he represents to them. The world sees Zeref as a dark mage with vile intentions while it was never true. The cultists from the R-System along with Grimoire Heart are proof of what Zeref’s heritage can do. That is what Crime Soricière is seeking, they want to put an end to it all. Sadly, it is quite an optimistic and unrealisable goal – pure and brave – but unreachable. They can do their best of course, but Jellal is unhealthily fixated on that because that is what keeps him going, it became his sole reason to exist but this dream is obviously quite childish (again, we’ll come back to this).

The darkness Jellal is speaking of is not really darkness. By darkness, he means hatred, indoctrination, brainwashing, selfishness, and everything people can go through that makes them do wrong. The lack of supervision, or help, when someone is so low in life. Ultear was desperate and felt abandoned, Meredy got indoctrinated by Ultear, and Jellal felt so alone, scared, and powerless that his hatred became an opening for Ultear to brainwash him – all of that could have been avoided if there was someone, just one person for them. The world is cruel, but we can help one another. It is in the darkness that we become the worst of ourselves, just like in real life. That is what darkness means here. In some way, darkness just means the bad side of humankind, and everyone can fall into this darkness.

Their cause is way more complex than what is just said. Of course, by trying all of that, helping people as they can, they do better and ‘repent’ but they never chose to do so just for that – at least Jellal never did. Because Jellal truly believes that he is irredeemable – there is not even one trace of selfishness in his actions, he is not doing it to repent, he’s doing it so no one ends up like him.

And he speaks his mind, he does not know anymore. At first, he did it to feel better because he was eaten by guilt and felt like he selfishly fled his redemption – his death sentence. And the more he tries, the more he understands that in fact, it is not helping. He does not feel like it is because he still feels miserable. After her sacrifice, Ultear is finally at peace, but Jellal does not even feel like he’s getting close to this peace. He keeps ruminating on the past, on actions he committed in an illusion of free will. Why isn’t it working after 6 years? What is wrong with me? The reason is simple for that. Jellal is a victim, he never was truly guilty of everything that happened in the ToH. If anything, Jellal is quite the scapegoat everyone needs. It is easier to blame one person than ourselves. And that is what everyone does. They are blaming Jellal, who was an 11 child at the time, who went through days – maybe a week or so – of torture. Anyone would have lost their mind but the boy kept fighting as he could, he never would have done what he did if it was not for Ultear’s brainwashing and control. The proof of his innocence is evident when we learn that the first thing he did once freed from Ultear was fuse with Etherion, giving his life to save Erza, their old friends, and her new friends he did not even know. Jellal will never be able to make up for his crimes because there are no crimes he needs to make up for.

But back then, no one knew about Ultear, and people blamed him. And like I said earlier, he internalised all of it, he believes that the world hates him and that he deserves this hatred. “If you are prone to blame yourself, you leave yourself open for manipulation” (Jonathan Decker), by hating himself, Jellal is prone to believe everything people say. And what people say to him is that he should just die.

This is the closest to Jellal’s heart we ever were and ever will be. Here he states his questionings, his pains and most importantly his suicidal thoughts. As we said before, as a child Jellal did not even speak about his family prior to his enslavement, so it is simple to imagine that he would not speak about his fears and pains. There are only two instances where he spoke this way. First, when he lied to Erza right before the Etherion blast, telling her that he was possessed by Zeref’s ghost – it was a lie (based on truth, as the best lies need to be somewhat true); second, right before his arrestation, as he confessed to Erza that he was scared of what would ensue.

Here, Jellal is the most honest and fragile he can be. He let out a pressure he has on his shoulders. He is lost, he is still the same as he was right after Nirvana – even after recollecting his memories. What will happen? What is he supposed to do? He has no idea, his dream is impersonal, and he is doing it for others, but as I said, this goal is also unreachable. No matter how hard he tries, it will never be enough. Because he cannot change the world alone. There is no catharsis possible here.

And since his childhood, the only thing seemingly reserved for him was death. Zeref’s ghost was a skull, to save Erza he had to sacrifice himself, everyone wants him dead since the ToH and that has not changed. At some point, he starts to believe it – because he is completely open to manipulation, and because if there is a thing, he hates more than darkness, it is himself.

