#but that uncertainty absolutely kills my brain. it's all anxiety all the way down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jusananimehoe · 4 years

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can u write something for feitan finding scars from self harm on his s/o? he enjoys torture and pain and its interesting to think how hed react to something like that one someone he cares about/loves

This turned into 1700 words, fucking hell, I got too carried away, but this subject hits very hard with me, so hopefully I did it justice. I absolutely believe Feitan is capable of caring, even loving, but it’d be a very different kind of love than what most would be used to.

So, enjoy, hopefully xxx

warnings for blood, blood kinks, self-harm mentions, mentions of general mental health issues.

Also; feel the need to mention that if any of you are suffering in any way, shape or form, my askbox is always open xxxx

How did I get here? You sighed, sinking further into the empty bathtub, trembling from head to toe as shame threatened to drown you, the horrible, but familiar ball of disgust was swirling wildly in your chest as you eyed the door nervously, praying he wouldn’t find you, like hell. You bit down on your lip as the doorknob turned slowly, you’d locked it, though you’d also known it wouldn’t keep him out, when had anything ever kept him out?

You allowed the smallest of smiles as your mind wandered, to all those months ago when he’d first come over your balcony, on the twenty-fifth floor at your apartment complex, eyes a little wild, hair a little windswept, aura radiating malicious intent. He’d smirked at you like some kind of deviant, eyes raking over your form, taking in the way your legs trembled, barely holding you up, enjoying your fear, perhaps a little too much, but gods, he’d looked so beautiful. Had you fallen in love with him in that very moment? Perhaps, perhaps it had been later, with how patient he had been, how willing to take things at your pace he had been, the space he had given you, it had all been such an experience, especially since you were well aware, he was a complete and total sadist.

He’d wanted to hurt you, you knew he wanted to hurt you, even to this day, and sometimes you even went willingly, more often than not these days, it was you who went in search of him, desperate to feel the stinging bite of his whip, or the wet, burning pain of his claws raking through your skin, like butter. He’d been more than willing to oblige you, of course, losing more and more control as you gave more of yourself to him with every passing day. You were grateful, you realised, laughing softly at the absurdity, grateful that he’d stolen you away in the middle of the night, and locked you up inside this place he sometimes called home, to be his own personal little toy, but what a life it had been so far.

And now I’ve ruined it all.

You whimpered softly and hid your face, pressed firmly against your knees as the door opened slowly, allowing the dark-haired man to slip inside without a sound, eyes locking on your form instantly. You couldn’t see his eyes burning into you, but you could defintley feel that loaded gaze, and a tremor racked your body as you sniffled quietly. It had been a moment of weakness on your part, a lapse in memory of exactly why you had always been so careful, though he’d seen you stripped down on many an occasion, you’d always dutifully covered the hideous marks up with the make-up that he’d supplied you with when you’d asked. The shame that wracked you now was deep, all encompassing at your own stupidity. He’s going to throw me away, no doubt about it

The scars on your legs had not faded over the years, mostly because you were a repeat offender, despite trying to get help multiple times, nothing had really ever made a difference, and you had tired of people always looking down on you, with their pitiful eyes, “oh but we understand what you’re going through”, or, even better, “why would you do something so revolting to yourself”? The scars had eventually just become a normal part of your body, and since you were too riddled with anxiety to ever really connect with anyone, they’d never been an issue, until him, of course. You’d been tired, too tired to remember your morning routine, and now here you were, hiding in a bathtub as he walked slowly towards you, you fought the urge to cry, or laugh at how pathetic you were.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The smallest ones were just pale lines across your upper thigh, the worst, the ones you had done in your most extreme episodes of self-hatred, were raised, bumpy, purple lines, that stood out a mile away, and you shook and cried quietly at the thought that he’d seen them, ghosted a finger over them, even, before your mind had screamed the realisation at you, which, in turn, had led to your very undignified bolt from the bedroom you’d recently begun sharing with him.

A soft touch against your throat had you shivering and biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, will he just get rid of me, or maybe even kill me? The gentle finger trailing down your neck forced a tiny little whimper from your throat, and a low growl rumbled from his chest in response as he swung into the tub with you, landing silently, to sit behind you. His hot breath on your ear had your eyes fluttering as he pulled you back against his cool chest, hands gripping tightly at your thighs even as you made a choked noise of distress at the action. A hot tongue ran slowly over the sensitive skin along your jaw, and you gasped quietly, leaning into him further as his teeth bit down harshly, eliciting a shaky little groan from you as you felt something wet dripping down your neck. His tongue ran over it instantly, shuddering as he cleaned the stinging wound carefully, nails drawing slow circles over your scarred skin even as you watched shakily.

He nuzzled into your throat then, and you turned slightly, before finally lifting your head to meet those eyes you loved so much, shivering at the intensity you found there, shivering when he leaned in to claim your mouth in a slow kiss, tongue surging forward into your mouth as he pulled you closer, tugging you around to straddle his slim waist, nails turning to claws, digging into your hips with a grin as you groaned against his hot mouth, shuddering against him as he clawed at your skin, slowly, with patience, and a care you knew he showed only to you. His eyes burned as he gazed down at your soft figure, eye twitching as he battled with his own self-control, tongue swiping over his lip as he squeezed the bloody claw marks.

His eyes snapped back up to your face then, and seemed to read the uncertainty there, the indescribable terror, at the thought of being abandoned by the only person you’d ever met who seemed to understand your need to be punished, to be hurt, to be pushed to the very limit of consent. His forehead touched yours gently, stormy eyes locked on yours as you breathed him in, comforted by the tangy smell of copper and blood that clung to him, strange to others, comforting to you. You bit your lip and took a risk, eyes flicking down so you didn’t have to see his reaction.

“I’m afraid that if I let you see every side of me, you’ll be disgusted”, whispered so softly you almost hoped he wouldn’t hear it, but judging by the tightening of his grip, the way his claws dug further into your supple flesh as you shivered, he’d heard you just fine. A warm mouth pressed against your jaw then, before moving up your face, across your cheeks, over your nose, pressing against your mouth, before tangling his tongue with yours again, slowly, like he was mapping out the inside of your mouth in intricate detail, leaving you gasping against his mouth when he finally pulled back to look at you, expression unreadable.

His eyes fluttered, his mouth turned down in a slight grimace before he opened it slowly, “I-“, he cut himself off, appearing frustrated by his inability to find the correct wording, his left hand moving up to card his now soft hands through your hair, lost in thought for a moment, considering carefully as you waited with bated breath, body trembling against him even as he tugged you closer, hands running up and down your arms to address the little bumps now appearing on your skin, when had it got so cold?

“I-“, he began again, still looking a touch uncertain as he tilted his head, eyes focusing on you with a seriousness that knocked all the breath out of your chest, “I-like-broken-things”, he managed to say, voice as monotone as it always was, and yet, you could feel the sudden emotion behind it, his desperate desire to get this right. ” Find-them-interesting”, he continued before shaking his head swiftly, looking annoyed with himself, “beautiful”, he amended quietly, “find-them-beautiful”. You trembled, nose brushing against his as your pressed closer to him.

“Maybe-that-is-why”, he began slowly, face scrunched in concentration, eyes a little wider than usual, “why-i-find-you-beautiful”, he finished, averting his eyes instantly, clearly uncomfortable. You shivered, arms trembling as you sat in his lap, hands running slow up and down his bare chest, eyes wet with unshed tears as you took it all in, he wasn’t leaving you. Your mouth found his a moment later, nails digging into his back and raking down his skin as he hissed underneath you in pleasure, claws returning to your hips again.

