#but i just reminded myself that ill go back in to add texture and more detail at the end once i have a clean surface

[transthatfag]

theyre doing a sick cover of the winner takes it all

#art #digital art #my art 🦷 #digital painting #i spent 4 days on this but it was fun :) #i tried to force myself to take my time with this to get all the deatils done to my best ability #once i got to the refining stage i got scared and almost abandoned the piece cause it was looking a lil flat #but i just reminded myself that ill go back in to add texture and more detail at the end once i have a clean surface #overall im reaaally happy with how rayna came out #i think this is the most detailed piece of her ive made so far and i plan on making more soon #im mainly just sad about the background cause it just didnt turn out how i wanted it to but its eh #oh well :/ #ill keep working on that eventaully #oh yeah and I made this in krita btw #enjoying that program a lot :) #rayna 👁

[nhl-stories]

Serotonin – Cale Makar

Summary: Cale is just helping out a friend of a friend in a tough place, he ends up in deeper than he ever imagined.

Author’s Note: Warnings for mentions of substance abuse, suicide attempts, and mental illness. If you're feeling suicidal, please reach out, you can find some resources here

Word Count: 3.8 k

Album Series Masterlist

I get intrusive thoughts Like burning my hair off Like hurting somebody I love

Cale didn’t know what to expect; he was picturing the hospital from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, which he watched in a college psychology class, and pulling into the parking lot mostly shoots down that theory.

He wipes his palms on his jeans before getting out of the car, grabbing the backpack he was sent to bring.

The building is old and imposing in the way most hospitals are, someone should probably change that, he thinks as he enters the lobby.

The inside is a little warmer and brighter, but he’s immediately met with front desk behind glass and a door he has to be buzzed through to enter, so any comforting vibes are quickly swept away.

“How can I help you,” the nurse has a syrupy sweet voice.

“I’m here to see Morgan Lee, I brought some stuff for them,” Cale holds up the backpack.

“Great, if you can fill out this form,” she opens a door in the window and slides out a clipboard, “and we’ll need to check the bag before you see the patient.”

Cale opens his mouth, not sure if he wants to protest calling Morgan ‘the patient’ or searching the bag.

“It’s just protocol sweetie, we do it for everyone.”

Cale hates being called sweetie.

The bag search takes forever, they go through every pocket, then keep the backpack and hand Cale a box full of its contents before leading him to Morgan’s room.

The facility seems nice, it’s not filled with zombies in matching gowns being handed medication; in fact, it kind of reminds him of a college dorm.

“Morgan, you have a visitor,” the nurse opens the door and calls in before waving Cale in, “you can stay until dinner time, and I’m gonna leave the door open.”

“Oooh open door, Cale you must seem like trouble,” Morgan smiles from the bed.

They’re wearing a hospital gown with a scratchy looking robe over top, those surgery socks with the textured bottoms on their feet. Cale can’t stop staring at the bright green cast on their right arm.

He doesn’t want to stare, make Morgan feel weird, but the situation is weird. He drops the box at the end of the bed.

“I think they’re keeping your backpack,” he lamely adds.

“I told you to put it all in a box,” they start digging through the contents, “you can’t hang yourself with a box.”

There’s a quick intake of air, he doesn’t realize it’s his own until Morgan looks at him with a sad look.

“Sorry, too soon for suicide jokes?”

Cale looks down at his feet, he can feel his cheeks turning pinker than normal. He wants to be a good visitor, not make Morgan walk on eggshells around his own comfort zone.

“I graduated from hospital fashion, so that’s a good sign,” they find a baggy DU sweatshirt and start to change, standing up from the bed and shimmying on a pair of sweats, they look happier and healthier already.

“How long are you gonna be in here?” It’s not the best first question, but anything is better than Cale standing in awkward silence.

“They think 15 more days, depending. I’m mostly through the worst of the withdrawals so it’s all about whether I’m a threat to myself and others.”

Morgan pulls the chair closer to the bed and gestures for Cale to take it before hopping back on the bed, “then it’s all outpatient service.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

“The thing about people with functioning drug and alcohol problems, is you don’t usually know they have a serious problem. It’s kind of the goal.”

Cale can’t believe this is the same person who called him crying a day ago.

“Besides we’re like really, really good acquaintances at best. If you were the first person to figure it out…” Morgan let’s out a heavy sigh, “I don’t know, it doesn’t matter now. I’m here and not being scraped off a sidewalk.”

“Still, sorry it had to get this far.”

Morgan shrugs, “so tell me what’s new with you, how’s the team? Reading any new books? Or any good Costco deals?”

Cale is happy to prattle on, he likes talking to Morgan. They always seemed engaged with whatever he’s saying, even if it’s mundane.

Their friendship is quite new, only really blossoming in the past year when they learned they lived in the same neighborhood. Cale wouldn’t say they were that close, but in the short time Morgan has always taken his book recommendations, happily sharing their thoughts afterwards, sharing their own reads back. They even seem genuinely interested in whatever he found at Costco.

Because he enjoys Morgan’s company so much, it makes him feel a little worse that he didn’t notice anything was wrong. Sitting in a psychiatric hospital for a visit makes him think there must have been red flags he missed.

Eventually the nurse pops her head back in, “Morgan, dinner is in 10, so you and your guest can wrap it up.”

“Thanks for hanging out,” Morgan gives Cale a playful kick in the thigh.

“No problem, I’ll gladly swing by any time I’m free,” he hopes it’s clear he means it.

“And can you do me a favor? Don’t mention this to Jade or Logan please?”

“Oh,” Cale tries to hide his shock, “you don’t think they’ll notice you’re AWOL?”

“One week in Jade will know what’s up, this has happened a few times...” the words feel like they carry the weight of the world, “But I don’t want them to freak out and worry. They’ll try and make me move in with them again.”

“Yeah, I can keep a secret,” his stomach sloshes uncomfortably, he’s not only terrible at deception, his body seems to have an allergic reaction to it.

|||

Cale first met Morgan through OC and his girlfriend, Jade. Jade had been friends with Morgan since high school and they all attended University of Denver together. Morgan had come to a few games and parties, but nothing really made a lasting impression.

Until they won the Stanley Cup.

Morgan seemed to be at every party, doing an incredible job of keeping up with the boys. In hindsight, maybe that’s a red flag in it of itself.

He doesn’t remember most of it, but he distinctly remembers Jade apologizing for Morgan’s behavior the morning after the parade. Cale can’t recall what exactly what they had done, he has a foggy memory of Morgan being a bit of a ragdoll at one point, but nothing too alarming.

Whatever it was, it was apparently bad enough for the grave expressions OC and Jade gave as they apologized. Probably another red flag.

But Morgan was back, maybe a little more subdued, for the festivities the next day. Cale was a bit too drunk to operate his phone and had asked them to help him order an Uber home, Morgan happily obliged and made a delighted noise when they realized Cale was practically their neighbor.

They shared the car and planted the seeds of their friendship.

Cale didn’t get a chance to visit Morgan in the hospital for five days, but OC did question him.

“Hey Cale, have you seen Mo around your hood recently? Jade hasn’t heard from them and she’s getting a little worried.”

“Uhhh–“ the uncomfortable sloshing returns, “Morgan hasn’t been around, but I talked to them the other day, they seem to be doing well.”

It’s not exactly a lie, more of a lie of omission.

“Oh. Good. I’ll pass that along to Jade. I told her she didn’t need to freak out, but they’ve been friends forever and been through some tough times, so she can’t help it sometimes.”

It feels like Logan knows that Cale knows something, or maybe he’s just talking out his own worries about Morgan. Either way, Cale feels a little sicker about not telling the whole truth; he just hopes it’s not showing on his face.

“I’ll let you know if I hear from Morgan again,” he can at least be mostly honest about that.

“Thank for looking out,” Logan claps him on the shoulder before he leaves.

Cale goes to visit Morgan afterwards; he brings his cribbage board because he thinks Morgan will like having an activity, so neither of them will feel obligated to talk.

“We can go outside to play, I’ve been told I’m not taking advantage of the grounds, so I’ll get brownie points from the staff too.”

They find a table in a sunny patch, “Logan asked about you today.”

“Yeah, I have about 24 hours before Jade talks to my parents and then she’ll be here first thing.”

“It’s nice to have someone who cares that much,” Cale feels like he’s stepping into very heavy territory.

“I’m not really the nicest to the people who care about me when I go into self-destruct mode and it’s harder to face someone who loves you despite the things you’ve said or done in the aftermath.

Their eyes start to water, and Cale feels a little guilty.

“Do you know how to play?” He changes the subject.

“Absolutely no clue.”

“That’s fine, I hear that I’m a good teacher.”

Cale has never seen Morgan smile so wide. He’s always thought they had one of those contagious smiles, but he feels a sense of pride in being the cause of it now.

“I suck at this. Are you sure you’re good teacher?”

“There’s definitely a learning curve, plus I’m basically a pro.”

“Wow, is Cale Makar bragging?”

“Is it bragging if it’s true?” Morgan gives him a shove.

They play one more game and Morgan still sucks, but admits they have fun despite that. They have to call it quits because Morgan has group therapy so they head back to their room.

Cale hands over his cribbage board, “you can borrow this, if you want to practice with someone here.”

“I don’t want to take your board; you have a road trip coming up.”

“Don’t worry I have another one.”

“You own two cribbage boards? I was definitely being hustled.”

Cale chuckles, “I don’t think it’s hustling if there are no stakes.”

“A technicality,” Morgan smirks but takes the board nonetheless.

They awkwardly stand in Morgan’s room, just goofily smiling at each other. Not sure if they want to end their time together, even though they have to.

“Do you want to sign my cast?”

“What?”

“If I have a famous autograph, I’ll be the coolest person in group,” Morgan bites back her smile.

“In that case, sure.”

Morgan finds a marker and hands it over. Cale holds their cast, dangerously close to brushing their fingers while he signs.

“Thanks, I’ll see you after your road trip?”

“Yeah, rematch?”

Morgan gives a thumbs up and a wave as Cale leaves.

|||

“You little rat!”

Cale whips his head over to the voice in the hallway, but feels a punch in his arm before he can identify the voice.

“Cale Makar, I thought you were a nice boy,” Jade comes into focus in the hallway after the game, she’s fuming and Cale wonders if she’s been letting this fester for the whole hockey game.

He can assume what she’s mad about, but he can’t seem to wipe the dumbfounded look off his face as he stares.

“You signed her cast, and you didn’t tell me or Logan where she was? What the actual fuck.”

She punches him a few more times for emphasis.

The other guys trickling out of the locker room can’t help but stare, it’s not a normal occurrence for Cale to get yelled at by anyone.

Logan finally emerges and tries to calm his girlfriend down, or at least stop her from causing a scene.

“She made me promise not tell.”

“Oh, well then that’s okay, people in psychiatric hospitals notably have good judgement.”

Cale winces.

“Jade honey, don’t blame Cale.”

Jade let’s out a huff, like she’s still not sure.

“We should be glad Mo is reaching out to someone, instead of pushing everyone away,” OC reasons.

“Fine, I guess I’ll forgive you,” a small smile begins to form, “you seem to be a good influence, Mo made a friend in the hospital, and they’ve never done that before. And because of cribbage of all things.”

Cale feels his face heat up. He’s been called a good influence dozens of times in his life, but this one makes him feel giddy.

“Keep it up is what I’m saying. You’re in the trenches with us now, especially when Morgan is back in the real world.”

“Yeah of course, I think I graduated from really, really good acquaintance to actual friend.”

Then Jade pulls him into a tight hug, making a full 180 in the span of a single conversation.

|||

Cale comes from home from a road trip and finds Morgan sitting against the door to his place.

“Should I be concerned or excited for this visit?” He tries to keep it light, but his heart is racing with legitimate concern.

“I didn’t escape from the mental institution if that’s what you’re thinking, I got released three days ago.”

Morgan stands up so Cale can unlock his door.

“It’s just I took a leave of absence from school and in hindsight that may have been a mistake.”

“Yeah? I didn’t even finish college so I’m not exactly well-informed on grad school, but I can’t imagine missing two weeks is that easy to make up especially near the end of the semester.”

“That was my reasoning, but it’s only been three days and my schedule is a little too open.”

They follow Cale into the apartment, and flop onto the couch like they own the place. Cale feels the need to keep an eye on Morgan but also doesn’t want to be suffocating and he has luggage to put away and laundry to start.

Morgan keeps going on like they just need to talk so Cale goes about his business while he listens.

“I can only go to so much therapy or meetings and I don’t have a new sponsor yet, and all my friends except you and Logan have real jobs, so I’m feeling a bit aimless. Maybe I should pick up a hobby.”

“Maybe you could pick more shifts at work,” Cale decides chores can wait a bit and flops down on the couch next Morgan, picking up their legs to rest across his.

“Well I work at a bar, which is great for hiding alcoholism, not great for sobriety.”

“Yikes, probably not. What did you do in the past?”

“Throw myself into school or lie about getting sober.”

“Right,” Cale feels a bit out of his depth here, “Want to go on a hike?”

“Like right now? Didn’t you just get back from a road trip, shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m not gonna make you climb a mountain,” he stands up and offers his hands to help Morgan up, “exercise gives you endorphins.”

“Isn’t that from Legally Blonde?”

Cale can feel his ears burning but notices Morgan is flushing too, he realizes they’re still holding hands, neither making the first move to let go.

And that’s how Cale finds his off time filled with trails around Denver. Sometimes just the two of them, not really talking, just heavy breathing and enjoying the views. Sometimes with OC and Jade, which weirdly makes Cale’s nervous, it’s somehow more intimate than when it’s just Morgan and himself.

His heart sings when Morgan sends him a picture of a hike, they took on their own, or with some people from group, or Jade. He likes knowing they’re filling their time with something; that he’s a good influence, a good friend even when he can’t physically be involved.

And he can’t help but want Morgan involved in his life too. It’s why on one of their “double date” hikes he finally gets the courage to ask.

“You want to come to our next home game Mo?”

Morgan is still gasping a bit from the last incline they hiked up, but they smile through it regardless.

Jade is the first to speak up, “It’s a playoff game, will that be too much for you?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t come anyway. I’m getting my 30-day chip that night.”

“Oh fuck, Mo I completely forgot. I wanted us to be there to celebrate with you,” Jade pouts.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“No that’s a huge deal, congrats,” Cale smiles through his selfish disappointment.

“Jade, it’s okay if you miss the game,” Logan adds, his own disappointment shining through a bit too, the whole conversation becoming a bit of a downer.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been a month sober, go cheer on our team for me Jade. And I’ll go to the next game,” Jade makes a noise of concern, “and if it’s too much I leave early to go to a meeting or something.”

“Fine, but I’m still getting you a cake to celebrate on another day.”

It turns out a game and a playoff game on top of that is too much. Morgan barely makes it through the first before they have to excuse themselves.

They text Cale: Sorry I’m too lame to hang, but still screaming and cheering in spirit

Cale can’t help but feel sad when he isn’t greeted by Morgan, watching everyone else get celebratory hugs from loved one feels like a stab in the gut. Jade gives him a hug that makes him a feel a bit pathetic.

“We’re going to Mo’s for some ice cream cake if you want to join, I know they’d like you there.”