When he lied to her back at the ToH, Erza shared his pain and hugged him. When he confessed his fear after defeating the Oracion Seis, Erza comforted him and promised to always be there for him. And when he finally tells her how he truly feels…

Jellal internalised two beliefs. One: that everyone hates him to some extent. Two: that the only way to fix it is through revenge. And once again, those two beliefs are solidified in his mind, but this time by the person he trusts and loves the most.

That is why it is the last time Jellal will be that honest and fragile, because right when he opens his heart, he is met with violence once more. You can clearly see how shocked he is. And quickly, his face changes. He accepts it, he even understands it, and probably he thinks “I deserve it.”

To Erza, it is not as deep as that. Truly, I believe that hearing him say all of this scares her. Because she believed that she would never see him, that he would die – and when fate, for once in their whole life, gives them the chance to meet again and reconcile, it is him that brings up the topic and states that even in the most peaceful moment, death is lurking. Erza too had suicidal tendencies, it happened during ToH as she was ready to sacrifice herself. But she learned from that and understood that “You don’t die for your friends, you live for them.” It was her new motto and she was categoric about this.

“Cowardly tripe” is a hard way to put it. Is suicide the easy way out? Is it really something only the weak do? But then again, the word “coward” is more than important. To Erza, deciding to die rather than fight is a cowardly act.

It is important to remember that even if all the events of ToH, Nirvana and now this, are happening the same year for Erza; for Jellal, it had been 7 years. Erza sees him not trying enough, while Jellal is just giving it up as he already fought alone for 6 years. But they do not even put it into perspective, they do not understand that there is an important missing point here. Because they are both overwhelmed.

He knows that she felt the same at some point – because of him. And that is why he defensively says “I’m not as strong as you!,” he isn’t even looking at her – he resembles a child getting lectured. As he wants to add something, “I am…” she cuts him off, continuing her tirade with a sudden movement that looks like she is ready to slap him once more.

“To fight to live one that is strength”, of course, it is. But Erza is off-topic. She is not talking to someone refusing a fight, she is talking to someone who is losing the fight, who fought for 6 years and is getting tired. And Jellal is not fighting anyone, Jellal is fighting suicidal thoughts and depression. When Erza had the same thoughts, she was stopped without violence, with cries and Natsu begging her to never do the same, she saw how important she was to others and she kept them close, she continued to be proved that everything was worth fighting for.

Jellal here is met by violence and screams, he is again held accountable. She does not try to understand the whys as it would be too scary and painful to her, as it would recall what she moved on to. Jellal is truly alone, he is surrounded by only two people, one of whom ruined his life. The world is against him. While Erza would have become a mage saint if she had died, Jellal’s death would be cheered on. She is actually projecting her fears on him, trying to help him the way she should have been helped – but it cannot work because even if the thoughts are the same, the reasons are nothing alike.

And here we arrive at the reason why I did this post and why I choose this title. Because like I said earlier, the Jellal Erza knows the most is the boy he used to be, and he is the one she misses. By saying “You aren’t the Jellal I used to know” she is holding him accountable for his disappearance, for this change, as if Jellal wasn’t going to change with time. Everyone lost something during those 7 years: reputation, titles, or just mere time. For Lucy, it is her father and for Erza, it is the Jellal she used to know. And it is difficult, even if Jellal is still alive, he is not whom he used to be. Erza need to grieve the little boy she once knew; she has every right to. But she cannot except Jellal to be the same as he used to be, it is impossible but most importantly, it is not fair.

“That Jellal was always doing his utmost to live” is also a powerful statement. Because it is not entirely true and that’s where Erza is biased. Erza refuses to hear Jellal having suicidal thoughts, she refuses to accept that he is weaker than her because she sees in him the idealised version of the boy he was.

To understand that, we need to go back to their childhood. Erza and the others were the scared kids while Jellal was not. He was the leader of the group, the one who would comfort and stand for them, ready to get punished for their sake. And they all admired him for that. He had this image of a protector, of a safe person they could fully trust, and he needed to keep this image because if he were to break it, it would also break their hopes and dreams. They kept going because of him, he is the one who gave Erza the strength to try to escape, who told her to not be scared. He is the one who stood for Sho while the boy was whimpering. And finally, he is the one who went for Erza when she was in danger and told her to fight because there was no other way to live.