He claimed your mouth hungrily as you ground slowly down against him, moaning loudly into his mouth as he grabbed your ass, sharp claws breaking the skin with ease, pressing hard enough to leave a scar, for sure. “Only-me”, mumbled against your bare shoulder as he bit down, hard, drawing a desperate little squeal from you as you tugged on his dark locks pleadingly. “Only-I-hurt-you-now”, he finished before biting down viciously again, groaning as the taste of blood filled his mouth.

Your head collapsed against his as you trembled and gasped, body like a live wire against him as you went boneless, too enraptured in all the emotions, all the pleasure surging through you to really pay much attention, though you forced your brain to form a coherent sentence, knowing he’d be expecting a confirmation.

“Yes”, whispered softly against his hair as your breathing grew more laboured, “yes, only you”, enjoying the contented little hum against your stinging shoulder as he smirked slowly against your bloody skin, already bruising a dark purple under the sharp bite of his teeth.

“Only you, Feitan”.

#feitan #feitan x reader #feitan smut #feitan portor #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #hxh #some fluff maybe #slightly soft feitan #but not really #fluff #smut

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

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Can I request deidara with prompt 67?

One of the explosion boys coming your way.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsessiveness, delusions, kidnapping, blindfolding, being tied up,chains, Stockholm syndrome, reader losing it, self-harming, blood

Prompt 67: “Say my name again like this.”

The only sound you were able to detect was your own shaking breath, nearly echoing in the eerily silence which surrounded you. How long had you been here, tied up in this position? You had no idea and this was what scared you. It couldn't have been more than a few hours, right? It was hard to tell given that you couldn't see anything. The blindfold in front of your eyes neglected you any kind vision, leaving you absolutely vulnerable and defenseless. Anything could happen to you now and you wouldn't even notice nor get the chance to fight.

But Deidara had surely have to come back very soon, wouldn't he? He wouldn't leave you all alone in here, right? You felt pure fear rising up inside of you whilst thinking that he might not come back after all. What if he had gotten bored of you? Or had been killed? You knew that you should actually be glad if he wouldn't come back in here. It meant that you were free to go. The problem simply was that next to the fact that you were tied up in pretty solid chains, preventing you from making any sort of handsights also that you had no idea were you even were. What if you were in the middle of nowhere? Were there even enough supplies to manage to hold on long enough until you would bump into some people? What if you would be attacked on your way for help? Deidara had taken all your weapons.

You hated it, how you actually wanted him to come back. But the sad reality was that the loneliness had slowly gotten to you over time. Not only that, but all the fear as well. You hated it whenever he left you alone because it meant you would have to be tied up again, being forced to endure again hours silence and darkness. With no food, no drinking, no chance to go to the tiolet. It was torture. On longer missions he took you most of the times with him so he could keep an eye on you. And then you had to rely on him because elsewise you might get hurt. In either scenario, it had always been the case that you had to rely on him.

So where was he?! Why wasn't he here yet?! A dry sob escaped your lips. You were afraid of being left alone in here. You couldn't stand this anymore and your body agreed. Your muscles were sore and stiff from sitting in the same positions for hours straight, your throat was dry and burning with the need to finally swallow some water, your stomach was twisting in an aching way around that clearly signalled that you were hungry and your wrists hurt due to being tightly squeezed from the cold iron. But the worst? That you had been robbed one of your most important senses. You couldn't see anything which left you relying on the next best sense you had left. Your hearing. But this made it even worse because whenever you even imagined to sense a slight creaking, you felt the absolutely not belonging together emotions of hope and fear rising up inside of you. You always hoped that the creaking meant that Deidara was back, but there was also this nerve-wracking anxiety that it was maybe a shinobi who had found this house.

It was killing you slowly inside and with every passing second you felt yourself growing more and more frightened. What if he had really lost interest? Or really gotten himself killed? Who would help you then?! No one knew that you were here! You would die! Without anyone knowing what had ever happened to you! That blonde boy had to come back! You needed him.

And suddenly you jerked forward, your thoughts starting to cartwheeling inside of your head. The chains instantly pulled you backwards, the sharper edges of the iron pressing themselves in your skin until you felt the stinging of them cutting in your skin. But in that moment you couldn't care less, feeling like suddenly you were hyperaware of every noise around you. It made you only feel more unhinged, the small noises making you tense up before leading to you pulling even tighter against the iron. Without even noticing you had even started crying, wetting the fabric of the blindfold with your tears, but you didn't even care about that. You honestly didn't give a damn about anything right now, not the slow stream of blood nor how much your throat hurt when you started whining and sobbing, the way it burned due to being completely dried out. Right now you only cared about one thing.

"Deidara! DEIDARA!" He didn't leave you. No, he would never do that. He had clearly said that he loved you. He couldn't leave you alone. You would die! You didn't want to die! "DEIDARA!!!" The only thing you seemed to be able to do now was screaming his name.

The moment you suddenly heard a door being slammed open, you choked on your own spit and the air, starting to cough violently. But even for that your panicked brain couldn't seem to care right now. You had currently only one person stuck in your mind. Was he back?! "Deidara!" Your mind focused intensely on the footsteps which stormed towards your door and with one loud bang the door to the room in which you were trapped was smashed open. "(y/n)?! What's wrong?!"

You bursted out in even more tears when you heard his voice which caused your whole body to loosen up a bit, all the uncontrolled tugging and pulling suddenly stopping. He was here! He was finally here! He hadn't forgotten you. You really wanted to say something, but the only thing you were able to do now was hiccuping and sobbing in relief.

"Why are you crying?!...Why are you bleeding?! What happened?!" With one swift movement you felt the fabric covering your eyes being ripped away from your face, finally allowing you to see what was going on around you. At first a dry whimper escaped your lips, your eyes not being able to handle all the sudden light attacking them again. You had to rapidly blink a couple of times before you finally got used to it again, finally being able to recognize the long-haired male who was hastily removing the chains around your wrists, obviously panicking when he saw the opened skin, red, raw and bloody from all of your brutal pushing before.

"What did you do?! Look, you're hurt! Why would you do something like this?!" He ruffled his hair, clearly stressed out about this. You on the other hand felt like you had just been punched in the face. Had you disappointed him? What if he wouldn't like you anymore because of this and just tie you up again, but this time without coming back? "Wait here, alright. I-I'll quickly get the first aid to treat your wounds." He tried to sound calm, not wanting you to get scared even more.

But the moment he tried to turn around, you literally just jumped onto him, catching him clearly off-guard with this. He blinked a bit surprised at you clinging tightly onto his body, body trembling with heavy sobs. You didn't want him to leave, you wanted him to stay with you. Your wrists honestly didn't hurt that much, your brain not even recognizing the pain in them. At least not as much as the painful stinging inside of you, mixed with the sweet feeling of relief. These two emotions, which clashed currently together in your brain, made you honestly a bit sick and slightly dizzy. Or was this because you weren't very hydrated right now? You didn't know.

"S-stay please." Your voice was barely a whisper and sounded raspy due to the lack of water. But it was audible enough for Deidara to hear. Was he dreaming right now? He couldn't recall a time where you had ever hugged him or touched him in any sort of way before. Those last few weeks all you had ever done was screaming, crying and begging him to let you go.

But here you were now, clinging onto him like he was the oxygen you needed to breathe, burrying your face in his chest and whimpering for him to stay. He knew that he should have taken care of your raw wrists in that moment, he knew that this wasn't the right moment. But he really couldn't help the large grin which suddenly appeared on his face. He knew it! He knew that with a bit time you would start accepting the fact that you and him were just meant to be! How could he say no to your wishes when you obviously needed him so much right now?

"It's fine (y/n). I'm here. I won't go anywhere." You slightly lifted your head, being met with his absolutely adoring gaze and this lunatic grin on his face. If he would have given you that look one week ago, you were sure that you would have pushed him away and yelled at him. But now you didn't. No, you were even glad that he was giving you that look. It somehow soothed you to see just how infatuated he really was with you.