He feels a little less pathetic and feels something warm make its home behind his sternum.

|||

They win the next game but then it seems to all go to shit.

He doesn’t mean for the hit to be that bad. He could make excuses about the heat of the game; about the blood that buzzes in his ears that makes him so singularly focused on the ice. But it doesn’t change what happens, how it looks in the replay. It looks bad, it is bad, and yeah, he probably deserves the suspension he gets.

It doesn’t help that they lose the game, in OT of all things.

He’s angry and blames himself for all the team’s problems, deep down he knows it’s irrational, he just can’t help it.

Morgan calls him, their name flashing on his phone would usually cause his heart to skip a beat, but he’s just tired. He answers anyway.

“Hey, how are you?”

There’s no pity or even concern in their voice, just a normal greeting like Morgan doesn’t know what happened. He’s torn between relief and anger.

He grunts in response.

“Ooh, never a good greeting.”

“Any reason you called?” He doesn’t recognize his own voice with the tone that comes out on its own accord.

“Just wanted to catch up, see if you wanted to hang out or something. Get your mind off the playoffs for a bit.”

“Don’t you have your own problems to worry about? Fix yourself before getting in my business,” he snaps before he can stop himself.

He wants to be angry; he wants to wallow in his frustration and disappointment. Morgan just happens to be the first person he can target it at.

“Oh. Justdon’tbetoohardonyourself,” they spit the last bit out in one word before hanging up.

Cale has even more reason to be hard on himself now. He gets a sick enjoyment from picking at his wounds rather than licking them.

But the guilt weighs on him.

It weighs on him when OC sends a glare his way during practice, clearly hearing how Cale acted towards Morgan.

It weighs on him when he gets back into the lineup, even when he has two points on the board.

It weighs on him as he sits in stall and stares at his hands, having lost the series. It feels like everything went wrong because of him, and he hates that there is a degree of truth in that thought.

When he finally feels like he’s mentally beat himself up enough in the locker room, he gets up to beat himself up more at home.

Morgan is there sitting against his door. Cale thinks of turning around and running, but since he’s being a glutton for punishment at the moment, he faces this head on.

“Sorry about the game, sucks,” Morgan stands up and hugs him.

Before he knows it, he’s hugging them back and crying.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs out, knowing it’s not enough but all he can give right now.

“It’s okay,” they rub his back, their cast feeling weirdly soothing.

“It’s not, that was a really shitty thing to do.”

“If anyone knows about lashing out when things are bad, it’s me. You’re forgiven.”

Morgan pulls away and gives him a reassuring smile, Cale wants to believe that he’s forgiven. They seem to sense that.

“Seriously Cale. Right before I went to rehab the first time, Jade had threatened to tell my parents about my problems, so I told her if she did that she would never find another friend because she was completely unlovable and I only kept her around because of how pathetic she was.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, doesn’t make it okay to say those things, it’s been like a decade I’m still trying to make it up to Jade, but you’re forgiven for letting your emotions get the better of you.”

“At least you had drugs to blame it on, that was all me,” Cale smirks, before he widens his eyes, realizing how fucked up that was to say.

But Morgan bursts out into a laugh, it feels like winning in a miniscule way.

“Now we’re real friends,” they ruffle his hair, “an acquaintance would never feel comfortable enough to make that joke.”

The word friend doesn’t sit quite right with Cale, like wearing a shirt that’s a size too small.

Morgan grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze, “I’m glad we’ll be on good terms before you go back to Calgary.”

He grabs their fingers peeking out of the cast and takes a big swing, “Calgary has some good trails around, if you feel like getting away for a bit, we can celebrate 60 days of sobriety.”

Morgan is trying to bite back a smile, “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

They stand in the hallway, grinning at each other like dopes and holding hands. Neither wanting to say goodbye but not really sure what to do next.

Then Morgan kisses him. It’s not quite a peck yet not quite a deep, passionate kiss. It’s something different: tender and meaningful.

“I’m not really supposed to date anyone for a year,” Cale furrows his brows in response.

“It’s an NA/AA thing, we’re supposed to focus on recovery and ourselves before we start putting energy towards other people.”

“Oh, yeah that’s–” Cale tries to hide his disappointment.

“But you’ll be the first person I call when I get there,” they intertwine their fingers, “cause maybe you can graduate from friend to something more.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” neither one can wipe the stupid grin off their face.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #cale makar fic #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagines #colorado avalanche fic #hockey imagines #nhl #hockey #nhl imagines #hockey fics #nhl stories #non binary oc

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Can I ask something like: reader being engaged to someone of the Zen'in clan (not willingly) and discovering that she is pregnant with Getou's child, which she's having a secret relationship. So this would lead to a huge conflict. Feel free to add smut or change anything if you don't feel confortable writing it! Thanks for your work. Lots of love <3<3<3

SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER (who happens to be me)

Arrangements: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.9k

tw: nsfw, angst, mentions of abuse

The priceless china teacup - the only one of its kind in the set of four - drops from your hand and to the dining room floor, where it shatters into a million pieces.

"No."

Your father looks at you with concern, as if you had just spoken some foreign language.

"No," you repeat, this time with much more emphasis. Didn't he understand the meaning of the word? Or was "no" not a part of his vocabulary?

"Unfortunately, you don't have a choice, y/n. You and Naoya have been paired together since birth, and it's now time for you to--"

"I said no!" You stand from the table and walk past your father to exit the dining room, pushing the door open with fury. As you stalk away from the arranged marriage to a Zen'in and your father, you feel tears well up in your eyes.

You scrub them away as you push past your bodyguard and into your room, where you lock the door. But the tears come faster than you expect, and you can't help but weep. It isn't until the sun goes down that you stand from your seated position and move to your desk, where the picture of you and your best friend sits, his black eyes glaring at the camera as you pinch his cheeks, smiling at him with glee. You were only five then, but if you knew then what would happen to you fifteen years later, you would have begged to run away with him much sooner.

The 'plink' of a pebble smashing into your window calls you out of your daydream, and you place the picture back down before moving to open your windowpane.

"You really could just knock," you advise Suguru Geto, who stands at your window with a silly grin on his face. "It'd be a lot less annoying."

"But what's the fun in that?" he wonders, climbing inside easily. "Plus, it gives me an excuse to find pebbles around the grounds. You know how I like rocks." You roll your eyes as he leans in, placing a deep kiss on your lips and wrapping his arms around your waist. "Mmm," Suguru hums. "You've been crying. What's new?"

"Nothing," you lie, but he tilts your chin up, examining your face.

"Looks like you've been crying for a while... Did your father say something to you at tea time?" You hold in a sob, lips quivering. "Perhaps a spat over something he sees as trivial, per usual?"

"Stop," you beg, pushing his hand away. "I don't want to talk about it."

Suguru steps back, rifling around in his pockets for something. When he produces the black stone, he hands it to you, letting your fingers drift over the polished texture as you consider opening up to the only man you love. "Here's one of my worry stones. You can rub at it and it'll take the negative feelings away."

You hold it in your hand, making a note to save it with the other pretty things Suguru has given you over the years in the box under your bed. You sit on your bed and he follows suit, laying beside you and sighing.

"Have you ever thought about running away?" you wonder, and Geto bites his lower lip thoughtfully.

"Sometimes. But then I remember that I can't run away from all of my problems, and I'd be leaving you behind."

"Maybe we should run away together." At your proposal, Geto puts his hands underneath his head, staring at the spinning fan.

"I can't condone that. You'd be running away from your problems, y/n."

"And? What does it matter if I only have you? Is that enough?"

"It matters a lot," Suguru mumbles, and you sigh. "I can't ask you to give up your life for one of hardship. I've been working on saving a bit of money, though. When I get enough, I'll buy a ring, come to your dad, and ask him for permission to marry you. Just wait a little while."

"We don't have a little while," you blurt, and he frowns. "My father wants to marry me off to some Zen'in, and--"

"What?" Suguru sits up, black hair falling down his back. "Say that again."

"My father wants to marry me off to some Zen'in," you repeat, and Suguru's eyes widen immensely before squinting.

"No, no, no... that can't be right," he breathes, and you shake your head.

"That's why I've been crying." Shock gives way to a blank look and he stands, running a hand through his hair.

"I have to go."

"Wait!" you cry out, but Suguru is out of your window in a flash, walking across your lawn without turning back.

_____________________________________________________________

The look Naoya Zen'in gives you is revolting.

When he strides into the room, your insides melt to nothingness and apprehension takes over. He circles you like prey, smiling at your shape and making lewd comments about your child-rearing abilities.

"Looks like you have a set of hips that are perfect for---"

"Naoya," your father chides, and the man slides his eyes to your father's face.

"Right, well..." the man clears his throat. "I would like to see what she's like by herself if you don't mind." Your father gives you a look that says 'behave' and you plead with him in your head to remain in the room. But he leaves you two alone, and that's when Naoya's face drops its smirk.

"Alright, let's be frank with each other." He leans forward on the table between you, lacing his fingers together. "I'm not in the business of making you feel good about yourself. You have to do that on your own. I'm going to tell you what I need when I need it. If you can't provide it, then you should seriously consider emptying that little head of yours of the idea that I won't remind you of your place."

You recoil at his words, lips curling up in disgust.

"And don't even think about replying with some smart-ass remark. I'm not the Chief of Hei for nothing." Bile rises up in your mouth at the thought of this swine being your betrothed, but you force it down, swallowing hard.

"I understand."

"Good. Now, let me see you turn around and walk out. I want to watch your hips as you walk away."

_____________________________________________________________

You rush into your bathroom and lean over the toilet, all of your consumed food coming back up. You vomit until nothing is left in your stomach, and dry heave for the rest of the time you're perched at the toilet bowl.

When it's all said and done, you wipe your mouth and flush, face redder than it was before you started feeling ill.

'Plink'.

Your head swivels to the window, and you rush to open it, coming face-to-face with Suguru.

"Babe..." he whispers, face flushed. "I brought you something." When he comes inside and sits on your bed, you consider telling him about the encounter with Naoya, but when he opens a small box, you're stopped in your tracks.

"Su!" You eye the small moonstone ring with curiosity, a smile creeping across your face. "Su, this is gorgeous."

"Solid rose gold and moonstone; your favorite." You slide the ring onto your ring finger and hold it up to the light.

"I love it... I love you." Suguru stands and brings you close to him, holding onto your head carefully.

"I'm going to take it to your father right now and--"

"I really wouldn't recommend you do that," a voice calls out from your doorway and both of you pull apart, startled by Naoya's sudden presence. "I had a feeling you'd be otherwise occupied." Naoya closes the door as he enters, smirking. "I should tell Mr. L/N myself that I've discovered this little tryst, but I think I'll let this poor man off the hook just this once." He turns to Suguru and gives him a deadly glare, crossing the space between them. "Leave. Don't come back here. I don't care how you feel or what you've done. But she's my property now, and no one other than me touches my things." Geto bristles at the threat, eye twitching.

"Make me, you piece of dogshit."

It's apparent that Naoya isn't quick to anger, but his fists clench in defiance. "I see," he breathes, letting go of his fists and running a hair through his light-colored hair. "You'll regret those words." And he leaves you two in the room, closing the door behind him carefully.

_____________________________________________________________

You stare at the little bump protruding from your belly in disbelief, fingers quivering over the skin. You try to recall the last time you and Suguru had unprotected sex and realize it was over a month ago, right before Naoya had appeared in your life.

The heavy onyx ring sits on your finger, reminding you of your engagement and the despicable man who had chased your lover away on that dreadful night.

Footsteps approach your room, and you quickly dress in your loose-fitting cotton shift dress, concealing any signs of pregnancy. Naoya throws open your doors and strides in, eyes looking about the room. "I have a little surprise for you, doll," he smiles, holding his hand out for you to take. Without hesitation, you grip it, knowing any delay could mean a swift backhand or a bruised wrist. "You'll enjoy this. I think I'll consider it my wedding present to you."

Naoya half-drags, half-walks you to the courtyard, where many of the townspeople have gathered, their faces somber and uneasy.

And chained to a post at the front is Suguru, his shirt torn and scrapes dragging across his skin.

"Just in time," Naoya chirps, pushing through the crowd and making you stand at the front, where Suguru could see you. His eyes widen, and he mouths something to you, but you shake your head, hands trembling.

"This man has been accused of stealing from the town's jeweler," Naoya calls out, circling around Suguru carefully. "And in his possession, we found a valuable piece of evidence." The accuser holds up a moonstone ring - your moonstone ring - showing it to the crowd proudly. "The punishment for theft is usually loss of a hand. But I feel that he should be delivered a much less barbaric punishment." Your heart leaps out of your chest, and you bite your tongue to keep from crying out.

Nothing Naoya would do would be less than barbaric.

"Fifty lashes are appropriate for the crime," he announces, and a man comes out of the crowd with a whip, standing behind Suguru with authority. Your eyes sting with tears, and you try your best to hold in a scream when the first lash lands across Suguru's back.

His black eyes are trained on you for the first fifteen strikes, but when the sixteenth lash rings out in the crowd, they begin to roll back, and he cries out in pain, voice echoing across the courtyard. Naoya sidles up beside you, gripping your wrist.

"See what happens when you sleep around with thieves?" he hisses, and you begin to weep, your vision blurring with tears. He chuckles and you hide your face behind your hands, sobbing furiously.

By the fortieth lash, you're all cried out, and Suguru's lost consciousness. His eyes are closed and his head lolls forward, hair drooping across his face. And when the man finishes, Suguru is left on the post, his blood and sweat mixing together across his back. You can hear ragged breathing after a minute of waiting, and Naoya goes up to Suguru's body, pulling his head back by his hair.

"Learned not to mess with my things?" he grins, and Suguru drags himself from the edge of consciousness to whisper,

"For y/n? I'd do it all over again."

The look of pure, unadulterated shock on Naoya's face is enough to haunt you every day afterward.

#jjk getou #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou x reader #geto x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #naoya zenin

[elibeeline]

In the few months since I've realised I have adhd, I've gathered some tips that helped me//mistakes I learned from. So they're probably useful to other people, adhd or not!

Get the app Keep Notes!! It's a google app, so it should be on both android and ios. It's more useful than the normal notes app, because you can set reminders to go off at a location!! Wanna remember something when you go to parents, the shop, work, when you get home?? Type in the address and it'll go off when you get there.

Keep a separate face cloth for washing off make up!! I have three face cloths in my bathroom that I keep thinking has mold on when it's actually eyeliner or mascara. Use just one instead of ruining multiple for yourself 😅

Get many patterned post-it notes!! A friend used to gift me stationary sets and now the books of post-its come in handy for leaving myself notes around the house. I use different ones each time so my brain doesn't just let it blend in.

If you can, don't do things daily!! I find exhausting doing the same thing every day. Leave plates in the sink for a day, load the washing machine in one go at the end of the week instead of bit by bit. A common nd/chronic illness metaphor is the spoons one - the more spoons (activities/chores) they use, the more exhausted they feel. Narrowing down the amount of spoons you use might make you feel a bit better!