The imagery of “fighting to live” comes directly from him and that is the reason why she cannot stand seeing him give up so easily. But Jellal was not whom they believed he was. Jellal was an 11-year-old boy, a mere child who could not let them see his weaknesses and flaws because it would break them. Jellal was scared but because of this image he built himself, he had no one to comfort him. And that self-destructive behaviour is what led to his doom.

In chapter 98, the truth is told. If Ultear brainwashed and controlled him so easily, it is because torture really did break him – he was scared and hurting, and no one came for him. The reason why Jellal ended up with his life ruined is that he desperately needed someone in dire times, and this someone had vile intent. Again, this is the darkness we talked about earlier. Nonetheless, all of that means one thing: Jellal has always been scared. He jolted and cried as he saw Erza’s mangled face, and he trembled when he was alone in the punishment room.

Jellal’s self-righteousness is what kept him going as a slave, he felt needed and useful – he had a goal of his own. Serving people while never being served, because of the image he built, is what made him who he was. But at the end of the day, Jellal needed to be helped, yet he had no one who could. He never spoke about his life prior his enslavement, he never talked about his emotions, he built himself his own armour – as a protector. Because as a protector, he needed to be strong, and that was his reason to not give up. Erza and the others were his strength and he cherished them so much that he could put himself in danger for them. Loving someone is putting their needs before our own, but putting their needs instead our own is unhealthy – but that is how the boy he used to be lived.

Jellal never was as strong as Erza thought he was. She only knew what he let her see, the image he built, the image of this strong and brave protector he deeply was not. Because he was a mere boy who just found a wicked way to keep going, to survive.

Of course, Jellal is not who he used to be. But he today is closer to who really was rather than this false image he gave them, and that is why Erza saying that Jellal is not the same hurt. Because he is not the same, but he’s not so far. “That Jellal was always doing his utmost to live” is true, but Jellal was not doing this for himself, he was doing that for them all. And he was ready to give his life for them (taking Sho’s and Erza’s place). Yet today, Millianna, Sho and Wally hate him, Simon is dead because of him, and Erza hit him as she understands that the boy she loves is in fact dead – or more precisely, that he never really existed.

And Jellal tells her: “You may be right.” Because it is the truth, he is not the boy she knew, because this boy was an illusion he entirely created. This boy was an idealised version of who he really was.

But the pain is too strong, the grief is clearly there. It is the death of the boy she held dear, and realisation struck. Again, her response to this is violence. She takes him by the collar, she swears, and he closes his eyes – ready to be hit. He never was going to defend himself, as he said earlier, but he finally reaches for her as they fall – to protect her.

Interestingly enough, Erza is part of the main cast which means that this chapter is focusing on her relationship with Jellal and not the other way around. And we can actually see it here, Jellal’s face is seen as a point of view, we are seeing him through Erza’s eyes. That is why the next panel isn’t what Jellal sees but Erza’s reaction.

Finally, Erza does not see the boy she used to know, this idealised version of an abused child. She realises what he truly is, the man he became. She must mourn the kid and accept the man so she can finally love him freely. “If you chose to love somebody, you’re choosing to love a different version every day, every month, every year. Because if you just love the original – you’re in love with somebody that doesn’t exist anymore” (Jonathan Decker), this quote works perfectly for Erza in this case. She cannot keep seeking someone Jellal no longer is.

The tenderness of Jellal’s words, the realisation of the hurting man he has become, and the softness of his actions are what calms her. Jellal believes that Erza is always right because he has always followed her lead since Nirvana. He accepted his sentence because of her, “live with the guilt” is something he still does to this day – he is just getting exhausted by such a mission. But Erza knows she is not, her behaviour from earlier proves it, so she explains herself. “I know I’m clumsy” is such an important detail to what she says. She did not apologize but she acknowledges that her behaviour is not the best. Apologizing should have been done though, as no matter the gender, you do not hit your friend – especially when they are sharing their suicidal thoughts.

“I live as strong as I can” is such an Erza line. Erza is a strong woman, an incredible warrior, but she meets times where she feels fragile and weak, where she cries and trembles. And that is what makes her human. She’s just trying her best and never giving up, and she just wishes he could do the same. Actually, Erza doesn’t see herself as that strong, she knows her own flaws and weakness, which is why she stated earlier that we don’t need to be strong to live – she believes to be the perfect example of that.