"Please never leave me again alone like this. I-I was terrified that you might not come back or get killed." Your grip tightened slightly, your shivering only increasing when thinking back to the darkness and the nerve-wracking uncertainty about whaz would happen. It made you feel like throwing up.

His smile only seemed to widen when hearing this, it looked like his face might actually hurt. H-how cute! You had been worried about him! "I'm really sorry for making you worry that much. I really didn't intend to do so. My man Sasori kept me a bit more busy than intended. The next time I'll hurry up." His tone had transformed to sickening sweet, obviously hoping that he would calm you down by holding you in his arms and cooing at you with this adoring gaze of his. And it did help you to relax a lot, but it still didn't seem enough.

You shook your head in a stubborn way, looking at him with red and puffy eyes. "No! I don't want to wait for you in here for hours without knowing what might happen to you in the moment. Can't you just take me with you?" For a short moment Deidara's expression seemed to waver with uncertainty, not really happy to even think about this. Missions were often very dangerous and it happened more than once that he had to bombard the whole landscape to get something down. He didn't want to bring your life into danger. "I'm not so sure..."

"Please. Don't leave me alone anymore in here. I hate it. It's cold and silent and dark. I am aware that you often go on dangerous missions. B-but you can protect me, can't you? I don't have to worry as long as I'm with you, right?" This managed to make a blush climb up Deidara's face when hearing your words, the trust you put into him. He almost felt his chest swelling with pride when hearing that you were that confident in him keeping you safe. And weren't you right? He had promised after all to keep you safe. "I'll think about it, alright?"

The answer didn't seem to satisfy you completely, judging from the way you were tugging hos cloak. "Deidara..." Your voice vibrated slightly against his chest, a small and pleading whine. And this small word, his name, caused the blonde to freeze for a short moment. He just kind of stared at you in awe. That was before he finally progressed the noise you had just made, whining so cutely his name which deepened his already slightly pink cheeks even more. How could someone be so unbelievably endearing?

"Say that again!" You stirred confused up a bit, looking him in his face. You felt yourself slightly flinching when you saw his expression. He looked a bit...weird. The crazed expression on his face seemed to have become only more unhinged-looking thanks to the blush on his face. When noticing your gaze on his, he suddenly leaned closer, making sure to ensure that you wouldn't flee by holding you with his grip in your place until his forehead was pressed against yours. "Say my name again like this."

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere deidara

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quitethepirategal · 3 years

Text

An Analysis in Threes

❥ TAGGED BY: @emcads like 30 years ago ❥ TAGGING: @riidcr @starsailingcaptain @covencrown @hookd @all-fleshed-out @evermxre @motherofredemption @bup1957 @conquistadoradelmar @seaprofound @tcthinecwnself @withinycu @windguided @daevilhorns @concordia-cum-sinistro and YOU and I spent like 8 hours on this so pLEASE READ IT PLEASE I AM BEGGING I NEED VALIDATION I’M-

repost don’t reblog. yall dont have to type this much.

MUSE: Captain Red Handed Jessica

Three Strengths:

Her adaptability and resourcefulness. Is she brave, yes. Is she lucky, also yes. But over all, she can roll with the cards she’s been dealt in a way that many would call inhumanly clever. Her intelligence, her perception, and her charisma are all different ingredients of this indomitable characteristic of hers. She can see the value in just about anything and anyone, can pick up on clues and tangents few others can follow, and can remember seemingly endless details, tho unfortunately not on command. But even then, her patchy memory seems to contribute to this adaptability as well, as it usually allows for detachment. If she can find resources everywhere, it means she can survive everywhere. There have been countless times where the wheel of fortune has suddenly turned on her and she’d lost near everything and her response was more or less Damn, ok I need food water and shelter lets go. No food? Grow food. No water? Ask someone if they have water. No shelter? Sleep outside. No money? Steal money. Can’t hear anymore? Cool I can use loud weapons. Crashed on an island? My island now. Shot? Free bullet. She knows when to push, she knows when to quit, and sometimes she knows when to gamble based on her ability ( what a man can do and what he can’t do and all that ). Strong she may be, she knows its foolish to rely on strength. Survival of the fittest actually rarely means survival of the strongest. ( edit; this is the theme for the entirety of her character. I will say it 50,000 times. I am very sorry ). And as a student of philosophy and biology, she understands that phrase better than most. Leading to our next point.

Her understanding. As I stated, her charisma is something unmatched, and is a key element in all three of her strengths. This charisma might not exist as prominently were it not for her ability to understand. She has limited ( I’ll get back to that ) but deep running empathy and while not terribly observant all the time, she is always perceptive. Not only that, but she’s personally known abuse, hardship, and uncertainty, and understands that hate or anger can be rooted in similar pain. She was schooled lightly in both Christian and Buddhist values before diving heavily into democratic philosophy, meaning she believes all being experience suffering and therefore kindness is a powerful sign of strength, but also that suffering while free and equal is better than comfort in oppression. And between her sweet words and beautiful face, she can get most people to open up in ways they themselves my not have expected. Being very good with people means she can learn from them, gain something from them, lead them, and/or use them. But Jessica isn’t a manipulator in truth; her intentions are almost always kind or healthy ones. She absolutely uses people from time to time but not EVER without them consenting to or being made aware of such because again, unlike a manipulative person, she understands that can ruin a relationship and therefore ruin a resource. What it makes for is an excellent leader, a beloved captain, and a trusted ally at most and an excellent conversationalist at the least. But her understanding isn’t just social, oh no. It’s academic as well. Armed only with his little library and the lessons of his own teachers, Jessica’s foster father tirelessly smithed her into a not just a girl who knew a lot of things, but a truly intelligent, thinking mind. He’d die before learning he’d succeeded tenfold. Jessica isn’t one to just except things as they are, facts or otherwise. She usually needs to prove it, experiment, see things from a new angle. Debates with her are fun! She has no issue admitting she’s wrong or confessing she’s never thought of it that way, and is actually wrong a lot of the time. It doesn’t bruise her ego, it excites her. It means there’s more to learn. And her ability to constantly understand new concepts paired with her ability to overwhelmingly understand people combine to make for a very powerful core idea of hers: We are fittest to survive because we all fit together. Our humanity, our empathy, our community are our strengths because they keep us united, which keeps us the fittest. No one is independent, no man is an island. People are power. And thus her final strength is just that.