Keep gum on you!! Particularly if you're a sensory person! Mouth uncomfortable after a bad-textured meal? Gum. Need to chew stim? Gum. Someone's bad breath irritating you? Ask them if that gum tastes funky to politely give them some without pointing it out

Lists!! Shopping lists, wish list, search history list, all very useful surprisingly often!! Especially if you're forgetful

For the love of all things good, don't take things out of your bag!! Keep your keys in there, your wallet/purse, your ID, your mask, lip balm, everything. Again, if you're as forgetful as me, you'll forget to put it back in until you need it.

On a similar note, keep a briefcase of important things!! If not a briefcase, stationary drawers do the same!! By important things I mean bank statements, payslips, educational certificates, proof of any name changes, a second ID (because sometimes things ask for two for some reason. I have my passport and birth certificate)

I'll add to this if I think of any more or if anyone else has any more!!

#adhd tips #neurodivergent tips

[newtafterdark]

Taste of Metal - Chapter 2:   Safe Inside Familiar Walls AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26157634/chapters/63644236

Summary: What if the overwhelming VR experience Gordon went through, had a deeper purpose than just being a simple simulation & a freelance debug job for him? But most importantly- what if Gordon Freeman listens to Metal & used to be in a band? aka. the "Metalhead Gordon AU"

- - -

Gordon couldn’t sleep, as much as his body wanted him to.

The pain was one thing, but the number of unanswered questions was the overwhelming main reason he had curled up in a blanket, staring at nothing with wide eyes like a startled cat.

Tommy had not moved much after he had teleported them both into Gordon’s apartment, aside from grabbing a water bottle and some painkillers from the kitchen for the shaken scientist.

“D-Do we just wait? I don’t… I don’t know what to do a-about any of this. What even is “this”? What happened? H-How are you even REAL?”, Gordon stammered.

Tommy gave him an apologetic smile from his spot at the end of the bed.

“I just am, Mr Freeman. We all were- uhm- we all are real! I… wanted to tell you during everything. We all did! B-But the code didn’t let us.”

“But you can talk about it now! What changed it?”

Tommy appeared a chunk more nervous at this question but continued anyway-

“You.”

“M-Me??”, Gordon stuttered as he found himself in the focus of Tommy’s vibrant glowing eyes once again.

“We didn’t think someone could alter the code of the simulation like you did, Mr. Freeman... Y-You freed us.”, Tommy said with a warm smile- “I… all of us will do our best to explain everything to you once everyone is here.”

“In my apartment?” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “We thought bringing you here would be the safest option for you. It’s a place you know and would feel comfortable in. I-In general but also to talk about everything that happened?”

Gordon nodded slowly.

“I… yeah, I guess that makes sense. And when you say “we”... are you sure everyone will make it out alive without our help?”

“Absolutely!”, Tommy's laugh lines deepened at the edge of his eyes- “I think they are just wrecking the place now for fun now! :)”

That left Gordon silent for a few seconds.

“Oh. W-Well… I…”, Gordon let out a short shaky laugh- “Sorry that I keep you from joining the fun... and that I can’t add support myself-”

Suddenly, Gordon found himself being held once more. Tommy hugged him gently, his chin resting on Gordon’s head.

“A-All of us want you to be safe first, Mr… … Gordon. Fun mayhem comes second! And… a-and I am rather here with you than g-getting overwhelmed with the noise… as fun as destroying a facility might be.”

Gordon chuckled, brushing away a tear he hadn’t noticed falling. “Oh… uhm, thanks. For being here and… the foresight and all that. I don’t think we’ll be safe here in the long run though…”

The taller scientist tilted his head at that. “Why would you leave your home behind? You don’t have to when anyone who could tell on us has other problems to deal with. Much... much bigger problems at that!”

“What… okay, you actually need to sit my ass down and explain what the fuck is happening. Because... this vague shit? Not helping with my still high-stress levels, my man.”

“Resonance cascade………....2”, was suddenly muttered too closely into Gordon’s left ear, almost making the man yeet himself off the bed-

“OH SHI-”

Gordon stared, almost frozen in place.

“B-BENREY?”

The guard (or former guard now? had he even ever been one, to begin with?) was propping himself up on the bed beside Gordon, his lower body no-clipping through it. Seeing this happen in real life turned out to be way trippier than Gordon could have ever imagined.

Yet aside from that… and the very much scary boss encounter they had had with him in the simulation, Benrey looked relaxed. Comfortable even.

“Yo, Feetm-”

Instantly, Benrey got tackled by Gordon. Aggressively, yes - but not with ill intent. Benrey let out a startled wheeze but soon stared in shock as he was tightly hugged against Gordon’s chest.

“I still have no idea how any of this is happening, but I am so fucking happy to see your annoying ass alive, holy SHIT!”, Gordon laughed, ignoring the pain in his stump as good as he could.

Tommy let out a snort as a few pink sweet voice orbs escaped Benrey.

“uhhhhhhhhhhhh… You too, man? Wasn’t sure if you’d make it on your own… decided that Tommy was the best. He always is, but… ya know. For getting you out. Smarter than all of us combined, ya know?”

Tommy waved Benrey off with a blush but smiled.

“Y-Yeah but all that matters is that everyone’s okay. Do you think the rest of the team will be here soon? I w-want us to tell Gordon what happened. He… he really needs to know. There were enough secrets in Black Mesa. :(”

Gordon slowly let go of Benrey and sat up, returning to cradling his arm. He let out a sigh.

“You can say that again. I… I don’t know how much you all know about my side of things, but the bastards never really told me the most important details on any of the projects they assigned me to. I always had to peace everything together myself… which was frustrating as all hell...”

Now it was Benrey’s turn to let out a huff as he pulled himself on top of the bed and got comfortable laying down with his hands behind his head. Gordon decided to look past the fact that the man was still in full guard get-up, including his helmet and boots. At least he looked surprisingly clean...

“Yeah, that was, uh… their whole schtick. Always has been.”, Benrey said, scratching his cheek with- … that was an entire third arm he just grew and Gordon decided to look past that even quicker than the full guard-getup.

Suddenly the door to Gordon’s bedroom opened, making Gordon jump and hold tighter onto his aching arm- until he recognized the friendly face of Darnold…and the very large golden retriever that pushed the door further open to let herself in.

Gordon’s tense shoulders relaxed a bit at the sight of both of them.

“H-Hey...”, stuttered Darnold, giving Gordon a nervous smile and wave- “I just wanted to let you guys know that Sunkist and I checked the area and the apartment. Everything’s clean.”

Sunkist let out a soft woof at the sound of her name and then opted to rest her head on the bed near Gordon. Man, she really was huge. And very much 3D now. Another thing to add to Gordon’s “oh damn I’m starting to feel real overwhelmed by this entire situation”-list.

Tommy pet Sunkist’s head gently and nodded. “Thanks, Darnold! And that’s good! We are several miles away from the facility... but it’s better to be extra safe and see if anything is weird here!”

Darnold sat down on the floor beside Tommy.

“I’ll go check again in a few minutes… I don’t trust this supposed freedom just yet.”

Gordon opted to just nod at that. Speech was slowly failing him as his senses dulled slightly from exhaustion. He leaned back against his bed frame.

He was about to close his eyes as the sound of space being wrapped and time getting bent to his left pulled him right back into high alert-

Dr Coomer and Bubby stepped out through the portal that had formed way too close to the boxes with Gordon’s vinyl record collection, followed by G-Man who closed the portal with a wave of his hand.

“Hello, Gordon!”, Dr Coomer exclaimed, eyes bright and happy as he spotted the man currently half bundled up in his blanket- “Looks like you made it here with good Tommy’s help without... ehm… further harm.”

Bubby scanned Gordon’s form with his eyes and frowned.

“They actually did it, the bastards. Shouldn’t surprise me, but...”, he motioned at the air without aim, seemingly not being able to put his frustration into words.

Gordon just smiled softly at them, exhausted to all hell and back but so relieved and happy that the entire Science Team had made it.

He also noted that Dr Coomer’s limb enhancements were far more visible in real life than in the low-poly form he had been used to. It was interesting to see and the tech guy in him really wanted to ask the man about the intricacies of how they worked. But… later. That could wait.

Bubby on the other hand… there was something off about how Bubby looked. Gordon couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but he supposed that Bubby’s lore of having been created artificially must have carried over into his real-life form as well.

But once again, this was something for Future Gordon to ponder about.

Present Gordon wanted to know about the general “ok, what the fuck just happened???”, before diving into information that he wasn’t even sure he had the right to know about.

He noticed G-Man giving his stump a glance as well before the suited man materialized a simple wooden chair for himself and sat down on it.

Bubby and Coomer opted to join Darnold and Tommy on the floor.

With everyone finally seated, G-Man opened his briefcase and pulled a very heavy-looking folder out of it. Its casing reminded Gordon of the pattern and colour of a missing texture error.

“I am… certain you have a lot of questions, Mr Freeman.”

Gordon closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. He opened his eyes again, looking at everyone in the room over once more before nodding.

#hlvrai #metalhead gordon au #gordon freeman #hlvrai gordon #benrey #tommy coolatta #hlvrai darnold #hlvrai bubby #hlvrai coomer #hlvrai g-man #hlvrai sunkist #fanfic #fanfics #metalhead gordon #gordon is overwhelmed AS FUCK but he's trying his best

[starswornoaths]

📔

I wrote these a bit lengthy, so I’m sticking a cut here bc spoilers for 4.5 but I was an indecisive bean and there’s an entry for Serella, Uthengentle, and just because I write him enough that I might as well, one for Aymeric as well! Thank you for the ask! \o/

(edit: OR IT JUST WON’T LET ME ADD A CUT WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT TUMBLR I’M ON THE DESKTOP SITE SO FAIR WARNING SPOILERS FOR 4.5 AFTER THIS EDIT OKAY THANK YOU I’M SO SORRY WTFFFFFF)

Serella:

My name is Serella Arcbane. (her name is underlined)

Not so long ago I would have found it ridiculous that I needed to remind myself what my name is. Given that I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been referred to by my name instead of a title, however, I think I’m allowed. Now that I have another one, however temporary...it seemed a good time to remind myself.

Antecedent...the title carries with it too much pain. Too much loss. The remaining Scions approved of my accepting the title for lack of anyone else with any seniority willing or able to take it. I remind myself that it’s temporary, that the second even one of my companions wakes up, I get to just be the Warrior of Light again.

Just, I say. As if it were an inconsequential thing in itself.

At least then, when I was naught more than the Warrior of Light, I was able to still be Serella. I wasn’t made to isolate myself from everyone I know and love. It hurts, knowing that I had finally found family amongst so many people, so many I hold dear, who now can’t see me, either because they are unable to make the journey or because it would be improper of them to do so.

Ma came to visit me today. Her visit...I don’t know. When she called me by my name...I didn’t even respond to it at first. It was as if I had just...forgotten it. Perhaps I did. Perhaps I will again. She suggested I write it down. Said it’s how she remembers the little things about Da. I don’t know if it’ll help. I wish he was here, too. Of all the things I’ve forgotten, that I can’t remember what he looked like hurts me the most.

I’ve forgotten so many things I took for granted. So many little things about those I love. In writing, I hope I can remember at least a few- or at least, be reminded of them.

Raubahn has this deep belly laugh when I crack jokes with him- and really, he is the one constant patron of my puns, readily exchanging more with me for as long as we both have jokes to spare. Says it’s from years of being a father. I can’t remember how his laugh sounds.

Merlwyb would refuse to admit it- and if she ever catches wind of documentation of it, she’ll throw me to the Sahagin, of that I have no doubt- but I miss her singing. Low and rumbling as thunder, textured like velvet but fills the room like smoke. I’ve forgotten how the tune goes, which is ridiculous. I’ve heard her hum it a thousand times.

Aymeric...gods, for how he haunts my dreams you would think I would remember his smile. I should. I remember the things that made him smile. When I would bring sweets from that one chocolatier in town, or sweets from somewhere I had recently traveled. When I would move his bangs to kiss his forehead. Or sometimes...just when he looked at me. 

What shade of blue were his eyes? Were they a deeper shade like the night sky over the Steppe? Or was that the blue of his coat that I’m remembering? 

Why am I forgetting everything so quickly?! I have object permanence! It’s only been some moon and a sennight since I last saw everyone! I’m not some geriatric invalid rapidly losing who I am! I’m not some tempered thrall of a primal, adrift in want to serve my master and bereft of all concept of self! I am not-

(The following lines are writ with words made illegible with scribblings of ink and lines frustratedly crossed through them with enough force to nearly tear a hole in the paper. At the bottom, as if in triumph, there are only two more legible sentence:)

I am Serella Arcbane, and no one can take that from me. Not even a god.

Uthengentle:

Visited Ma over coffee this morning. I went fully intending to just say goodbye then and there. Made sense, I figured. We were leaving tomorrow.

I couldn’t say goodbye. I tried, Rhalgr knows I did. 

Had written a letter ahead of everything just in case. Only makes sense, given our line of work. Left that instead. Didn’t even have the stomach to say goodbye at the door. I left while she went to make another cup for me. I’ll have to apologize to her later. If we make it back.

...When. When we make it back. No sense in the doom and gloom; we’ve been through such shite before. Doubt this would be the end of it, either, but I can hope.

Ellie’s been having worse episodes with that voice, nearly passing out a time or two from what F’lhaminne told me. I hate I can’t be more help. I wish I could at least understand what she’s going through. All I get is headaches, sometimes a flash of an image, but it never bothers me. Krile suspects that has to do with Serella being more sensitive to aether and the Echo than I am. 

I just hope they stop once we leave. They should, right? If we’re going where we’re being called, they have no reason to keep callin’, I’d assume. Or their arseholes, and will do it anyway. Won’t matter. Let ‘em. We’ve got our family to save.

...Well. Some of ‘em. Still feels wrong to abandon everyone on the front lines. We should be there. The closer we get to leaving, the more ill I feel about it. From what Ellie said, she’s not faring much better in that regard. Said Aymeric told her to let them handle this fight, but he’s gotta know without us it could go either way. The man’s not stupid- none of ‘em are. Raubahn promised he’d defend the camp with his last breath...but I don’t want it to come to that.

Riol’s been scouting in Thancred’s place- from what he’s been able to gather, the Garleans are holding their cards to their chest. They have something big planned, and they’re just waiting for the right time to use it. Is that time when we’re out of the picture?

I hate that I don’t know, and I can’t find out before we leave.

I hate even more that we have to leave at all, but it’s clearly not something we have a choice in. Either we go to them, or we’re pulled to them. Better we still have our bodies and our senses and just bite the bullet. 

Warned Hilda to up the Watch with the Templars out of Ishgard. Not that she needs that warning; woman’s an unstoppable force already. It could be her and her alone standing at the gate if the Imperials march on Ishgard, and the safe money would still be on Hilda, far as I’m concerned.

I know my friends are capable without me around. I know they don’t need the Warriors of Light to keep them going. Doesn’t mean I don’t just want to be there to protect them- or failing that, die with them- and just fuck off to some far flung wherever.

We’ll be back before we know it. I’ll see to it myself if I have to.

Aymeric:

The battle continues into its fifth week, now. Though we have not lost an ilm to the Imperials, nor have they lost ground to us. Losses on both sides are mounting. We are hitting a breaking point, everyone can sense it. That there is a turning point fast approaching is not in question, but to which side the tide shall turn. 