And he gets it. Because even if he is giving up, he fought for years alone. Yet now, he is not alone anymore. She is there, once again, and she forgave him.

When she says “I thought I’d never see you again” she finally breaks. That is why hearing his suicidal thoughts are so difficult for her. Because she never wanted to lose him, it is fate that kept taking him away from her. For him to say such things, means that death is now something he could bring to himself – while before, it was always against their will. Truly, Erza wants him to live, as selfish as it is, because she wants him by her side. Nothing more.

And he looks at her. He listens and understands. For 6 years, he believed her to be dead. “You don’t die for your friend; you live for them” but how can you if they are either dead or hates you? But now, they are together and he has no other excuses.

Seeing her crying and trembling is something he hates. Because she is crying because of him, again. It is why Natsu held such a grudge against him for so long. But this time, those tears are different, almost relieved. He probably does not understand it, and probably feels guilty just for seeing them. But Erza is not crying because he hurts her, she’s crying because he could have died – and she understands how lucky she is to have him here.

Erza is the one reaching for the kiss. She needs it. First, she touches him, then she approaches their faces. And he follows her lead because he loves her, because it is what he wants, and because she is crying and needs comfort.

Those two pages are beautiful. We see how they both evolved and grew, from childhood friends to enemies, from enemies to friends, and finally from friends to lovers. We see their struggles, their pains, everything they went through, yet here they are – still alive, safe and sound. As said before, this chapter is from Erza’s point of view, those are her thoughts. She is reminiscing everything and accepting little by little that the Jellal she knew has changed into the man she is about to kiss. He is not a stranger, but he is not a boy anymore. Here is her grieving whom he was and accepting who he is. And it is an important step to start loving him fully.

But Jellal cannot. There are too many reasons why he cannot. He does not see himself as deserving, he just made her angry and cry, he despises himself and wouldn’t want to taint her – she walks in the light, and he walks in the darkness. He came here to let her take her revenge, not kiss her. In kissing her he would find pleasure, and he believes that he does not deserve this.

That is when he lies. A childish lie; because Jellal still has an innocent side in him. He is not his child self anymore, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t childish anymore. It is quite the opposite. His dream is childish: impersonal and unreachable, too optimistic. His vision of the world is simple: darkness and light, black and white. And finally: he lies like a child.

He looks to the side, he blushes, he sweats and trembles. His lie is ridiculous, out of nowhere and unbelievable. Who would get engaged as a criminal? And to whom? Jellal lies like a child, horribly bad.

They are both quite a mess. It is at this moment that Erza acknowledges that 7 years have passed. And then she looks at him and sees who he truly is. And gentle man, quite childish, quite shy, yet so brave and devoted. And she smiles oh so tenderly at him because she realises that she does not have to love who he used to be, there is plenty to love here.

When she asks this question, she is talking about herself and he knows it. He stutters as he thought she would have a different reaction – closer to the one from earlier, but he receives finally what he truly needs: warmth.

Finally, “then you must live on for that person’s sake” only includes her. If you cannot live for the others, live for me. If you will not do it for yourself, do it for me. Erza finally says the word he needed to hear. And his face, his soft expression says it all, he still is not looking at her as it is too difficult for him, but he smiles. The first and only smile he gives her in this scene.

To finish, I’ll talk about this page. It empathises with the fact that Erza knows that the fiancée thing is a lie.

And another important detail is “He’s always been a bad liar. At least, that part hasn’t changed.” As I said earlier Erza is grieving the old Jellal. We see her sigh and think “at least,” meaning that it is a comfort for her, she needed him to keep something from how he was, she needs to have something to hold on to, a familiarity in this man. And his behaviour, his horrible way of lying and his shy posture, reminded her of Jellal’s child self. We know that he never told her about his family because she believed in the Siegrain lie; if he had tried to lie about it back then, she would have known. This tells us a piece of sweet information about how things were for them back then, Jellal did try to lie to her as a child, but it never was about important things – if it was important, he would either say it or say nothing at all.

“It’s better this way. This is our answer.” Often, I see people taking those two sentences as Erza accepting their relationship status: nothing yet. But after all we have said, I believe it to be different. “It’s better this way”: Jellal being different from the idealised version of him she had. “This is our answer”: but we still love each other nonetheless.

#long post #fairy tail #jerza #erza scarlet #jellal fernandes #chapter analysis

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