Her power. While she and I still firmly state that strength isn’t everything don’t be disillusioned; its very goddamn important. And it’s something Jessica has plenty of. She is durable and clever because of her rocky early childhood, she is quick and versatile from her youth in a pirate port, she is physically strong and mighty from her years training in martial arts, and she’s an absolute crackshot after years of diligent practice with her trusty pistols. Her true strength may lie in her brains and in her allies yes, but even without them, Red Jessica is a powerhouse of a warrior. She can end fights extremely quickly or run from them without a prayer of catching her ( no shame in the later, both skills keep you alive ). And it may be in bad taste to say, but ever since loosing most of her hearing, Jess swears up and down it’s made her vision better, her reaction time faster, and her quick thinking even quicker. Yes of course she’s slowed down with age, but a bullet shoots at the same speed no matter how old you are. And you best hope she didn’t bring her firecrackers, because while sudden loud noises will absolutely temporarily discombobulate or debilitate an opponent with healthy hearing, it’ll hardly effect her at all and suddenly, you’re a sitting duck. You see those thighs? You see those calves? She can crush PINEAPPLES with them! People have seen her do it! Do you know how many micro-fractures broke and rebuilt those hands? Thousands! She can crush a trachea like a fucking beer can! She can kick you to death! One ill placed curb stomp and you are DECEASED. Sometimes she’ll just psyche you out because she KNOWS you know she can kill your stupid ass! But while her strength, mental and physical, have always been there, her power is relatively new. As stated before, people are power. Not knowledge, not money, not strength. People. She’s a fearsome warrior but she’d be useless if outnumbered. Shes a very successful pirate, but she’d never make it out of port without a crew on her ship. She found a gorgeous island, but it’d still be wild without those who built it’s piers and buildings. She manages orchards and tends to them and harvests them herself, but she would loose all of her crop without the helping hands of her employed farmers. And like I mentioned, she deeply understands this. Freedom is not independence or vice versa. Did you make the clothes on your back or the fabric that made those clothes? Did you write the books you read to make you smarter or teach you that skill? Did you plant the seed years ago that grew that orange you’re eating? No, of course not. Jessica didn’t either. Another human did. We all need each other to fill the holes in our lives that we can’t fill ourselves. Humans are puzzle pieces in that way, there is no bigger picture or prayer for survival on our own. And because of this, we can do anything we as a community, as a SPECIES work together to achieve. There is no knowledge if there’s no one to learn from, there is no money if a society don’t give it value, your money is worthless if those you’re paying decide to rise against you, your role as leader only exists at the consent of those you lead, and your strength won’t save you from a sinking ship. People are, and always will be, power. And as someone who is exceptionally strong and exceedingly smart, Jessica has slotted herself in the humanity puzzle thusly: The strong exist to protect the weak, the smart exist to educate, and the lucky exist so the unlucky may be given aid. And it is with this fairness and compassion that she has won the trust of so many. She has a great many friends and allies even outside of those in her crew or on her island. And she can make many more with ease. That kind of power is not a power to be trifled with, even if she can kick your ass six ways to Saturday without it.

Three Weaknesses:

She suffers ADHD. Now before ANY OF Y’ALL SAY ANYTHING, I myself also suffer ADHD. And yes I do say suffer because well that’s what it causes for Jessica and I, suffering. Yes, it is ableist language to say ‘suffering from’ rather than ‘has’ or ‘is diagnosed with’ and yes it perpetuates a stigma against us but god DAMN IT in both Jessica’s case and mine, it make life much much harder than it needs to be. At the end of the day, Red Jessica is a fantasy of mine; I pour myself into her whether I mean to or not. She’s the adult I wish I was, the person I might be if I had no anxiety, or brainfog, or lived in a world were I didn’t need a credit score or a degree. And even then, I can’t say I know anyone else’s problems better than my own. So if my character has problems, by sheer osmosis they are going to reflect some of mine. Both of the characters I write have ADHD because I have ADHD and I couldn’t even begin to know how a non-ADHD mind works to write it properly. And no, I’m not being dramatic when I say it causes me suffering. I can’t drive, I can’t hold down a job, I nearly flunked out of school, I still cant read very fast or spell very well, I am constantly overwhelmed by mundane things, I’m a slow learner, I forget very important things or recent things, I forget about things that mean the world to me, I forget about people, I stumble through tasks, I procrastinate hobbies and basic hygiene, and everything I do takes all goddamn day and I can only really do one important thing at a time and in order of importance. If I have a date at 4pm, I’m dressed and ready at 11am because I’ve gotta do the important thing first or else I will forget to do the important thing. I started typing this at a little before 5pm. It’s 7;30. It’ll probably be 10 o’clock at night by the time I fucking finish ( edit: l m a o its 1am bitch you thought ). I’m 26 and am just medicated enough to barely function. So yeah. Suffering is the word. Though for Jessica, perhaps suffering is a tad strong of a word. Her ADHD affects her ability to function in far less debilitating ways ( though whether that’s a result of a less severe diagnosis than me or the result of the society, situations, and responsibilities she functions in and around are far different from mine, who’s to say ). For her, she has very consuming hyperfixations that can last anywhere between weeks to decades, a spotty memory that is detail and memento oriented, she’s scatterbrained more often then not but can focus with amazing clarity on her interests or in high adrenaline situations, is is ABYSMALLY bad at math and EXCRUCIATINGLY bad with numbers ( as opposed to me, who is good at numbers but shit at spelling or reading ), she can forget anything no matter how important it is to her or to anyone, she’s bad with names and dates, is COMPLETELY time-blind, has trouble prioritizing, and of course, wile not actually that materialistic, she absolutely has the ol’ magpie instinct. While her poor memory assists in her adaptability and ability to move on, it also means she forgets things she needed to remember, like when the last time she bathed was and who this person is and what happened between her and someone else or what conversation’s shes had. Unfortunately this means she’s a very good friend and leader... while you’re around and interacting with her on at least a weekly basis. It’s almost a lack of object permanence in both a social and very real sense. If something is not right in front of her, odds are she’s not going to think about it. And while its something she constantly kicks herself for and actively tries to be better about, it applies to people too. Face to face is the best way to interact with her; she won’t think to write you and in her modern verse she won’t think to ever call and she’ll text you back in perhaps a few days. She doesn’t value you any less, I promise. She’s just either distracted or overwhelmed. Also, for someone as understanding as her, she is surprisingly self-centered. Not selfish, self-centered. She’ll talk about herself more than she should, and will assume people understand that she’s doing so as a form of showing empathy rather than bragging when they may not know this at all. Actually she accidentally assumes all the time. It was far worse when her hearing was functional; she’d finish your sentence for you or guess what it was you were going to say ( again, not to talk over, you but to show she understands you and the conversation, tho it usually came of as annoying or patronizing ). Sometimes she mistakenly assumes you believe or know the same things she does without even realizing it. Maybe she perceives the right idea off of someone but isn’t observant enough to notice anything past that. And while she is willing to change her mind about things, she might change her mind a tad too quickly. She’s an over-sharer and is horrible at keeping any kind of secret. Romantic relationships tend to fizzle out. Her impulse control is improving but has a VERY long way to go. She’s always chasing something new. All and all, when you’re a pirate, a librarian, or even a captain, all of these things may be irritating and inconvenient, but are overall manageable in chunks. ...But as a governor to her island, as a leader of an entire population... oof. In the position of leadership that she’s in, she can’t afford to make too many massive mistakes, and she knows this. ‘There is no power quite like the power of being underestimated’ is a phase you’ll hear her say a lot but for her, there is a shift in connotation. If people expect less and you do more that’s a great upper hand in any situation but for her, it was a safety net. Having ADHD sometimes means going months or years being fine and then eventually you fuck up and everyone around you wonders how in the world you managed to do that. She has only barely avoided disaster more times than she’d like to admit. Even with the resourcefulness, the understanding, and the power she wields, she’s finally starting to realize that she’s bit off more than she might be able to chew, with the entire well-beings and livelihoods of others on the line. And she fears that one day she’ll play her cards wrong and everything she’d built, everything she’s done, will all come crashing down in ruin.

She is Hard of Hearing. This one is literally as simple as it sounds: she has moderate and degenerative hearing loss and tinnitus after years of canons, explosions, gunshots, and a definitive, scale tipping attack in her early 30s. Her ears just don’t work at all like they used to. The whole world sounds like it would if everything was underwater: she can’t pin point the location of sounds, how far off or close sounds are, and barely registers changes in volume. And it only gets worse the older she gets; one day she won’t hear anything at all. And while yes, again, it might be very harsh and ableist to say, the truth of the matter that being deaf a “ weakness ” more often than its a strength. That said, it very well can be a strength. I’ve already mentioned that trick with the firecrackers and let me tell you it is a DAMN EFFECTIVE TRICK. Shes around explosions and canons and guns all the time and now she can focus while being around them five times better than she could in the past! But unfortunately it also means she’s very easy to sneak up on, she sometimes isn’t aware of danger until it’s nearly too late, no one can get her attention or warn her across any distance, it’s very easy to escape from her, and it’s easy for her to be just... left out of things. She might hear you talking, but she has little to no idea what you’re saying without sign or lipreading. Some people don’t have the patience or even just the courtesy to speak slower, or clearer, or repeat themselves a lot. Though, those last too thinks aren’t weaknesses of hers so much as they are the weakness of others, but they still negatively affect her self esteem and her effectiveness as a leader. All of this has taught her to pick her battles carefully, and plan around the elements of surprise and discombobulation. And while communication was tricky at first, it only got easier, and now she can talk to you almost like anyone can, so long as she’s looking you in the face.