O Halone shield your children from the encroaching dark, I beseech thee. 

The Warriors of Light make to leave in search of the Scions. The Alliance had to all but force them into leaving this battle to us, a turning point that came with the fear that (there is a name crossed out) the acting Antecedent had fallen to the same affliction that had claimed the rest. With her restored, however, they yet have hope to find those whose souls have been set adrift from this star. I only hope their path leads to victory, and then to home.

(the remainder of the entry is written in a different ink, presumably at a later point in time. The letters are splotched in places with drops of water.)

I nearly lost her. When Estinien laid her lifeless body in front of me, I feared the worst. We bore her to Ishgard with the full expectation that she would not wake. By the Fury, but when she did...

We are...no longer courting. I remind myself of this every time I am made to respond to one of her missives. That we are only separated by temporary obligation is beside the point: whatever relief I might have felt, whatever ache I carry in my chest will have to stay there, so long as she holds the title of Antecedent. 

Only for now. Another reminder to myself.

She yet shields me, even now, so far from the battlefield as she is made to be. Her promise still sits upon my hand. It shall do so unto death, and longer yet. I have already requested she not be allowed to take the ring from my finger. I have no need to be freed from it in Halone’s halls; regardless of her own heart, if I am the first to fall, then I will wait. I had long since decided thus, even before we were betrothed. 

I only wish I had not been so reserved with her for so long. I should have made more time for her. I swore to her I would never take her for granted and yet to dwell on our courtship, I always took her return as given. Now...now I only pray, and continue to fight that I might live to see her return.

(there are entire swaths of sentences scratched out, only some words such as, “promise,” “love,” and, “forgive,” are barely legible)

She must return. I know not what to do without her otherwise.

O Halone guide my beloved home in victory. 

#chysgoda #thank you for the ask! #why yes I'm still on this feels train! #spoilers for 4.5 #ffxiv rp ask meme #Serella Arcbane #Uthengentle Arcbane #Aymeric de Borel

[rimurutempest-bounced]

questions for neurodivergent folks ( from @shitborderlinesdo )

post here!

if ur autistic:

1. do you stim?

yes, sometimes! i’ve suppressed a lot of it over time but i still do some subtly.

 if so, what are yr favourite stims? 

touching/tapping the tips of my fingers together, stroking soft patches of skin(esp backs of my hands, wrists, or parts of my thighs, hips, ankles), cracking knuckles, stretching fingers/feet/arms/legs rly far, rapid blinking(though i also have a tic involving blinking which is similar, but involuntary), bubble wrap,flicking light switches/door lock mechanisms, bouncing on toes, toewalking, chewing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!(esp pens/pen caps and similar textures), biting, mouthing/lipping things, clacking my teeth lightly, whistling, leg jiggle sometimes, jumping, skipping, hopping, and a few other rly specific things (like involving swimming, or being on something and hanging so im upside down and stuff)

2. happy stims? chewing, biting, skin stroking, finger tapping, skipping, hopping, jumping 3. negative stims? snapping fingers, “hiccuping” (it’s a little giggle/hiccup type thing i do, but idk what to call it), teeth clacking, leg jiggle, exposing too long to extreme cold temps, hitting head against things 4. favourite textures? idk how to explain the soft-smooth i like; silk usually looks like it should feel like this, but it doesn't. also when people talk about “plush velvet” the texture that comes to mind is good, like a really nice stuffed animal or a cavalier king charles spaniel with super soft fur, but real velvet feels bad lol. also just most fur in general, esp rabbit, cat, certain dogs. some wing or chest feathers on birds like doves. milk weed fluff. soft, squishy, fuzzy caterpillars(not the bristly guard hair ones. more like forest tent caterpillars), moon jellies, soft leather/suede, really smooth grey granite, polished shiny pink granite, lambs ear/mullein 5. least favourite textures? some types of linen are VERY BAD but idk what they are, they’re like stiff and scratchy and feel super cold? gummy bears, ew. really hard chocolate in cold ice cream, a lot of faux furs, like so many, most (sheep)wool, scallops, often times chinchilla fur feels bad, most velvet, esp crushed velvet, potato sacks, a lot of plastic bags/thin plastic film 6. what's a pet peeve of urs involving a specific sound? squeaky plastic is the worst, esp from plastic wrap. teeth grinding/bruxing is bad, hearing people having sex in another room/apt, heavy footsteps/stomping, esp when fast like running, door slamming, when people slam their hands on a table because they just thought of something, the sound quality of like...having water in your ears/popped ear drums, where everything feels muffled and almost whispery/far away, but also REALLY LOUD AND CLOSE... 7. a specific sound that makes you Really Happy? al snoring softly like a cat, my cat snoring, cats purring, crackling fires, wind whistling, waves lapping, thunder rumbling, THUNDER CRACKING, wood creaking in a strong wind, that soft snuffling of cat/dog noses, the sound of rodents digging in bedding or eating millet, angel caller bells(bola, fairy callers, whatever you call them) 8. when were you diagnosed (self or professionally)? about 6 years ago what has changed with the diagnosis? i dont hate myself for as much of my behaviours/thinking/speech patterns. im slowly trying to let myself let go of “survival mode” NT behaviours i was forced to learn 9. are there any behaviours you have that, prior to diagnosis, didnt make much sense, but now they do? too many to list lmao 10. what kind of representation would you like to see of autistic ppl in media? girls, trans folks, autistics of colour, just less cis white boy perfect example savants. autistics with “atypical” autistic symptoms. autistics with ugly meltdowns and other unpleasant symptoms. autistics who are messy eaters, who can’t dress themselves, who struggle with everyday tasks and self care. autistics with “useless” special interests that cant be reworked to make them more productive genius types. LOUD autistics.  

if ur mentally ill:

11.when were you diagnosed (self or professional)?

6 yrs old or younger

12. what is your diagnosis/are your diagnoses?

BPD, (various types of)depression, DPD/social anxiety(when i’m alone)/agoraphobia, panic disorder NOS, mood disorder NOS, DID, ADD/ADHD-PI, ASD, gender dysphoria at one point, conduct disorder or whatever it was called. IED. all i can think of. all diagnosed professionally over the years, though ASD is not on any official records because i asked it to be left off to avoid that specific abuse/stigma.

13. is the community youve found with other mentally ill ppl helpful?

mostly no. but in some ways, yes. i appreciate having more access to info, hearing relatable stories, common symptoms/experiences that help me understand things better, etc. close friends with illnesses/disorders are nice, but mostly i know them for other reasons outside of diagnoses.

14. do you find it challenging to tell ppl yr mentally ill?

absolutely

15. what are the most effective coping mechanisms youve found?

im not sure. i just...cope? somehow? not always effectively, but idk.

16. have you ever been to therapy?

ya

if yes, what helped and what didnt help?

i hate group therapy. in individual therapy, i like having my husband sit in on the sessions for support. therapist NEEDS to prompt me and ask active and specific questions. setting clear goals with clear steps helps. a lot of more “creative” methods actually are super unhelpful for me.

17. do "find your happy place" exercises help you or no?

sort of? i don’t try them much. usually they make me sadder that im not there.

18. what are some of the most Tiresome Cliches ppl tell you to deal with yr mental illness (i.e., "just do yoga!")? 

“everyone gets depressed”, “yoga”, “fresh air, sunlight, and exercise!”, “essential oils”, “meditation”, “_______ diet/supplement”, “mind over matter”, “lose some weight” (THIS DOES NOT MEAN NONE OF THESE CAN BE HELPFUL AND I DO WANT TO DO SOME OF THESE THINGS, BUT STATING THE OBVIOUS ABOUT THIS SHIT AND BEING CONDESCENDING IS SO FUCKING ANNOYING)

19. what books / movies have really helped u?

none in this regard

20. what kind of representation would u like to see of mentally ill ppl in media?

idk. better. sympathetic without condescentding, infantilising, or demonising. sympathetic recovery stories, showing a happy ending, but not some “theyre cured” BS

if ur chronically ill:

21. when were you diagnosed (self or professionally)?

asthma - like 4 yrs old, tendonitis - like 13 yrs old, unspecified pain/inflammation - 2019 professionally (like 2011 ish on my own, but really it started when i was ~13), nocturnal epilepsy - not done with diagnosis process/testing as of july 2019, a few chronic infections that don’t affect me any more were diagnosed when i was a kid, idk

22. do you find the support system with other similarly affected ppl to be helpful?

i’ve not been involved much, tried it out, really

23. what do you struggle w most on a daily basis?

pain/inflammation/stiffness in joints, back, neck, shoulders, feet

24. what helps you most?

i wanna say sleep, but it actually makes everything worse so, new diet(anti inflammation), making goals/plans, spirituality, going to healing places like the woods or by the sea or mountains, massage, soft comforting petting from my husband

25. what do you want to tell able-bodied and neurotypical ppl in regards to chronic illness?

it’s not the same. yeah maybe “everyone has back pain”, but my pain and your pain are different; they happen for different reasons and they affect us in different ways. if everyone is in pain we should do something to make life easier for everyone, not dismiss people who are suffering.

26. how do u keep your strength on a daily basis? i dont

27. if yr family supportive?

mostly yeah?

if not, who do you find the most strength and support in, outside of yourself?

my husband, regardless

28. what kind of representation would you like to see of chronically ill ppl in media?

show me people who find creative, easy, free/cheap ways to be comfortable/improve symptoms. do not fucking cure them to make them happy. let them be happy and comfortable by finding new ways to do things, no by erasing their obstacles.

if u have bpd:

29. when were u diagnosed (self or professionally)?

2014, i think? though it was suggested by a therapist in like 2008 or 2009

30. do you think the support system in the community is helpful?

no

31. what are some of the ways you keep yrself grounded and remind yrself to Take a Step Back when bad feelings get in the way of rational thinking?

remind myself other people have autonomy, think about how i would feel if someone reacted to things i was doing the way my brain wants to impulsively react to them, talk talk talk, find something else to do as distraction

32. coping skills?

idfk what they are, they’re just there. usually.

33. how do u keep yrself in check when impulsive mood swings come around?

uh, mostly i covered this in 31. gotta reset focus on something else, find distraction that produces different emotions until mood passes

34. what skills do you use to remind yourself that you are loved?

husband. doesnt always work, but mostly.

35. who has been the most supportive of u?

husband.

36. how has your diagnosis changed the way you view yrself and yr interactions w other ppl?

more mindful of others feelings and needs, esp my mum with BPD

37. what kind of representation would you like to see of ppl w bpd in media?

not fucking abusive/manipulative or miserable. let us struggle but have great supports and practice effective coping skills so we can build stronger relationship bonds and enjoy socializing and/or things that are personally important

all ppl:

38. how do you deal w ableism that comes at you from all directions?

laugh about it with my friends i guess?

39. who in your life is the most supportive of u and yr recovery?

husband

40. who are some people on tumblr who have really helped u in yr journey?

well, i met cieran here. alice has been a good influence. there’s a few of you for sure, though maybe not all specifically for these sorts of things.

41. best coping skills?

i dont know

42. most irritating Ableist Cliches ppl use to tell u yr not good enough?

infantilizing me(comparing me to a child), mocking my productivity/commercial success, “daddy issues”, trying to gaslight me into thinking i’ve been abusive because we disagree on something/i pointed out something they dont like

43. best most supportive thing anyone's said to you? 

“i want to be like you when i grow up”

44. songs for Happy Times?

counting stars, gooey, just about anything by MIKA, most “meme” songs

45. songs for Not-Happy Times?

a lot of hozier, bastille, of monsters and men, rage against the machine, flobots

46. non-triggering movies that discuss mental illness?

im not sure, i know there are some i love that i could list, but none are coming to mind. not a movie but: moomin and most ghibli media, esp kiki’s delivery service.

#long post #mental health #actuallyautistic #chronic illness #borderline personality disorder #about me #idk #shitborderlinesdo

[pop-shocks-remade]

Personal

1- How are you? okay

2- Post a picture of yourself. no

3- Do you ever wish you were someone else? all the time babey

4- What is your entire name? ...

5- How old are you? ...

6- Age you get mistaken for: i get mistaken for the 10-15 range

7- Your zodiac/horoscope and if you think it fits your personality: canerr yes

8- What did you do on your last birthday? minions (9from despicable me))

9- What is one thing you would like to accomplish before your next birthday? be more chill

10- What is your hair color? dark brown

11- Have you ever dyed your hair? when i was like 6

12- What is your eye color? greenish blue

13- If you could change your eye color, would you? no

14- Do you wear contacts/glasses? yeah

15- Your opinion about your body and how confortable you are with it: i dont like it

16- Have you ever considered plastic surgery? What would you alter about your body? no

17- Say 8 facts about your body:short,incredibly thin,ugly, bad teeth, long hair,small hands,idrk what else

18- Do you have any tattoos?no

19- Do you have any piercings?no

20- Left or right handed?rgiht

21- What’s your sexual orientation? pan and maybe ace idrk

22- Do you drink? no

23- Do you smoke? no 

24- Do you have any pets? yeah

25- Where do you work? i dont have a job

26- Something you are working on right now: PETA post

27- Do you have any “rules” about food? no

28- Where are you from? NEW YORK BABEY

29- What would you say is your best quality? people think im kind

30- What do you think you’re really good at? being depressed

31- What do you think you’re really bad at?everything really

32- What talent do you wish you’d been born with? art

33- Are you a bad person? yeah

34- Are you nice to everyone? i try to be

35- Say 3 facts about your personality: sad,lonely,angry

36- Has someone ever spread a nasty rumor about you? no

37- What is your ideal bed? Why? soft. comfy!!

38- Did you wake up cranky? no

39- Do you sleep with a stuffed toy? no

40- What do you think about the most? killing myself

41- Share 2 habits: crying, tapping my hands on my computer to music

42- What you want to be when you “get older”? i dont see myself “getting older”

43- What are your career goals? none

44- What is your ideal career? musician or artist, or FBI or NASA

45- Is your life anything like it was two years ago? no

46- Do you replay things that have happened in your head? yeah :(

47- Have you ever had an imaginary friend? im lonely so i rant to fake versions of my friends so maybe

48- Say 10 facts about your room: dirty, swords and blankets all over, i sleep on the floor,i have a garbage can for sprite exclusivley, boxes all over. idrk what else

49- Do you have any phobias? i dont say my fears

50- Have you ever been to a psychiatrist/therapist? no

51- Are you allergic to anything? If so, what? no

52- Ever broken any bones? no

53- Ever come close to death? all the time babey

54- Things you like and dislike about yourself: nothing, everything

55- A random fact about yourself: i find it strange people like me

56- What are three things most people don’t know about you? sexual orientation, mental state, my likes

57- An unknown fact about your life: im not comfortable sharing the only one i can think of

58- Share something about yourself others might think is weird: im a loner

59- Five weird things that you like: idrk

60- Do you have a facebook? If so, would you add the person who sent you this? no

61- Do you have any pictures on your Facebook? no i dont have one

62- Describe yourself in one word/sentence:im not good at these

63- A quote you try to live by: i tell myself not to be like my past self

64- Leave me a compliment: youre probaly nice

Favorites

65- What is your favorite thing to do? talk to friends

66- What’s your favorite color? prurple

67- What’s your favorite band/singer? gorrilaz

68- What’s your favorite movie? good burger

69- What are your favorite books? the last wild series

70- What is your favorite quote and why? none

71- What is your favorite word? none

72- What is your least favorite word? none

73- What is your favorite type of food? spaghetti

74- Your favorite ice cream? vanilla

75- What’s your favorite animal? axolotl

76- Dogs or cats? both

77- Describe your favourite texture: ??