That damn bleeding heart. We have established a number of things that should easily add up to an overly empathetic, trusting, fight-the-good-fight, martyr-some, idealistic pushover; she believes humanity and kindness are strengths, she has taken on the role of leader and then a provider, she has known suffering and tasked herself with ending the suffering of others to the best of her ability, she lacks the clarity of mind to assume people aren’t just as good or capable as her automatically, she can have poor impulse control at times, she wants to have relationships, and ( while I never stated this outright yet it can be inferred ), she believes that being able to see yourself in others is the foundation of humanity and ( as i did say outright ) humanity is what keeps us unified and unity is what makes us fit and strong. Keeping up? Good. Here’s the curve ball: How can she whole hardheartedly preach and believe all of this, to the point of it being the foundation of her character, WHILE BEING A VIOLENT THIEVING AND BLOODTHIRSTY PIRATE?! HOW, MANGO? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!! Ok, fine, sure, I will. I’m sure about one half of you are looking up from the screen and going “ Oh yeah, wow I totally forgot that bit. “ and the other half got about two and a half paragraphs in before squinting and silently calling bullshit. So let me explain. In short, she’s a detached hypocrite and is well aware and unashamed of her hypocrisy while far less aware of her detachment. I’ll cover both: Western culture as a whole seems to be under the impression that hypocrisy, despite context or importance, is automatically bad. I don’t know where this comes from personally ( my bet is Christianity but I have exactly 0 evidence ) but its a very... flawed idea. Take the freedom of speech vs racism problem; say you owned a bar where all could speak their mind freely over cold drinks. Excellent concept without context, right? Sure. ....Then a die hard racist covered in slurs and symbols walks in and orders- what are you going to do? The correct answer is to throw him out instantly. Not let him sit so long as he doesn’t cause trouble, not just ignore him and hope he doesn’t return, you throw him out. Is it hypocritical? Yep! Sure is! But it is also 100% necessary to protect your other patrons because if you don’t, the racist starts feeling safe and bringing his racist buddies, literally everyone else starts feeling unsafe and starts to hang out elsewhere, and two months later, ta da! You now own a n*zi bar and there is literally nothing you can do about it. Jessica is in a somewhat similar situation. You as a pretend bar owner need to make a decision as who to let into your bar and who to throw out for the good of all of your patrons. Jessica too is faced daily with that decision. If she want’s to help as many people as possible, the only realistic way she can do that are by protecting those under her leadership... only. She is surrounded by hateful, angry, sneaky, traitorous, abusive, or otherwise evil people. Piracy as a profession and poverty in general can do that to a person. Of course there is a clear difference between those down on their luck and desperate, and the truly cruel and twisted, but unfortunately both types of people yield the same wrongdoings. It’s absolutely her nature to extend a hand to anyone and everyone but.... she just can’t anymore. Too many times has her trust been betrayed, too many times has she gotten in peoples business trying to be helpful, only for her to absolutely bite her in the ass. Too many time the extended hand is bitten and once or twice, she’s actually made things worse. Now, she will only help someone she loves, someone under her leadership, or someone who seeks her out. That’s it. And even then, sometime it manages to bite er in the ass. But she had to set that hard limit for herself out of necessity, one she does her absolute best to adhere too and... these days she adheres a little too well. That leads us to our next point; what I was alluding to at the beginning of her Understanding essay when I said she has limited but deep running empathy. That detachment again, courtesy of a very unattached mother and unchecked ADHD. ( It isn’t a strong enough characteristic to even rank as a strength or a weakness but damn if it isn’t an undercurrent to a lot of her motivations and experiences. ) Strangers are fair game that she tries to ignore, but if she even perceives you as a threat, you could be in danger. Like anyone used to violence or perhaps anyone trapped in an us verses them mindset, she can just... flat... turn her empathy off. Not on command, she’s not a socio or psychopath persay. But she has become totally numb to the horror of violence via her warrior upbringing that, in her mind, violence can actually be rather fun. Pair that with the fact that she purposely tailored herself to only be empathetic to her allies and boom. You get a kindhearted killer. Cops and soldiers in our world do it literally every day. Actually anyone can do it really, even you if you tried. You don’t have to be evil or even angry to kill or steal or lie... you just have to believe you’re right.

Three Secrets:

WHAT SECRETS?! LMAO this bitch is the oversharing queen!! I’ve been typing and pondering her character for literal hours ( its currently 11:16, fuck you adderall ), and I still can not think of a single goddamn secret. There is nothing about her that at least five random people don’t fucking know about!! The only secrets she has are secrets she knows about other people and even then she is!! literally the worst!! She spills her guts left and right and yet she wants to be a mysterious bitch SO BAD like BABE I love you, you’re precious, but you are a dumbass attention seeking validation chasing adhd CLOWN girl!! Stop telling random people about your hermaphroditism or your dairy allergy or your dead dad or that time you fell asleep in a barrel like that is literally your uber driver Jessica honey come ooooon. I’m skipping this section mom holy fuck.

Three Fears:

What if she does wrong by everyone who trusts her? As stated at the end of the ADHD essay, she’s terrified of failing those she leads. Where it as simple as personal failure, she’d be fine. Ever if her entire world came crashing down on top of her she’d either die or start back from square one. Death is a fact of life and her adaptability means she can just dust herself off and move on, so neither her death nor her failures really scare her... But it isn’t just her life and happiness at stake, is it? Not anymore, right? What started as a leader of a small gang of rebels became a full crew, then a crew became a slew of allies, then those allies built a town and now... now she’s the governor of the Crimson Isle and there are nearly twenty five HUNDRED lives at her mercy. HER mercy. One really, really bad mistake could ruin their livelihoods or spark disorder and disloyalty. And if she died? Would whoever it is that will take her place be as good to them as she is? Is she good enough to begin with in the first place? Every day the paperwork gets a little bit thicker, every year there’s a new baby or two. And the isle has fertile soil sure but will it last? Are they prepared for a raid or a hurricane? And if Jessica trusts the wrong people, where her people right to trust her? ...can I protect them? Can I protect them?! CAN I PROTECT THEM?!

Who am I if I’m not interesting? This is, literally, an entirely subconscious fear. She’s not at all aware it exists and therefor this entry is short. But between her short time with her very unimpressed mother, her own ADHD, she is constantly hungry for attention without even realizing it. She must be interesting and intriguing and engaging, and I did mention she wants to also be mysterious. She wants not so much your input or even your validation - but rather if shes not perceived then.... is she really there? Remember, she is unaware of any of this. And fortunately she’d never been starved for attention to act out over it in the first place, even when her disinterested mother was alive. Look at her; she’s radiant, she’s beautiful, and she’s 6′4 / 195 cm shredded and covered in cool scars. Without even opening her mouth, without even her colorful clothes, she’s kind of automatically interesting. So she’s never been so desperate for attention that she acts out because she’s never been without it for very long. But it’s there. Hungry, aching, silent. Those years after the M branding were horrible and she could never really explain why. She still throws parties, organizes festivals, and talks to damn near anyone who will listen. Look at my art! Look at my library! Listen to how much I know! Let me tell you how lovely you are! Look at my scares! Look at my hair! Look at me haha, please, please look at me.

GHOSTS. NOPE. No. NO. Fuck ALL of that noise. Stay dead, go to hell, eat a dick. Red Jessica is a scientist and superstitious atheist. As an academic and somewhat bi-cultural woman she simply thinks there are far too many religions with far too much history for any of them to be considered The One True Thing You Must Believe Or ElseTM and she tends to not truly believe anything until she finds some kind of proof. Shes not afraid of the unknown, shes thrilled by it. She’s not afraid of death or the afterlife, that’s beyond her control. She’s only superstitious because she does believe in and value luck, and also its a bit of a cultural habit. BUT IF SOME SHIT STARTS MOVING ON ITS OWN OR IF SHE SEES SOME BULLSHIT IN THE CORNER OF HER EYE THEN SHE IS OUT OF THERE. OUTIE 5000. She has heard the tales of lost souls from purgatory or the eternally ravenous Pret or dangerous Phi Tai Hong or the tragic and startling Banshees or the creepy Santa Compana and she wouldn’t believe a word of it where it not for one thing. SHE FUCKING SAW ONE. She’ll never forget it, it was the first and last time she EVER attempted to plunder a tomb all Skyrim style and at first she thought it was one of the crewmean being creepy as shit until she got a good look and he was SEE THROUGH AS SHIT AND SKINNY AS FCUK AND SHE GOT LITERALLY CHASED THE FUCK OUT OF THAT JOINT. She does not CARE that some ghosts are just apparitions she does not CARE that some are friendly and trying to warn her of something if you are MOVING and DEAD at the SAME time get FUCKED. If any of y’all cringe try-hards bring a Ouija board to the party you are getting SENT HOME and BLOCKED. NO CAP.

Three Goals:

She really only has one left. Listen its... almost 1am and ive been typing since like 5pm i think i covered goals somewhere in here but ive gotta throw in the towel but even then I’m kinda being serious. Her only remaining goal is to find a suitable heir of some kind. She wants what she’s built to fall into worthey hands but she could never seem to find a good parter and even when she did she couldn’t sustain a pregnancy ( you’d think that would be a huge deal but it hardly mattered to her oddly ). So at 50 the option of having kids is out but there’s still plenty of hope for either adoption or a protege. But then again, she’s so busy these days that she hardly prioritizes it like she wants to.

holy shit i need some water...

#i.... i did it.. its done.. its DONE #...this took my entire saterday #i will literally pay yall actuall dollars to read all of this please... it took so long i dont want it to be for nothing qwq #x; EVER PLAYED CRAZY EIGHTS? { dash games }#x; QUITE THE PIRATE GAL { portrait }#x; WHY AREN'T YOU A CLEVER ONE? { meta }

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neutron-stars-collision · 4 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 7 - New York State of Mind

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Summary: Your first mission goes wrong and you have to face the consequences. While at the same time trying not to lose your sanity around Neil.

Warnings: Cursing.

Author’s Notes: Back to extremely long chapters! This one was a but more tricky to write due to action scenes but hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think

One could expect that after such an unexpected prelude to the meeting, you would both have difficulties staying in the roles. But surprisingly, it worked to your advantage. From the moment you stepped inside Benny’s, you were eager to do anything else but act. Your head was still a mess, and you were grateful for the distraction. Neil had to smooth his hair (thanks to you) and made sure not to touch you. You hoped that your slightly smeared lipstick would not raise any suspicious glances. In summary, it seemed as though the kiss gave you an upper hand even though you were not sure about the cost. That was until you realised what kind of person your target for the evening was.

Steiner was a rather short man with a grey buzzcut, and a permanent snarl etched on his face. He was constantly supervised by two burly, muscular bodyguards who looked like retired WWE fighters. You were pretty sure that if you were to face them, it would be the end. And Neil with his brains but insignificant physical strength would not be much better. So you said a silent prayer and sat next to your business partner at the table, facing Steiner.

The weapons dealer has led the conversation, asking you both about the most intricate details of your business and the deals you have made with the top players in the nuclear arena. He was very prepared. At first, the conversation flowed smoothly with Neil explaining your roles and what kind of enterprise you have led. But soon, the little advantage you had started to wane. Another question thrown your way made you focus your attention on the moment:

“So, this deal you have struck with Russians and Koreans” he spoke with a thick Austrian accent that reminded you of cartoon villains “How threatening is it to the US government?” he stared at you with a steel-like glare.

You shifted nervously on the seat before trying to put on your best neutral face:

“Quite threatening, I’d say” you smirked “But we’re not allowed to discuss any details for the sake of our clients. I’m sure a man like you would understand” you bated your eyelashes, hoping to use your charm.

He eyed you somewhat sleazily, and you instantly regretted the decision

“What miss Sloane means is that we can’t disclose more than we’ve already told you” your partner spoke with his deep British accent, and you stole a glance at him.

He looked tense; you could tell that he also sensed your failure.

“I need to know how the piece we’re discussing here can fit in with all this” Steiner interjected “I’ve got some big names in the weapons industry after it and wouldn’t want to anger them by selling it to somebody else” he shrugged “I have to admit that I don’t believe a word of what you’re trying to sell me” he smiled but it was more like a cruel sneer.

You felt a spike of anxiety. Watching Steiner turn towards his bodyguards, you knew that you were losing. Impulsively you reached out for Neil’s knee and squeezed it under the table. If it was not for the increasing panic, you would have noticed that he shuddered when you touched him. His eyes met yours, and you did your best to share the worry you felt. He understood, nodded, and grabbed your hand before addressing Steiner:

“If you don’t want to sell the piece to us, it’s your loss really”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the bodyguards ushering people out of the room. Fuck. You quickly reached for the clutch bag in your lap. Soon it was just the five of you left in the bar.

“Who do you work for?” the Austrian got up and leaned on the table “MI6? FBI? Huh?” his cold gaze somehow got even icier.

That was it. You have royally fucked it, so to speak. Clutching Neil’s hand, you leaped up from your seat and trained your eyes on the bodyguards. Their hands were ready on the guns.

“Do you really think that top intelligence organisations would be interested in this?” Neil clung to his charm as one does to a lifeline “You’re making a very stupid decision right now. I just want you to think about that for a moment”

“I’m done thinking”

Steiner turned towards the henchmen again. Neil met your gaze with a serious expression and pushed you behind him, reaching for the gun hidden underneath the jacket.

“Kill them both. They’re spies” the Austrian barked out the order at his bodyguards.

At his words, all hell broke loose. All four of you reached for the guns, with fingers ready on the triggers. The bodyguard was quickest, and before you could react, you were pushed to the ground by Neil. The gunshot rang in the quiet room, and you looked around fervently to see who has been hit. Your eyes fell on your partner, who has doubled over with a pained expression. You saw a small crimson stain spread through the white of his shirt on the side of the torso. Your eyes widened with realisation. You have been stood in the exact spot before Neil shielded you. Another salve of gunshots echoed with bullets raining down. Neil kept his post, but you could tell that he was suffering. You jumped back on your feet and aimed the gun at the bodyguard closest to you. You fired and watched as the bullet hit him square in the the chest. He fell dead. Steiner was not expecting that. He stared at you with a panicked expression before being dragged out of the room by the only henchman left. You breathed out. That was probably your only chance at escape.

“Are you okay?” Neil’s worried voice and his hand on your shoulder threw you out of the stupor.

“It’s not me who has been shot” you glanced at the spreading bloody stain on his side and frowned “We should leave before they come back”

“Right” he squeezed your shoulder before reaching down to take your hand in his.