78- What is your favorite flower? none

79- What’s your favourite scent? And on the opposite sex? anything good

80- What is your favorite season? spring or winter

81- What are the top five places you wish you could go before you die? italy,france,new orleans,canada,australia

82- What are four things you can’t live without and why? idrk

83- Which mythological creature are you most like? Why? idk

84- What’s your favorite television show? steven universe

85- Favorite place to shop at? i dont buy stuff

86- Say 2 facts about your favorite things: i use it to talk to my friends and listen to music Family, childhood and places

i cant really answer most of these so instead of blanking it i just delted it

Friends

101- Would you ever smile at a stranger? yeah

102- Do you prefer to be friends with girls or boys? both??

103- Who is someone you never tire of? nobody really, i love everyone but i need breaks

104- Do you have someone you can be your complete self around? no

105- Who is your most loyal friend? idk

106- Is there anyone you can tell EVERYTHING to? no

107- If your best friend died, what would you do? be more sad

108- A reason you’ve lied to a friend: didnt wanna hurt the,

109- Have you ever felt replaced? all the time babey

110- Say 5 facts about your bestfriend(s):dont have one

Relationships

cant answer most of these, ask them if you really wanna know ((same goes for childhood and family))

Music, movies and books

175- How often do you listen to music? all the time babey

176- What kind of music you like? chill rock music

177- Do you like to dance? alone yes

178- What was the first concert/show you attended? none

179- Have you heard a song that reminds you of someone today? no

180- Share a song that takes you to a certain memory in the past: ...

181- A song that’s been stuck in your head: Room Where it Happens

182- Put your music player on shuffle and write the first ten songs that play:...

183- A book you want to read/have recently read: The Maze Runner

184- Describe your dream library: good books, lots.

185- Last movie you just watched: captain underpants :(

186- Do you like watching what type of movies? horror Situations and crazy things

187- You’re in a tattoo parlor about to get inked. What are you getting done? arm maybe?

189- What’s something you can see yourself going to jail for? weed

190- If you could be any character, from any literary work, who would you choose to be? dave or karkat

191- You’re given $10,000…under one condition: you cannot keep the money for yourself. Who would you give it to?split it to my friends or the poor

192- If you had to go back in time and change one thing, what would it be? undo everything past me did

193- If you were an element on the Periodic Table, which would you be and why? sodium or tellerium, its in the name 

194- If you had to delete one year of your life completely, which would it be? 2016

195- You’re an Action Movie Hero. What’s your weapon of choice and the line you scream when defeating your arch enemy? idk

196- If you could design an amusement park ride, what would it be like? ill disclose a fear: amusment parks, i wouldnt design a ride dawg

197- What is the first curse word that comes to mind? is that a thing that happens to people

198- What the last party you went to was… and when the next will be… my birthday, probaly my birthday

199- Halloween costume idea? idk

200- What are you supposed to be doing right now? nothin really dawg

201- Currently wanting to see anyone? yeah

202- Why you follow me? i dont 

203- If you met me what would you do? have a panic attack

204- Leave me a ridiculous question: no

205- Leave me a cute message: you hot dawg Opinions and beliefs

206- Is the cup half full or half empty for you right now? its typically always empty

207- Do you believe in fate/destiny? no

208- What you wish for on 11:11? to be happy

209- Do you consider yourself lucky? What’s your good luck charm? no, none

210- Do you believe in aliens or life on other planets? YESYESYES

211- What is your religion, if any? i dont disclose this

212- Would you go against your moral code for money? no

213- What’s more important to you: strength of the body or strength of the mind? mind

214- How important you think education is? p important dawg

215- If you were the president, what would you do? alot homie

216- If you could change one thing in the world, what would you change?  stop unreasonable hate

217- Is it the thought that counts? Or is that phrase circumstantial? the thought i guess

218- If you only had 24 hours to live, what would you do? the same as everyday be sad and liosten to musoc

219- Which movie character do you most identify with and why?i dont watch movies

Feelings and Others

220- Are you a procrastinator or do you get things done early? procrastinator

221- Post a photo/draw a picture/write a poem (pick one) of a moment of personal significance: ill just desricbe it: my friend told me someone i wanted to be friend with wanted to be friends with me

222- Say 5 things you love unconditionally: music, HS, my good friends, musicals, art

223- What motivates you in life? people would be upset at me if i killed myself

224- Something that you’re proud of: halexander and roxy fullmetal homestuck follow me

225- Five words/phrases that make you laugh: none

226- Share the story of something that makes you smile: me befrending you guys!!

227- Something you always think “what if…” about: i was dead

228- What was something you used to enjoy, but was ruined for you? What’s the story behind that? my friendships, i learned they were bad people

229- Describe one of the most awkward experiences of your life:every experience is an awkward one

230- Something/someone that you miss:my friends kennedy and ellie

231- Are you over your past? no i still hate it and wanna die because of it

232- What is your saddest memory? all of mine are sad IMO

233- One of the hardest moments in your life: i dont wanan share this

234- Is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about? everything.

235- What’s something you want to do that you’d be embarrassed to tell other people about? tell people i like anime

236- What was your most embarrassing moment? i had a breakdown in math class

237- Share one of your fears/insecurities: no

238- Something you’re currently worrying about: what if my good friends dont like me

239- Have you done something you regret very much? i cant elaborate this enough everythign i regret

240- If you could take something back that you said or did, what would it be? EVERYTHING EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

241- Does anyone hate you? alot of people i assume

242- Do you hate anyone? yeah

243- Are you good at hiding your feelings? yeah

244- What’s something you hide about your personality? sad

245- How do you approach social situations? anxious

246- Are you a social or an antisocial person? antisocial

247- Are you an introvert or an extrovert?introvert

248- Do you care if people talk badly about you? yeah

249- How do you deal with criticism? accept it

250- How you hope your future will be like? dead or not dead and happy

251- What’s something that scares you about the future? ill learn the people i know dont like me

252- Five intems you lust after:what

253- One thing you’re excited for: talking to my friend

254- Describe the most terrifying/strangest/beautiful dream you’ve ever had: i dont remember dreams

255- Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? no

256- Who is your celebrity crush? no 

257- Make a confession: ive almost killed somebody

#longpost #long post #TW #TW SUCIDE

[lit--bitch]

Current-Reads (10/05/2020 - 17/05/2020) 🍎🐔

(Disclosure: Don’t think I know anyone this week (and sadly Édouard Levé is no longer alive) and I don’t know anyone personally working within these publications/presses bc I am a loner, apart from Hobart actually I do know EE from Hobart.) Preface as always: Every Sunday without fail I throw up the freshest literature and photography I’ve read over the week, sometimes it’s a book, or a piece I saw in a magazine or an online zine, maybe it’s something I saw on social media, etc. If I add ‘RECOMMEND’ next to a few of the titles, but that’s not to say I don’t recommend all of them, I just love some pieces more than others. Not everything will be everybody’s cup of tea, yanno, c’est la vie. And any titles that you see in bold are hyperlinked so if you click or tap them they’ll direct you straight to the source… or shopping basket.   I check all the writers and their social media (i.e. I stalk them and their bios) to make sure I absolutely get their pronouns correct, I don’t just blindly assume hes and shes, etc. So in case anyone’s concerned about that, dw I do this shit properly.

This week’s been weird, I’m starting to feel like I’m dissolving a bit. The lockdown feels like culture now. The last time I went to a bar seems like a dream. Some of the work I’ve read over the past few days has compounded this dazed feeling I’ve been having, and I’ve been dipping into a lot of work which was published way before this pandemic hit, like back in September 2019. I’ve been rereading Édouard Levé’s Autoportrait which is one of my favourite books. I’ve been reading a poet I came across in Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Carolee Bennett. I discovered a new writer I’ve fallen hard for, his name’s Richie Hofmann and I’m torn between talking about his recent publication in Hobart and the piece he did in The New Yorker a while back (I guess I’m gonna talk about both), his poetry is so delicate and intimate, it’s like it breathes on the back of your neck. I loved Michael Sutton’s poems on 3:AM Magazine’s Poem Brut series and am now anticipating his next collection. Sarah Cavar’s a complete family / hstry was another piece in 3:AM which I kept reading over and over. 

***

Sarah Cavar’s a complete family / hstry, 3:AM Magazine, (RECOMMEND): The discourse around hysterectomy in writing generally tbh, is very small, practically non-existent. The number of people willing to talk about it outside of a medical, clinical sense is rare. Like abortion, it’s something people don’t talk about, they rarely unpack it in essays or poetry or what have you. It would be kind of obvious to say here that Sarah Cavar’s piece on 3:AM is brave (which of course it absolutely is), because how many people do you know are talking about hysterectomies in the context of trans-identity? But it’s the way they write about this experience, with an enviable, vivid gift for description. Sentences I loved: ‘Blood is a lineage. It begins in the toilet, rings of icing suspended in liquor. [...] The following morning I am discharge with my age-restricted scars [...] ‘The stitches were dissolving; they said goodbye in crimson streams. [...] Finally I told her to leave the room, wrangling my vagina, this traitorous beast’. Another line I love, which is just so powerful, ‘There is something poetic in scarring the site of the umbilical cord. I deny the very people whose (re)productive efforts rendered me possible; upended the dynasty whose heterosexual ehiteness brought them from poverty to vermount and priceless menus.’ It’s articulate and personal and deeply self-aware, and it’s that way from the off. Immediately I was drawn in by that play on words in the title, ‘a complete family / hstry’, hstry playing on history and hysterectomy here. There’s parts to this piece, this self-reflective voice which reminds me of Sontag’s diaries, the way Sarah breaks lines (this is particularly strong in the NOTES — ESSAY ENDING section). They also have a flair for dialogue, a way of pulling a reader into their periphery and having these difficult conversations with family members, wrestling with discomforting terms like ‘ramifications’. The violence of the relationship one has with their body, ravaged by identity. Internalising the reaction from parents whose hopes of becoming grandparents is no longer. As essays go, this is one of the most insightful, articulate and self-aware pieces of transgender literature I’ve ever read. It’s something that myself, I’m not at all equipped to understand, because I don’t share Sarah’s experience, I can’t pretend to believe I even get it. But they write with accessibility and profundity, acknowledging their being as the final sentence in their family tree (what a powerful thing to hold). A writer to watch.

Michael Sutton, poem brut #92 — music / lyrics, 3:AM Magazine (RECOMMEND):  The fusion of note as word and as trebel clef, reinvented into fantastical illustrations. The first piece on here has a ‘creature-ness’ to it, I wonder of the animal in the notes pegged as sheets of music. Some of them feel more like graffiti, and I’m perplexed by what these new lyrics intimate, their renewed musicality in being cut up and stuck elsewhere. These are amazing pieces and I’m anticipating this collection’s release from Hesterglock Press in July.  

Carolee Bennett, ‘Prettier When You Smile’ in Glass Poetry (RECOMMEND): I don’t know how I came across this piece, but it was published two years ago. I hungered for the nostalgia of sitting in a bar and eavesdropping on conversations, as Carolee Bennett does in this poem. Her note about this piece is really interesting, and I wouldn’t have guessed it as a partial collection of fragments from conversations, it kind of wrestles with the subjective voice as commentary and the objective role as listener to these ongoing conversations around her. There’s a solitude to the writing, but it’s not ill at ease with it, it’s comfortable solitude on a bar stool. I really loved this line: ‘The ones we love depart. / We squeeze in and out of anguish / like bees, no opening too small. The hive begins / with single cell. Our vocabulary for this kind of busy work is limited: disease, / disease, disease.’ It’s a really beautiful, complicated cocktail straddling thought and response, and reminds me of a time where we could do that, we could sit in a bar and listen to a human’s hum. And the themes of disease, death and intimacy in ‘Prettier When You Smile’ are more evident and conscious in our minds today, in an ongoing pandemic. Bowie says it best: Planet Earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do. Richie Hofmann, ‘The Romans’ (Hobart) / ‘French Novel’ (The New Yorker) (RECOMMEND): I read Richie’s first piece in Hobart this week and thought it was so delicate and vivid. Then I stalked him a bit and read more of his work. There’s something pre-Raphaelite about his writing, I don’t know if that sounds shitty and pretentious, but I just see his poems are paintings in my head, or even sculptures, like they seem to embody an architecture to them. It’s just the way he reminisces and articulates his lovers; it’s almost metaphysical. ‘French Novel’ in particular I just found fragrant, it’s like I could smell red wine and bedsheets and humidity and snow slush. I can sense the texture. And then ‘The Romans’ had a movement and a colour to it I could just see and feel. He has a flair for articulating scenery; as a reader, I’m in his eyes and I’m absorbing every detail. I could feel this new lover wafting the Polaroid, the shake. The tangibility of his memories is so potent, you feel as if you’re there, not as a witness but actually within the experience. 

Édouard Levé, Autoportrait (RECOMMEND): I started reading Édouard Levé just over a year ago, and it was in this tumultuous episode of my life where I wasn’t really writing. If I did, I was forcing myself, and living in London was making me feel really depressed, although I now wonder whether that was more because of my MA and not the city. Édourd Levé was the best thing I got out of my course, and he came at a specific juncture when I was trying to understand how I could merge writing into photography, without taking photographs. I was investigating that relationship between the written and the visual. Autoportrait is a photo album in sentences. It’s a portrait of Édouard Levé himself, who committed suicide in 2007. He crafts this text masterfully, each sentence is like the shutter firing inside a camera, capturing an image, a new angle to his personage. For that reason it’s an intensely personal read. He oscillates between memories in time within the act of writing as memory, there’s a kind of meta-ness to it, a cubist quality to the text as a whole. He doesn’t start with his birth to his current present, rather the structure of the work is a series of non-sequiturs, a stream of consciousness stuck between frames. Sentences are mostly short, the longer you read, the more investigative and analytical it feels, into a forensic analysis of what makes Édouard, Édouard. It’s a book I go back to all the time, and the more I replay this series of images, the more unreadable it becomes. It’s also particularly surreal and disconcerting reading it now, as an artefact of Édouard Levé when he was alive. There is a coldness to his voice, a dismissiveness, and from the off it’s clear that his mental disposition, his depression, is a huge force in his life, the central focus to which all his perceptions, his affirmations, his unbothered demeanour seems to emerge from. The acuity of his self-description is pained by disconnection to the world around him, and that’s synonymous with the way he articulates himself in  disconnected fragments. It’s one of those books you can read once and walk away from, but it leaves you altered and dazed, like the way you feel after watching a strange film in a dark cinema, returning to daylight. And since I picked up that text to read in class, Édouard Levé’s always stayed with me. 