You stared at him surprised, but before you could ask, he led you out of the bar and into the street. Outside you stopped to look at him, searching for any signs of pain. He met your gaze with uncertainty. You briefly wondered if things between you have changed for the worse irrevocably.

“Are you alright?” you finally asked, echoing him from only minutes prior.

“Of course” he attempted a sly grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes “Never been better” the hand that was still holding yours tightened the hold “We should go”

Reluctantly, you let him lead you back to the hotel. After a few minutes of awkward silence, you could not help but point out:

“You shouldn’t have shielded me back there. I can shoot well” you glared but refused to meet his eye.

Your joined hands were like a harsh reminder of what happened tonight. You felt his thumb brush over your knuckles and inhaled sharply.

“I know you can, but I didn’t want you to be shot” his raw tone surprised you “And please don’t ask why because I’m not sure I could explain”

You stopped in your tracks to stare at him. He dropped your hand. This evening can’t get harder, can it?

“Neil…” you started, unsure of what you wanted to say.

“Please not now” he was looking at you with fondness “We’ll talk, but first we need to get back to the hotel” he moved too fast and flinched from pain.

In an instant, you were at his side, brushing away the lapel to look at the state of his shirt. It was slick from blood, and it started to seep through the jacket as well. That was all you needed to pick up your pace and withhold any questions. When you got to the hotel, it became clear that you would need to create a distraction to get through the lobby. Stopping just a few paces away from the door, you turned to him.

“I’ve got an idea, but I’m not sure you’ll like it” you announced, feeling panic even at the thought itself.

“Fire away” his face was quite pale “I’m sure it’s brilliant”

You took a deep breath before blurting out the terrible plan that somehow formed in your head:

“Just embrace me so that your wound is obscured by my dress. If you wrap your arms around my waist, they’ll think we’re just… too cosy and won’t ask questions” you were pretty sure you will regret it soon enough.

Neil stared at you, clearly considering it, before asking:

“Are you sure that’s okay?” he stepped a bit closer as if trying to assess your level of sanity.

“Yeah” you shrugged and met his gaze “It was my idea after all”

After another few seconds of scrutiny, he smiled lightly and pulled you closer by placing his hands on your waist. The touch was too familiar. You shivered at the contact, immediately cursing yourself for coming up with the plan. But there was no time to suffer, so you just wrapped your arm around his neck and started toying with the hair ends at the nape of his neck. Hugging each other like that, you walked into the hotel lobby. There, naturally, only to be more believable, you allowed yourself to rest your head on Neil’s shoulder. Breathing in his scent, you felt his hands brush over your back and stomach. He leaned down to place a small kiss on your temple, and you felt your cheeks grow warmer. That moment was doing nothing to help clear your head. It was, in fact, the worst idea that you ever came up with.

No-one stopped you on the way to the lift, where once the door shut, you quickly entangled yourself from Neil and took a step away. Now your dress too was stained with blood. You did not dare look at him until you were absolutely forced to. You felt his gaze burning into the side of your head and roaming over your figure.

“Sorry about the dress” he said finally, just as you disembarked the lift.

“Don’t worry about it” you managed a small smile and met his gaze.

You stared at each for a short while, but this time you both were cautious. You felt strange, only now fully realising what happened tonight. Everything, beginning with the kiss, was like a fevered dream. Somewhere on the verge of your consciousness, you remembered that you killed a man tonight. But you knew that the reality of the situation will only dawn on you later. Now all you cared about was Neil and his shirt soaked with blood. Sobering up, you took his hand and started leading him down the corridor. Then you both went into his room, and you let go of his hand, desperately trying to control the situation.

“Shouldn’t we call for the emergency team?”

But before you managed to finish the question, your eyes widened. Neil just stripped his jacket, followed by the tie and shirt. The clothes landed on a pile on the floor, and he met your astounded look with a smirk:

“Why are you so shocked? It’s not like you’ve not seen me like this before” he winked, enjoying your startled state.

“Do you always have to be such an arse?” you focused on glaring at him to avoid looking at anything else.

“Only for you, my dear” with that he disappeared into the bathroom.

Right… maybe things are not quite so different.

You gave yourself a mental slap to the face before following Neil. He was looking at the gunshot wound in the mirror as you tentatively approached him. It looked rather bad with a significant blood loss. Pushing away the rising concern, you took one of the spare towels, dipped it in water, and begun to clean the wound. You surprised him with your actions, and he visibly tensed when the cloth touched the wound. Briefly, you wondered whether it was because of you or from the pain.

Once all of the dried blood was removed from the area, it was clear that the bullet was still inside. It has most certainly missed any vital organs, and that was good news. You took a step back to assess his state and was met with a very intense look from Neil. You had a feeling that if it was not for the gravity of the situation, you would not be able to stop yourself from making another mistake. But now was certainly not the time.

“We really should call for a doctor” your voice was weirdly hoarse “Someone needs to take out the bullet”

“There’s no need, I’ve done it before” you watched with horror as he reached for a pair of tweezers.

Slapping his hand away, you glared:

“Neil”

“What? You don’t have to look while I do it” he shrugged and once again tried to pick at the wound with the metal instrument.

You grabbed his wrist in a tight grip and met his gaze with defiance.

“Even if you’ll somehow manage to extract the bullet, someone should see it” you hated how close to pleading you were “You could get an infection”

For the first time, he seemed speechless, thinking hard about the next counterargument. Then, as his eyes lit up with the well-known smug smile on his lips, you knew what was coming.

“You must really care about my well-being” he mused, looking way too pleased.

“Yes. I do” you replied seriously “So please, stop this alpha male self-reliance bullshit, and let me get help” you let go of his wrist and looked into his eyes, not hiding the annoyance and worry you felt.

He searched your eyes for a moment before nodding.

“Thank you” you whispered.

Before you could leave the bathroom to dial the number, Neil quickly grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles while looking into your eyes with fondness and admiration. It was too much too soon. You drew your hand away and left the room without looking behind.

*** The emergency team just had to know your exact location, mission code, and an answer to the set secret question, which was a way of assuring your identity. They registered your call and promised to arrive within fifteen minutes.

You were not ready to face Neil again, so you just changed into comfortable clothes, discarding the bloodied dress in the bathroom corner. You felt impossibly tired, with a pounding headache and aching body. Just as you considered collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep in an instant, you heard a knock on the connecting doors. You sighed and called out:

“Come in”

The door creaked, and you could see Neil’s silhouette leaning on the wooden frame.

“They should come soon” you announced, feeling the awkwardness settle between you.

It was only fair, you thought. At some point, you both had to understand what happened, and surely it would mean that things would be somewhat different.

“Sorry about earlier. I know I can be annoying sometimes” you turned to look at him at the admission.

“Yeah, you really can” you frowned, and he smiled at the sight.

You observed each other in silence. You were grateful that he kept his distance so you could keep your sanity intact for the moment.

“I wish I understood why the mission failed” he mused out loud “I would’ve sworn we had him figured out”

“Not everyone falls victim to your charm, Neil” you glanced up at him with a tired smile.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the knock echoing from his room interrupted him. He seemed hesitant so you just nodded. He took one last look at you before leaving to open the door.

Once it was clear that it was the emergency team that arrived, you made an effort to show up and have a look at them. It was a small group consisting of one woman and three men, all familiar with Neil and rather indifferent towards you. Nothing new then. After they made sure you were perfectly fine and you have logged in the mission into the system, it was made clear that you were no longer needed.

Perhaps it was for the better. You managed to steal one last glance at Neil through the bathroom door left cracked open. His wound was being stitched, and he looked a bit worse for wear. But he was alive, and that was what mattered. With that knowledge, you quietly retired to your own room and locked the door.

Sighing, you finally got into the bed and tried to relax. Soon enough, the images from the bar began flashing before your eyes. You always expected your first kill to be harsh, but the events of the day made it worse. You just hoped for a little rest during the night. And no nightmares.