***

That is everything from me for this week. I will be taking next week away to read Ariana Reines’s A Sand Book. It’s a big one and it’s gonna take me some time to read and think and write about it. I’ve also figured out that the quality of my reviews will generally be better if I give myself more time to sit down and think, so I’m going to be posting my reviews now every other Friday as opposed to every Friday (or around then, past couple of weeks it’s been on Sats and Suns). My reviews do border on being full blown essays, and they take a lot of time to put together because I prefer to go into detail. Obviously I can’t keep generating these big pieces in a week turnaround at a quality I’m happy with, that was always going to be too ambitious of me. BUT I don’t think Current-Reads will change, because I’m always reading small bits throughout the week anyway, and I’m happy to keep doing that every Sunday still. 

NOTE TO WRITERS I AM REVIEWING: If I’ve said I’ll review your work and given you a date for when that review will be, that will still be the date I’ll review your work for. It won’t change. Scout’s honour. 

#litbitch #review #currentreads #currently reading #sarahcavar #3ammagazine #michaelsutton #poembrut #caroleebennett #glassjournal #richiehofmann #hobart #thenewyorker #edouardleve #autoportrait #writing #reading #minireviews

[chimchimchoo]

Sightless :: 9

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 2,514

Pair: Yoongi x Jimin

Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 (of 13)

“On a typical Saturday, a near-fatal accident destroyed his eyesight.

Now Park Jimin feared Saturdays. Whether it was the most beautiful, clear day out or a rough, raging storm. Every Saturday, he would go into hiding, away from the world, away from any danger.

But then Min Yoongi shows up, picking up the little pieces of life Jimin lost and tries to show him that Saturdays can be, in fact, the safest day of the week.”

A/N: Every chapter switches perspectives, the name of that person (Jimin/Yoongi) will be in bold before the start of the chapter.

YOONGI

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Just give me another minute.” He breathed heavily, clutching against the wall. “I’ve never gone this far before.”

“You’ve been standing there for an hour now. Don’t force yourself if you’re not ready.”

“No, I want to do this.”

Yoongi stood outside of the apartment as he watched Jimin stand at the doorway, shivering. Earlier this morning while Yoongi was making tea for them, Jimin suddenly spoke up and decided it was time for him to try to go outside. Yoongi almost spilled the hot water in response; he thought he would never hear him say such words on a Saturday.

The cold wind blew through the outdoor hall of the apartment complex, making Yoongi shudder through his thick layer of winter clothes. Earlier, when he first opened the door, Jimin screamed and hid in his bedroom, as Yoongi tried to console him, reminding him it was just the wind coming in. Thinking that Jimin had fallen entirely back to square one, Yoongi sighed of relief when he watched the boy eventually exit his room, approaching the front door.

Concentrating on him take a deep, shaky breath, Jimin moved so slowly, Yoongi thought he was watching a slow motion film. His foot landed just outside of the door, and then the other.

“You made it outside.” Yoongi grinned widely, the fluttery feeling of pride and excitement tickling inside of his stomach. Inch by inch, Jimin moved himself closer toward him. “I’m not going to get hurt, I’m not going to get hurt.” He repeated to himself and stopped just centimeters in front of him.

“Jimin you…you’re facing your fear. You’re standing outside of your apartment on a Saturday.” Tears dripped down Jimin’s cheeks as Yoongi lifted a hand, wiping them away with his thumb. “I’ve never been more proud of you.”

It took a lot of time, but Yoongi watched the timid young figure grow braver within each passing Saturday, willing to try, willing to face his fears. He couldn’t explain the feeling bubbling inside of him when he watched him take new steps, to push forward.

“Do you want to try moving a little further?”

Jimin quickly shook his head. “I want to stay here for a bit. I’ll only go this far.”

“You have all the time in the world.” He tightened the scarf around Jimin’s neck, making sure the cold air wouldn’t seep through the fabric and ruffled his pumpkin hair.

Yoongi stood beside him for what felt like forever until Jimin decided he was far too cold to stand outside and pulled Yoongi in with him.

“Um, Jimin, why are you taking me to the bathroom?” He asked as they entered the small cubicle, watching Jimin feel around for the sink with a smile.

“You’re helping me with my fears, so I’m helping you with yours.”

“What do you mean exactly?”

“Look in that mirror right there and name 5 things you love about yourself.” He pointed toward the mirror in front of them as Yoongi caught a quick glimpse of his own reflection before looking back at him.

“I don’t know Jimin…this isn’t-“

“Please just do this. For me? For yourself. I want to help you.”

With furrowed eyebrows, Yoongi moved his gaze back toward the mirror, the same pair of eyes staring right back at him. He looked away for a moment, disgusted by what he saw but glanced back again. His mint hair was frizzy and untamed from the humidity; the tip of his nose grew pink from the cold air. His eyes were so dark, they look like black beads and his natural expression seemed to always carry a frown.

“I love…the music I make.” He began, but his voice was flat and his expression didn’t change. There was no affection in the tone. “I love my mint hair. I love my shirt.”

He stopped at three, unable to find any more compliments for himself. Jimin leaned up and whispered a few sentences in his ear as Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I love how I became friends with this blind guy.” Yoongi said with sarcasm. “And finally, I love my sarcasm.”

Jimin broke into a laugh, satisfied with the results. “Very good, we’ll try adding one more compliment to it another day.” He pat Yoongi’s shoulder before walking out of the bathroom without a word. For a few more seconds, Yoongi observed his face in the mirror before turning around with an unsatisfied grunt.

----------

Many Saturdays passed. Seeing that the semester was starting to come to an end, Jimin took more and more steps away from his apartment. At one point, he even made it to the first floor, but as soon as walked out and accidentally bumped into a child, Jimin fell into a panic and hid in his room for the rest of the day. But after a short talk with Yoongi and spending the majority of the day convincing himself that he was okay, he found the courage to try it again and got as far as the sidewalk at the very end of the apartment complex.

He sat on the curb and pressed a hand on the cold pavement of the street. There were no cars for it was nearly 4 am, but Jimin wanted to learn that the street was harmless. The texture of the pavement reminded him of the moment he was dragged out of the car, lying against the street as a voice comforted him. But he didn’t feel scared at the thought. He felt thankful. That man had saved him.

Eventually, Yoongi took Jimin to campus and sat in the music room for an hour working on the project for their final. Yoongi could read Jimin’s expression, knowing that he was stressed being this far from the apartment, but he gave his hand a comforting squeeze, reminding him that they were safe.

Yoongi on the other hand, stood in a bathroom every day and added one more compliment to his existing list of things he loved about himself. One day, when he told his reflection that he loved how pathetic his face was, there was a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. From then, it got easier for him to stare into his own eyes.

But what Yoongi struggled to accept was that painfully mushy, weird feeling in his chest whenever he laid his eyes on Jimin. It grew worse every time they came face to face but he tried his absolute hardest to ignore it. There was no reason he needed to confront Jimin about it. There was no reason he needed to accept the cold, hard reality that he utterly and completely fell for him if Jimin wasn’t going to feel the same.

Right?

“Here’s your tea.” Yoongi set down the pen after busily scratching music notes on the lined paper, struggling to find inspiration for a composition, and collected the mug from Jimin. They were at it nearly the entire day; the music sheet was due tomorrow, ending the semester with their biggest final project yet.

Jimin sat closely beside him, almost too close to send Yoongi’s heart racing, but he never complained. “How much more do you need to write? We got about two minutes down, right?”

“We need to add three more minutes, this could take us all night.  ” Yoongi groaned, massaging his temples, praying that his slowly growing headache would go away.

“Can’t we take a break?” Jimin whined. “I’ve been playing the piano for hours, my fingers are tired.” Yoongi watched as Jimin begged with a pouty face. He thanked himself that Jimin couldn’t see him frowning, turning his head away from him. After the phone call he received yesterday, he struggled to focus on the task at hand.

“Mom? Why are you calling?”  

“Hello Yoongi, can’t your mother call just to check up on you?”

“There’s usually something you need from me. What do you want?” Yoongi replied bitterly, wanting her to get to the point. His relationship with his parents wasn’t exactly the strongest thing in the world. They fought and and disagreed on a lot of his personal choice and opinions on things growing up. He wanted to major in music, they argued that it was an unrealistic career and suggested that he’d get into a medical school instead because it was his father’s dream that he could never accomplish. Now he was stuck in a business room for hours a day with a suit and briefcase, filing papers and attending meetings. Yoongi promised himself that he’d leave for a university in Seoul as soon as he got accepted and pursue his dreams.

But it wasn’t as easy as he thought. His parents kicked him into a medical school for the past three years, but when Yoongi finally cracked from the stress, he ran away to Seoul, secretly applied to a different university and changed his major. He hadn’t spoken to his parents since then.

“You need to come back home.” His mother stated coldly. “Your father had fallen ill and cannot take care of the financial situation. We need you to come home and take over his job.”

His face grew pale. “You really think I’m just going to drop everything, my dreams and my future just to go back to Daegu and trap myself in his little business cubicle? Why can’t you just ask your favorite older son to do it for you? He still lives with you.”

“Your brother went off to the military last month, honey.”

“What? He went to the military and you didn’t bother to tell me?” Yoongi’s voice rose in anger.

“We tried calling you but you kept ignoring all of our calls. We had no choice but to send him off without you.” Yoongi didn’t reply, his mouth forming a thin line. “Anyway, you don’t have much of a choice Yoongi. I’ve already notified your university that you’ll be taking a break for a while. We need you back here in a month or I’m cutting off your sources. You know I have my connections. I’ll mail you the train tickets.”

“You did what ?” Now Yoongi was angry, very angry. The line went dead and Yoongi redialed the number, waiting for her to answer. Instead, it went straight to her voicemail. With an angry shout, Yoongi tossed the phone on the bed and paced across his bedroom.

She was going to cut off his money, make him lose his own place if he didn’t return. His mom even dropped him out of university. How the hell did she even find out where he went to?

Yoongi’s mother was a person he truly feared, if he had to pick anyone. She made connections with so many people, she knew how to control just about anyone and make them bow to their knees for her. Yoongi never spoke about about his family to Jimin, but it was best if he remained that way.

The less he thought about his family, the better off he was.

“We don’t really have the time to take a break, Jimin.”

“Come on, please? Let’s dance again! I missed dancing!” Jimin bolted up from the floor, grabbing Yoongi’s hands. “Put on a song, any song.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi gave in and took out his phone, putting it on shuffle. The battery was dying, he noticed, four percent. “Okay, we’re only doing it until the phone dies, and then it’s back to work.”

“Deal!” Jimin squealed as a pop song came on, dancing and stomping across living room in pure joy. “Come on Yoongi!” He held his arms out, waiting for the figure to approach him. With a laugh, Yoongi watched in admiration as he happily bounced across the living room before striding up to Jimin, breaking out into the most embarrassing dance he could think of. Thankfully, Jimin couldn’t see it, but he still laughed at him anyway. “I never knew you had it in you, Yoongi.”

“Oh you shut up.” Yoongi playfully scowled, growing out of breath from the sudden burst of energy he didn’t think he had. The song eventually ended, automatically playing the next one that happened to be a classical. As of on cue, Yoongi slung an arm around Jimin’s lower back, taking his hand with the other. Grinning, Yoongi smiled as he watch Jimin’s eyes turn into crescents and slowly swayed their bodies across the apartment, step by step.

Yoongi wanted to curse at himself. His hands were clammy and his heart was pounding. He was so close to Jimin, too close. But at the same time, he just wanted to stand there and hold him forever, his arms wrapped around him, his nose nuzzled into his pumpkin hair. Just having Jimin entirely to himself. Did that make him greedy?

“Thank you.” Jimin suddenly blurted.

“What for?”

“Everything.” He began. “For helping me get over my fears, for trying to understand me. You came over almost every day after the first Saturday you saw me and made sure I wasn’t lonely or never hurt myself although I know my way around the apartment like the back of my hand.” They took a few steps forwards, a few more backwards. Their bodies danced in sync as if they were one. “You’ve helped me improve faster in the past semester than the two whole years it took me to do it on my own. So, thank you, Min Yoongi.”

“Oh well, I was just…you’re welcome.” He didn’t know what else he could say, he was too engrossed in staring into his colorless eyes that never looked right into Yoongi’s. The song came to an abrupt end, assuming the phone must have died, but they stopped dancing long before that.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked, observing Jimin’s unusual gesture. He was dead silent, his face making the strangest expression that was neither fear nor confusion. His eyes grew big, his jaw clenched tightly. It seemed as if he was having an internal debate of some sort. Yoongi leaned closer, their noses inches away as he lightly shook his shoulder. “Jimin?”

There was no warning. Jimin quickly leaned forward, his eyes closed as he gently pressed his lips against Yoongi’s. He didn’t quite make it, as he got the corner of his mouth, but it was only for a short moment. Yoongi responded with widened eyes in surprise as Jimin bit his lip nervously, his ears growing red.

“Why are you so quiet?” Jimin asked nervously. “What are you thinking? Should I have not done that? I’m sorry. I don’t know what was thinking. I won’t do it again.”

“No, Jimin, I-“ He was abruptly cut off by the ringing of the phone in Jimin’s pocket.

“Sorry, I gotta get this.” He pulled it out and answered it with a light greeting. “Yes, this is Jimin.” He nodded into the phone for a few moments until his expression froze in shock, his face slowly turning pale. “What did you just say?”

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bangtan fanfic #yoongi x jimin #yoonmin #fluff #angst #bts imagine #yoongi fanfiction #allifanfic #jimin fanfiction #sightless #blind!jimin #jimin #yoongi

[metarot]

Side note – Josh is ambiguously ill – he’s potentially schizophrenic, potentially not; obviously sick, yes, but with? He’s an inherently, intrinsically, fundamentally disturbed man/person; his dreams are more or less play-by-play snap-recollections of traumatic and/or traumatizing events/memories; the death of his mother, sustained and prolonged physical/emotional abuse – a tragic etc.etc.etc – a sort of perfect storm and concoction of various so and so issues that express themselves in a passingly/cursory sadism and machoism that can only be really described as edging; a sort of halfway-gratifying externalization of deeply internalized thoughts and feelings that does, eventually, lead to his ultimate “demotion”

Rye

From: [email protected] (you) To:[email protected] CC:

Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re(…) daily journal and/or note-to-self anthology (sp?)

04-19-2004

just because i dont say it dosent mean i dont think it

i feel more than i am on the outside a tired and slow procession of empty emotion and really if I were to choose a word to describe how and as i am it would be that -- tired literally metaphorically fundamentally i am a dead man barley half-way brought back to life (re: Lazarus) very weakly trying to claw his way back into a familiar grave (cliché yes true yes -- if its been said before why does or does it not (?) matter if it’s true?) -- anyway to the real (real? Intended? actual?? what should I say here that i do S(dont) not?) message tucked and buried in this mess (im a mess and i know it – what the wall said) -- i am lost and there isnt a way out and im sorry and no matter how i try i cant and what has so been eloquently described to me as a quote downward spiral endquote (“”) has or has recently caught up to me (the ground at the bottomless pit more like) and i have finally taken the time out of my already very busy day as you know to finally notice and yes what many would call quote giving up endquote (“”) or quote submitting to a self-subscribed fate endquote (“”)  and acknowledge that yes my time here is up and i cannot stay for much longer if any time at all and to punctuate or maybe exclamate(sp?) my point not all who wander are lost but I sure am and what started as a confident march ends in a whimpering limp through a deep dark that i cannot see thru

i wont say goodbye but im obligated to say thanks anyway

Josh’s Word of The Day: -- for you especially:

bit·ter·sweet

ˈbidərˌswēt/, adjective

1. (of food, drink, or flavor) sweet with a bitter aftertaste.

·         arousing pleasure tinged with sadness or pain.

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

CC: [email protected]  

Subject: daily journal and/or note-to-self anthology (sp?) (01-01-2000)

You’ve very prudently (if I can say that about such an early judgement call) asked me to, in your words, “voice in plain language”, as a more-or-less new-year’s resolution, what’s “keeping me down”; it’s not a short listed, and I feel compelled to (at the very least) forewarn you that I’m not a necessarily happy person (but you’re here to help that, so it’s fine(?), I guess).

I don’t like fluorescent light or, even, the word itself -- it reminds me of a pale sick-green tinge and pallor in my skin exclusively; sitting in an office chair, stare-spinning into the chalky, plaster-and-plastine(sp?) ceiling with those admittedly gross bright-yellow-almost-grey god forsaken fluorescent lights that make me and my weirdly-high cheekbones and thin ash-skin look more gaunt and corpselike than they and I already do not withstanding or considering what little, balding black hair I have does nothing to alleviate an admittedly freighting and death-like air that I have

They’re on the bus, the trains, my office and my house -- they’re cheap, not really very technical appliances that need to be oft replaced or serviced but my god do they give me the worst headaches and work more than/as nothing other than a reminder that I’m the primary auxiliary character in some avant-garde art film that pans and zooms and fisheyes a little too close to the face of some glum, doleful, sagging and sad average-looking middle-aged man or woman with shadows cast long over their point, sharp eyebrows and acne-ridden, bony jaws that accentuates this awful feeling of discomfort and hunger and rot that I can’t help but feel that that isn’t the general impression they were going for in the first place

I guess I just don’t like feeling nauseous or uncomfortable (I sincerely doubt many people do at all -- maybe some special color or flavor of masochistic deviant -- but I digress) -- for some reason, physiological or psychological, I think there’s something poking and sticking out of my stomach and my intestines that’s hot and solid yet liquidly-fine like molten iron or steel that seeps in and out of my ulcers (That I know I have for a medically proven fact); I can’t say if its bile or blood but I do know that if I don’t eat for a period of some days (which I usually don’t – food makes me want to violently vomit/throw up and the  thought of anything mildly warm or cold in me, my mouth, or otherwise is enough to reduce me to a manic mess (if im not already one)) it (the bloodbilemetal feeling, that is) gets almost intolerably worse and I honestly only eat or drink anything at this stage to keep me from passing out from the pain and mental malaise of knowing that something is there that I can’t personally account for or take responsibility as to or of; I’ve quite literally almost taken a sharp, pointed needle or small, swiss-army like knife and punctured the little pouch of belly fat that sits over my atrophied once-athletic abdomen to bleed myself of this “bad blood” and restore my “balance of humors” like a  sick and (by modern standards) barbaric doctor from some long- forgotten, dark century where it honestly wouldn’t be the worst thing to have some diseased, plague-ridden piece of dirty metal jammed into you if it meant that you’d at least die in a few months and not physically feel your body suffer through mortal agony for or years or weeks on end knowing that you’d essentially be subject to the same net-effect of nonexistence either way

Im sorry and thanks for your time, I’ll write to you soon

Many more to come, (and yours truly),

Josh

Josh’s Word of the Day:

pipe dream, noun

1.       an unattainable or fanciful hope or scheme.

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

CC: [email protected]  

Subject: Re:Re:Re(…) daily journal and/or note-to-self anthology (sp?)

07-15-2002

Im sorry im sorry im soryr im soryy?

I needed badly to get that out of my system really – this past year and the year before and the year before has been one very large and scary exponentially-progressively worse and worse train wreck that I can’t stop and I don’t think that I can anymore

I dream only of and in words at this stage – anything that is concretely visual or outside of hearing/” experiencing” language is/are very vague and very brief images of what I think I remember my very very late mother looking somewhat maybe like – atmosphere is tense and I feel a very pungent and precise feeling of regret each time I wake up

I’ve noticed that lately my thoughts have become markedly more dark and have assumed what could-be(?) described as self-harming in nature; I’ll blink, pause (for what feels far too long for a normal – is there a scientific standard for a normal, decidedly subconscious bodily function?) and think about jamming a nail under my big toenail and kicking a door or wall very hard or peeling my eyelids off with tweezers or drilling big, metal screws into my shins

i don’t know if it’s because i burn myself with wax or compulsively pick at my skin but I feel a very distinct urge to poke and prod and see how far and much pain I can take all in one go just to make sure that I still feel something other than cold and nothing or a little bit of both at the same time

Sometimes when im on the bus or train I feel like jumping out of a window or running headlong into an oncoming train/bus/both –I wonder honestly what dying might feel like and im afraid that if and when I find out it’ll be more of the same and I’ll have gone through all that pain and effort for nothing and die full of regret and realize ive done and been too little too late and die during my already-underway death from disappointment and a broken heart – i don’t know if very many likeable or normal people think of jumping from windows (which, I feel compelled to and should add my new office’s 6th story has a single thinly-paned sliding-glass-door-esque window situated right over and above the freeway and I can say that from the time ive spent after-hours wandering floor to floor desk to desk wall to wall back-and-back again it’s the only actually functional window I’ve found in the entire 200-foot-something building; its weirdly convenient and more so weirdly alluring)

i look like ive lost more weight and that’s not a bad thing I don’t think – I can almost just see all of my ribs and the grainy sand-like grit and texture of my bones through my beautifully paper skin and each day I feel like im getting closer and closer to what god is and what god has wanted me to be all along; im a little self-conscious about how big and disproportionate my head looks on my spiny, spindly pencil-thin neck and how frail my knocky elbows and knees are but i cant eat even if I try so really why even make the effort if you know that you’re just going to make it more painful in the long run (why do anything if you know none of it matters deep down?)

anyways thanks again and for everything so far – I’ll write you soon I really hope

josh

Josh’s Word of the Day:

ex·fo·li·ate

eksˈfōlēāt/, verb

1.                   (of a material) come apart or be shed from a surface in scales or layers.

"the bark exfoliates in papery flakes"

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

Subject: FWD: Concerning Josh Haag -- Incident

09-09-2001

Management,

          As the Chief of California Operations I believe this to be a concerning note for one Joshua Haag, a System Admin of ours. Read full details from our HR department below, but it is in fact my decision to demote him. Our company health insurance would not cover mental health service, but we would strongly recommend it to him if he stays apart of the MC family.

Any concerns, please leave a direct reply.

Lucas Shaw

Chief of California Operations at MiddleCorp™, 12380 E. Dorchester St. Silicon Valley CA, 94087

----------forwarded message----------

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

Subject: Concerning Josh Haag Incident

09-02-2001

Mr Shaw,

          In the company it is our policy to notify management of any disturbing notes from HR. Yesterday the Human Resources Department ran into a rather upsetting matter. System Administrator Joshua Haag was found hanging by his neck on a rafter in the second story bathroom by saleswoman Martha Stein. ([email protected]) Various coworkers of Josh ran in and thankfully saved him. We are not sure as to why he would resort to such drastic measures, especially on company property. This email is simply meant to inform you, as it is management’s decision as for Josh’s future with the company. Personally I do not recommend we keep him on our Administration. Anyone aware of the situation is very uncomfortable, especially those working directly under Mr. Haag.

If you require any more information, please let me know.

Pam Lancaster, MiddleCorp™ Human Resources Department, 12380 E. Dorchester St. Silicon Valley CA, 94087

From: [email protected] (you) To:[email protected] CC: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Re(…) daily journal and/or note-to-self anthology (sp?)

09-03-2001

Im not even going to look him in his (eye??) eyes – hes a disgustingly handsome awfully beautiful awful person and what -- honestly is the comparison and competition between a ratty once-been systems administrator who cant help but feel absolutely threated by “a higher existence”

Its absolutely the last straw – they’re obviously trying to phase me and only me out of their godforsaken system and I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT

Im sorry if I’ve (or, my messages, in reality) are coming off a bit more frantic and disjointed than they usually do – ive been experimenting with a hypno-sedative cocktail-concoction and I have noticed that its more effective at keeping me awake for days on end than it actually is at getting me to sleep (and stay there/like that) in the first place – the stress of potentially, no, not even, not losing my job, no, voluntarily as a screw-you kind of message and metaphorically speaking finger-giving finale leaving this awful awful awful no-good we-only-let-the-pretty-ones-to-be-in-the-cubicles is just too much not EVEN considering that there is a very messy personal element involved now that i NEED with a very LARGE and BIG emphasis on NEED to tell you about

One of the older, huskier, more dead-and-defeated looking edge-of-middle-age blondes of the office (her name is probably some shade of Cheryl or Sherry) – the kind that always makes me wonder that in 10 or 20 or never if I’ll get married or settle down like all these thick-jawed, broad-faced, ugly-but-not men of the universally consistent late 20s/30s or will I die alone burning and melting the circuits of a server like the man-rat that I am – the bathrooms on the 2nd floor aren’t marked, and since today has really been bad enough before the incident I resolved/more like decided to more-or-less hang myself with my already tried and true very strong leather belt that I wear for one reason only – really awful terrible days like today especially

So there I am, the boy genius extraordinaire, hanging from the unfurnished ceiling, tied and strung on and under a steel rafter, in a very very (what you would believe) compromising position when the aforementioned Cheryl-Sherry walks proudly in like she owns the single, poorly cleaned stall (without knocking, I should mention, WHICH IS A CORPORATE POLICY), screams really too loudly, runs out red-faced with streaks (more like streams) of thickly applied makeup and mascara running down and over her pouch-y cheeks and once-pretty knobby double-ish chin and before I know whats happening (I was more concerned with my pants being down near my ankles than anything) im being dragged across this dirty bathroom floor to “safety away from myself” and being crocodile-cooed by all these poorly sympathetic people and I HONESTLY can barely stand the thought of thinking of remembering something as legitimately horrifying as today has been or ever will be(?)

Talk to you soon,

From: [email protected]

(you) To: [email protected]  CC:

Subject: Emails (Sep. 4th, 2001)

Stop sending these to me.

Yours Truly,

Dr. Robert G. Anderson, Licensed (pending) Psychiatric ProfessionalTM at and by the Internet's BestTM  Online Resource for Emotional Counseling - opensourcepsych.org

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: open when alone

09-05-2001

That ratty nerd in the back? I didn’t know he was an admin... LOL not like it matters anymore :P And yeah I’ll see you there, 6pm ;)

Peter Alcazar

Salesman at MiddleCorp™

12380 E. Dorchester St. Silicon Valley CA, 94087

----------original message----------

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

Subject: open when alone

Did you hear about that guy trying to hang himself in the bathroom? Haha looks like he finally figured out that nobody likes him LOL. Anyways, you still on for dinner tonight?

Sigourney Yagey, Saleswoman at MiddleCorp™, 12380 E. Dorchester St. Silicon Valley CA, 94087

From: [email protected] ( (you) To: [email protected] (CC:  [email protected]  

Subject: Re:Re:Re:(…) daily journal and/or note-to-self anthology (sp?) (11-18-2001)

I started dreaming again, on very sudden and short notice, and I can’t say im a fan – there’s nothing there for me at all

Tonight’s episode started just above my chest cavity; cue opening credits and a brief roll of the cast and I can feel the bony knot just above-and-to-the-right of my sternum brush and squeeze against something cold and hard and the smooth ridge and cleft of my leftmost ribs catches on a sharp angle and the pain is something what you’d think literally “bone-crushing” would feel like; its dark, and each shufflestep I take im further and further from where I should be but do not want to and the closer and the louder my everything threatens to break I smell toothpaste and mold in an old air conditioning system and plastic from cheap toys and feel silky warm smokeair move through and over my fingers and cold cold toes and there it is – me and my mom, my mom and I – she’s crying into her arms and hunched back and so is her wife at the counter of the clinic and im too interested in the green-blue-turquoise wall behind them that bleeds numbers to ask or wonder for too long why

I feel like im sometimes-usually drowning in my emotions but thats like drinking too much water when you’re stuck in a desert somewhere in an unbelievably god awful awful place

I should have loved my brother more -- I should have done a lot of things better than I have or have done -- I should have realized that I am short lived but my problems are more so  -- Im done for tonight, I know you’re only contractually and not legally or financially obligated to reply to anything I send you but please please please please just tell me even if you’re lying that things might just be ok

Josh’s Word of the Day:

com·punc·tion, noun

1.       a feeling of guilt or moral scruple that follows the doing of something bad.

[sonodaten]

Personal Write-Up of the 5/10 for Mass Effect: Andromeda

I know I promised this a while ago, but I just finished my second playthrough last night because I wanted to make sure I covered everything.

TL;DR: Mass Effect: Andromeda, though extremely fun to play, runs into A LOT of problems when it came to writing and plot. Spoilers under the cut.

Let’s start with the good. 

- The updated combat system is phenomenal and works very well in the latest installment. It reminded me a lot of the Fate system from Kingdoms of Amalur:  Reckoning with the synthesis of pre-existing classes and the ability for you to change your profiles on the fly while in battle (and having a favorites system to allow you to switch your profile and selected abilities). For me, this really allowed flexibility and adaptation while encountering enemies over the course of a long firefight. The barrier I was using for cover gets destroyed? No problem; just switch over to the Explorer profile and use the combat barricade to make my own. A high-powered enemy just appeared? Change profiles to Tech specialist and bolster myself and my party members to eviscerate armor. I was skeptical when I first heard about the jump jets and the inclusion of hovering as a way to maneuver about the battlefield, but it really is a good way to flush out enemies who are camping behind cover and force them into your party members’ (or sometimes your party members forcing them!) line of fire.

- For the levelling system in general, I was really happy with the abilities they gave the party members, especially the ones that can be used to bolster yourself and other party members. I never felt like I was wanting for ability points to spend. If anything, for the amount of ability points we were given, I felt like there just weren’t enough abilities to use them on. Once you achieved loyalty with your party members and upgraded their skills to level 6, they levelled and just had more ability points that couldn’t be spent on anything. Maybe the devs intend to add more if there’s DLC planned for the future? That’d be nice to see.

- Of course, with Frostbite, the level designs are absolutely gorgeous, if a bit choppy with loading times (even on my PS4 Pro, some textures took a good minute or so to load up). And the devs really went out of their way to increase exploration not only horizontally, but vertically as well. I am still slightly miffed that they saved the best and hands down the most beautiful world--Meridian--till the very end where you just haphazardly tear through it in the Nomad, and even after defeating the Archon, you never actually get to explore it, just look enviously out a window at the world you only scratched the surface of (literally) but can’t touch anymore.

- The one good thing I’ll say about the writing is that it managed to maintain the kind of humor (mostly in dialogue) I’ve come to expect from the writers over at BioWare. I’ll even admit they even got me to laugh out loud a couple times.

And now the bad.

- For me, personally, it felt like Andromeda was supposed to feel completely new. That you through the PC were going to be exploring worlds that had never been touched by human hands before, see stars that we’ve never seen before, and encounter species that we could never have imagined possible before now. And for a single glorious moment in the prologue, during your ill-fated expedition to Habitat 7, we did. We explored a world that was totally and completely knew, threw everything we thought we knew was possible against a wall, our time spent exploring allowed us to have extra dialogue that expanded upon what we were seeing and it’s implications, and we stumbled upon a mystery:  the kett and the Remnant. And then it never fucking happened again. Exploration was rewarded with a few bits of new dialogue for the PC and your present party members, but could never be brought up in dialogue or decision making. Worlds we were exploring had been already been trampled by humans before; we already knew what we were expecting. Which leads me to my next point:

- The story started way too fucking late. If the writers had wanted to give their players a sense of newness, the whole thing with the Arks being late and the Nexus rebellion, and the exiles ruined that feeling. I understand where they were trying to go--first contact was ruined by these “exiles” and their bad behavior and now you have to convince the local alien populace (which is literally just the angara? I have a whole other thing about them, just wait) that #NotAllHumans on top of trying to carve out a niche in this new and unfamiliar galaxy which, by the way, was not the job you were trained extensively for like your father. But it just completely overshadowed and took away the rush of being on the bleeding edge of a new galaxy. We missed finding these planets raw and uncut, we missed out on that absolute rush and giddiness of exploring new planets for the very first time because there was no point. People had already explored them. We were just retracing somebody else’s steps, but doing it better because we had an AI in our heads that could read Remnant. You get to the Nexus for the first time and tell everybody that Habitat 7 was a bust? Well, meh, everything was already shit before, so there’s no real impact to finding out one of the golden worlds was a dud. It would have been much more effective to start as the Initiative was initially intended to start. Ark Hyperion reaches Habitat 7; it’s a bust and your dad dies and makes you Pathfinder. You return to the Nexus, full of groggy but hopeful workers who are just so excited to see one of the Arks return with news about one of their golden worlds--one of the places they could potentially be calling home in Andromeda. And you just drop the bomb on the Initiative leadership:  it was a dud and your Pathfinder is dead. And then Nexus leadership drops the next bomb:  the other Arks haven’t shown and they can’t locate them. So then there’s the question of what you do to go from there:  do you tell the people the truth, maintaining transparency but potentially inciting panic, or do you lie to them, keeping them hoping for a home that might never come? You still retain the tension of having to find a home for the people on the Nexus and the Hyperion, but you aren’t stuck having to retrace somebody else’s footsteps. Or fix something somebody else has already broken. It’s all new.

- Andromeda is awfully empty. I mean species-wise. There are hundreds of planets and a ton of systems to explore, but there’s a devastating lack of alien life. I’m a little rusty because it’s been a while since my last astronomy class, but I think the Milky Way is like 3 billion something years younger than Andromeda? Or maybe that’s just arm formation? Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that the Milky Way has shown to be home to at least 8 (that I think of off the top of my head) different, civilized alien species, but Andromeda only has . . . 2. And one of them is not even from the galaxy, but conquerors from another. So, one native, sentient species:  the angara. Were there other species before, but they fled the galaxy to escape the Scourge? Did the angara ever have trade or alliances with other species, but any Unless so, it was pathetic to try and pass off that a galaxy with as many systems and planets available as Andromeda is home to literally only one other intelligent species until the kett invaded. I’m sorry, but it was just lazy. If they come back and say that the other species were exalted by the kett and records of it were lost because of the Scourge, maybe I’ll forgive them. Probably not, but maybe.

- The Remnant. Or specifically, Ryder/SAM’s ability to interact with Remnant technology. First of all, the Remnant are adorable and I hate that there’s not dedicated stealth system to sneak around them because I hate having to destroy them. Throughout the plot, SAM has been accessing Remnant consoles via Ryder’s omni-tool (at least, from the game, that’s what I assume is happening). But then once you find Meridian, and the Archon severs your connection to SAM, Ryder . . . can still interact with Remnant technology? I mean, it’s cool and all and makes for an inspirational “SAM-isn’t-what-makes-me-special!” deal, but there’s literally no logical explanation for it? Unless Ryder has been learning (whether actively or subconsciously) the Remnant language while deciphering codes during the plot and not telling anybody? And then they could literally pull it out of their ass after coming back to fucking life thanks to their sibling to open a door and weaponize the Remnant ship/city? It was cool, but it was kind of a weird Deus Ex Machina.

- Also, what the fuck was that shit with the Remnant fighters having the Scourge follow them to disrupt/destroy the Archon’s fleet? Like we still don’t know what the fuck the Scourge even is? But Ryder can somehow use it in this battle suddenly with Remnant ships that I’m assuming she is controlling with their mind somehow? Like the above point, it was really, really cool, but doesn’t make a lot of sense in retrospect?

- The mandatory animations while travelling through the galaxy. I know they added a skip option to some of the animations, but there are others that are still mandatory and it takes up a lot of time while trying to explore new systems and planets with very little reward in terms of XP gained and materials gathered. And very few missions triggered by finding things floating around in space.

- The open world was too open. Yeah, I know, I never thought I’d fucking say it either, but here we are. I’m a huge fan of open world. I practically died when I heard BOTW was going open world. But for a game that pushed for exploration, it gave very little weight or reward for actually doing that exploration. In my first playthrough, I completely discovered the entire map of each planet’s explorable area. In my second playthrough, I only went to places required for quests. And I think between the two, there was maybe one or two quests that I found in my first playthrough that I didn’t in my second playthrough. And there was a decent amount of map left uncharted in the second playthrough. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times:  if you are going to make an open world that players are going to want to explore, for the love of all that is holy fill it with something worth finding. I’m not saying you have to pack it hundreds of fetch quests or detailed side quests, but open environments should also be used for more than just “hey, it’s nice to look at.”

- Similarities to previous series. So, this one is entirely personal and subjective, but I thought it was a little redundant that the Reapers kett invaded a galaxy to harvest Exalt intelligent species to add to their own fleet genetic code in order to do it again in 50,000 years to another galaxy. 

So, for those reasons my final rating for Mass Effect: Andromeda is a 5/10. While’s it’s insanely fun to play and nice to look at, it’s hard to overlook the weak plot and blatant holes in the writing.

#daten plays andromeda

[russellthornton]

Flop Sweat: How to Stop Sweating Buckets When Anxiety Kicks In

So, you’re in a nerve-wracking situation, but how do you deliver the goods when it really counts… without flop sweat sending you down river?

I’m a guy, but I had an uncommon amount of anxiety growing up that eventually grew into a giant black hole. I remember having strong BO in public and huge sweat patches. My overall experience of school, university, and work were of sticky and uncomfortable sweatiness under my pits – which would then trigger flop sweat and an increasingly sweaty brow.

Just the anticipation of sweating would cause this chain of events. I feared being in a very public or close-contact space such as: sitting in a crowded assembly room in-between other students, in an intimate classroom, or for a public speech.

Why does flop sweat happen?

Say you were walking down your local park and you saw a fully-grown tiger a few paces ahead. It’s muscular back rippled as it looked up at you and made eye contact. For the next 10 minutes, you tried not to move… if you were so lucky to escape, afterwards you’d probably be dripping wet with sweat – your t-shirt sticking to your back.

Sweat helps your body not overheat during intense physical exertion – so even though the temperature didn’t rise when you were faced with the tiger, your brain assumed that it might increase in the very near future if it chased you and you had to try to fight or escape. What your brain actually did was to signal the release of the hormone epinephrine, causing you to sweat.

I’ll add a caveat: menopause, drugs, or disease can cause unexplained sweat. So consider going to the doctor if you think you may be suffering from an illness or a condition. But if you’re reading this, chances are there’s some situation that makes you so nervous that you sweat – and you want to master this reaction. [Read: Nervous sweating – Recognize the triggers and stop stress sweats]

How to overcome flop sweat

Just so you know, flop sweat is automatic and can be triggered by your nerves. It’s your body’s way of pre-empting fight or flight when it spots a threat.

Here’s what has worked for me over the years.

#1 Embracing anxiety. I run a meet-up group called Beyond Anxiety, named that because I had the insight that whatever you focus on not only grows, but also becomes your whole world. Also what you try to block only cracks through the seams – I would know – I was that false bravado, bearing-the-whole-world-on-my-shoulders type of guy.

The other and much better option was to acknowledge how I was feeling but to do nothing about it. To follow through with what my task was at any moment and to accept that I wouldn’t always feel great about it. The cool thing that happened was that over time I become more competent at the things I was bad at and forgot about my nervousness.

The rest of the world came into focus when I didn’t obsess about eliminating one aspect of my experience. I accepted that at moments I’d have some anxiety depending on circumstance, because it was a healthy and normal emotion.

I also had fearlessness, love, anger, and so on. All of it was a part of me. Over time, I grew the natural and authentic type of confidence that only comes with hard-won experience – not the pretend or showy kind. [Read: How to put yourself out there and embrace anxiety]

#2 Breathing. I’m a writer – I mention it because writers don’t tend to breathe well when they’re absorbed in putting words to the white page. I practice deep, slow breathing into my nose down to my belly and out of my mouth, when I want to relax and be calm. I sometimes do this with meditation.

You can place a hand on your chest and the other on your belly to test it. If your chest rises then you’re not breathing into your belly. When you breathe out, purse your lips as if you’re blowing out a candle. Breathing into your mouth actually makes you feel less calm as it’s related to the fight or flight mechanism *you breathe into your mouth when you need more air in order to move intensely*. [Read: How to be more outgoing – 12 ways to step out of the comfort zone]

#3 Using antiperspirant. No, I’m not kidding with this one and I’m not mocking. I’ve been there, man – some people just sweat a lot. I made a decision to just accept it and be prepared.

Some people don’t have bad BO. I’m not one of those people… so I use brands like Maximum Sure 48hrs Protection. If you don’t have bad body odor, then you might not be too worried about this – however, those armpit sweat stains can be annoying.

#4 Practicing. I remember attending a public speaking course – I decided to go to explore my public speaking fears, because back in school and university, my hands would shake and my voice tremble whenever I gave a public speech.

During the course, I remember this guy who signed up because he wanted to give a best man’s speech that was due in a few weeks. He wasn’t the best to begin with by a long shot, but neither was he as bad as he probably thought he was.

I could tell he was nervous talking in front of the intimately sized room. His eye contact was towards the ceiling but his way of speaking was absorbing. After several sessions, he began to realize that he wasn’t half bad and he became more comfortable on stage. Nevertheless, he never seemed completely at ease with the experience, and the same is true for some famous people and even rock stars.

Practice can give you a bit more grounding even if it does not eliminate your flop sweat. For me, I was less nervous doing public speaking and found that my voice and hands did not shake. [Read: How to build self-confidence and realize you’re really worth it]

#5 Re-framing it. Anxiety is a close cousin of excitement because both are arousal states, which is why – rather than jumping from anxiety into a sense of calm – it’s easier to convert nervousness into a feeling of excitement.

A situation could be interpreted as being on the spot and under investigation or more like getting the chance to shine and show what you’re made of.

Re-frame the situation using what’s called ‘anxiety reappraisal’ – when you add to an anxious thought: ‘I’m so excited that… ’ or ‘I’m going to get the chance to… ’ or ‘I just can’t wait… ’ Tap into that fighter, explorer, curiosity, alertness. Remind yourself that no one can read your mind and really people don’t care if you’re little bit nervous, it’s normal and sometimes a sign that you can be trusted. [Read: How not to be nervous – 18 calm ways to eliminate nerves instantly]

#6 Not being perfect. You want to get it right the first time – to astound, be flawless? Good luck… I can count perfectionism as one of my biggest flaws and one that I try to avoid. I also know people with a lot of talent who will probably die with a lot of regrets.

Especially in this age of instant connectivity, if you’re afraid of failure then you can’t possibly be in the game for real. No one cares if you make a mistake – they care whether you tried and were brave enough to put yourself out there. So my policy is to do, learn from feedback, and do again. All this obsessing over what will happen is often the problem itself. [Read: The fear of failure and how it can ruin your life for good]

#7 Not comparing – doing you. Not who you wish you were or what you think is cool, but you. Whenever I’m beating myself up about not doing something in this or that way I’m usually trying to meet someone else’s expectations.

‘Doing you’ in my opinion is to focus on your biggest strengths and to shore up major weaknesses.

An example of this is if you’re a great communicator verbally but a terrible writer. Something like a YouTube channel would suit you really well and a blog perhaps not so well. Why crucify yourself trying to be as good a writer as Mrs A, when you’re a better speaker than average and really enjoy doing it?

#8 Focus on the moment. Another great strategy to avoid flop sweat is being in the here and now. The movements of your lungs, faces in the room, moving your thumb around your index finger in a circular motion and feeling the texture of your skin. Whatever gets you into the moment – a yawn, a stretch. Meditation can help greatly with this ability. [Read: How to focus on yourself and build your own sunshine]

#9 Visualizing yourself succeeding. This one’s strange and I used to think it was ridiculous, but whenever I’ve bothered to actually do it, it’s worked out really well – I get the feeling that it’s a call to action for your brain to gear itself for a big moment to come some time in the future.

This is intent in action and your brain roots for you when you have strong intent. I definitely want my brain on my side when it really counts, like when I want to avoid flop sweat.

#10 Eating more. This one’s surprisingly effective for avoiding flop sweat, and also I think easy to overlook – because habits are hard to change. Sometimes I’m a bit more jittery than normal and when I consider it I realize that I haven’t eaten much – perhaps I’ve done a lot of mind power-sapping work beforehand and it’s especially true if I’ve done a big workout that same morning.

When you’re low in metabolic fuel, you’re more likely to feel nervous. An empty stomach = more anxious. Increase your calories if you find that flop sweat is a common thing during your day.

#11 Not lying. And telling the truth… if you’ve got something to hide you’ll be more nervous. I believe in practicing honesty even, actually especially, when it’s not convenient. Even admitting that you’re nervous, say if you’re on a date is a good way of doing this. I used to lie a lot, and I can tell you that life was a lot more complicated back then. [Read: 10 signs of low self-esteem and 5 ways to increase it]

Now I tell the truth and life is simple and sometimes very exciting because you never quite know what will happen when you tell the truth. I focus on telling meta-truths rather than one-dimensional truths.

So for example, if I was on a date and I found a girl to be boring, rather than saying ‘you’re boring’, I’d probably say something like ‘you know, I think we seem pretty different in the type of things we’re into.’ Both statements can be true, however, the second one is less concerned with just how I feel and more with the both of us.

#12 Do more things that make you flop sweat. Ultimately, being on the edge between where you think you’ll easily succeed and where you won’t is a great for building more resilience and also for creating more opportunities. For me, life didn’t begin until I started facing my own edge, and so for this reason, I think that life happens at the edges.

[Read: How to improve yourself – 16 powerful secrets of self-improvement]

If I’m honest, I think that flop sweat is not a big deal and is something we need to just get over it through: practice, experience and re-framing. Not being perfect and ‘just doing you’ are great attitudes that I’ve used to get a TON of experience in handling scary situations.

The post Flop Sweat: How to Stop Sweating Buckets When Anxiety Kicks In is the original content of LovePanky - Your Guide to Better Love and Relationships.