*** A journey back to Boston could be summed up with one word – awkward. The emergency team took you back in their minivan, which meant spending 4 hours in silence or risking small talk. You preferred to stay quiet and look out through the window, worried that the conversation with strangers could prove to be difficult. Even talking to Neil seemed like a hard achievement at the moment. Apart from exchanging a rather stiff ‘good morning’ upon meeting, you did not speak with each other at all. And it did hurt. The only consolation were the few looks you stole from him when everyone else seemed distracted.

By the time you arrived at the HQs, the prospect of the post-mission briefing with TP seemed almost exciting. You followed Neil to the conference room, where the boss was already waiting for you. You watched as him and Neil embraced and smiled at the sight.

“It’s good to see you both back… almost intact” the Protagonist warily eyed Neil’s side “How are you?”

“Oh it’s nothing” Neil waved his hand dismissively before looking at you pointedly “If it wasn’t for someone’s panic, I wouldn’t even need the doctor’s help”

You glared and tried to control your emotions, not to make a scene in front of someone else. But TP just chuckled, eyeing you both with interest.

“You should thank Y/N for potentially saving your ass” he joked, and you smiled, glad someone stood up for you.

“Yeah exactly, I never got a thank you” feeling braver, you approached them and joined the small circle in the centre of the room.

“In which case, apologies m’lady” Neil took a step towards you and took your hand in his “And thank you” he kissed the back of your hand, all the while maintaining eye contact.

You blushed and quickly took a step back.

“No worries” you looked back at the Protagonist warily, but he only grinned. It did seem like he was used to moments like that involving his colleague. The thought made you feel strange, and you were not sure if it was due to jealousy or something else.

“Okay, tell me what happened with Steiner”

You all sat down at the table, and Neil began to summarise the mission:

“We contacted Raul, who helped us set up the meeting with Steiner. The pretext was that we’re dealing with nuclear weapons and are intrigued by his newest offer. We prepared our roles rather well, I think” he glanced at you as though trying to ascertain what you remembered from the day.

You looked down, suddenly overwhelmed with the images and feelings. The flirting, the persisting touch on your knee, the way he looked at you just before the kiss. You swallowed hard and tried to compose yourself as Neil continued the story.

“The beginning of the meeting went well, but then he started getting suspicious, and nothing was working on him. Once he started giving signs to his bodyguards, we knew that the mission has been compromised so we prepared for the showdown. I got shot in the side before Y/N took out one of the minions. Steiner then left with the other one, and we evacuated” he finished and took a sip from the glass of water.

You stared at him, wondering why he omitted the detail about the bullet being meant for you. But he only acknowledged your gaze with a curt nod. Clearly now was not the time for important conversations. TPs voice brought you out of the thoughts:

“Do you think he has been warned?”

“Maybe” you spoke up, and they both looked at you “But to me, it seemed more like he was scared of disappointing a client to whom he promised the piece” you tried to remember the exact things said “He definitely mentioned something about powerful people being after the plutonium and that he doesn’t want to anger them”

“Good point” Neil nodded “I wish we could have gotten a name out of him”

“I have a few candidates” the Protagonist’s dark gaze stared into space with confidence “But it’s too early to share their names” he smiled apologetically.

Neil sighed and commented:

“It’s always too early for you to share anything” he glared at his friend.

“I know, and as usual, I’m sorry” you observed them both with interest “Soon you’ll know why I’m keeping all those secrets from you”

“I fucking hope so because I’m getting tired of all those half-truths” Neil’s gaze grew darker, and you wanted to reach out and take his hand.

Instead, you only stared as he got up and started pacing the room.

“What’s next in store then?” he asked after a short tense silence.

Before TP could answer, an agent burst into the room:

“I’m sorry boss, but Neil, you’re needed in the field” he looked panicked.

“Right now?” Neil’s gaze quickly flitted between all of you present in the room.

“Yes, it’s urgent” with that the agent left the room.

Then you watched curiously as Neil and the Protagonist exchanged a short conversation without speaking out loud. Then TP focused on the laptop screen with his back turned, while Neil approached you:

“I’m sorry about this” he looked into your eyes earnestly.

Once again, he meant everything, and you nodded. There was not much point in being angry at the universe, was there?

“It’s okay. We’ll talk when you’re back” gently, you reached out to brush away a stray strand that was falling into his eyes “Just be safe out there and… come back to me” you forced a small smile, tracing the sharp outline of his jaw.

Even though you were acutely aware of not being alone in the room, for once you did not care. Things were far from clear between you, but now there was no time to focus on all that you did not understand.

“Always” Neil beamed back “Wouldn’t want you to suffer life without me for too long” he smirked.

You lightly smacked him in the chest, not hiding the feelings that could be seen in your eyes. Neil understood; you were sure of that. A sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment, and he sighed.

“I’ll text you” he squeezed your hand for goodbye and left the room without a further word.

Does he even have my number?, you wondered before remembering about TPs presence in the room. He was watching you quietly with a small smile on his face. His expression made you braver.

“You know something you haven’t told us” you mused out loud “About me and him” you added.

He shrugged while still looking at you with an amused gleam in his eyes.

“I only know that while Neil can be an annoying piece of shit sometimes, you do like him. Despite yourself” he chuckled at your horrified expression “Now, why don’t we have a little something to eat while we talk?”

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion #gifs not mine

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raziroo · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3 | I Am Not At All Wise

Pairing: There's hints, but none

Genre: Angst?

Warnings: Overly Casual Mentions of Depression and Anxiety, Mentions of Trading of Lives

Word Count: 1,926

Author's Note: This might appear a little rushed, because I got this sudden surge of inspiration and sat down to write this and this isn't even proofread. Sorry, hehe.

‘Guys, what’s wrong with you?! This my father we’re talking about, my father! Why are you so hesitant to trade him for Lotor?’

The tense energy in the room only became even more suffocating when Pidge let that question, among others, loose like cannonballs. I was glad I was sitting even a bit away from the ongoing discussion, because the questions and not up to par answers were succeeding in making me uncomfortable. After all, the topic at hand wasn’t light at all – a topic such as trading of lives is one that questions your morals, your beliefs, literally everything you, as a person, stand for. I stared at Pidge, her absolutely enraged expression making me gulp nervously`. If Pidge didn’t get her father back now, after finding out his destination, then God knows how many shots are going to get fired at whom. And although I’m not saying that Pidge is wrong, she isn’t even right.

That’s confusing.

What I meant to say was, that although Pidge’s actions and fury and incredulousness were fully justified, it didn’t mean that we could all just nod heads in tandem and send Lotor off as some sort of pig for slaughter in exchange of Pidge’s dad. It wasn’t fair.

As my eyes lost focus, I recalled Captain America’s words – we don’t trade lives.

I snapped out of my thoughts. I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t, ultimately. Heading to my room now instead of just sitting there and making myself look like an unopinionated fool wasn’t helping me anyways, and neither was Lotor’s presence a couple feet beside me.

I decided to head to my room.

After all, that was what I was best at, wasn’t it? After finally accepting that I was a time traveler and couldn’t ever see my friends or family ever again and that aliens did actually exist, and not just on Mars (wait, did aliens exist on Mars? I never asked that), all I did for a good sum of time was hide in my room. Activities except hiding in my room included roaming through the castle and running to my room as soon as I deducted any trace of intelligent life near me, being strangely intimate with the white lion – intimacy including venting about how I was probably depressed, possibly had anxiety, caressing the lioness because she’s beautiful, and nestling in her cockpit because she felt like home – and running to my room when Shiro questioned me about my connection with White.

A bit after, when I felt more reassured and had begun craving human communication, I finally emerged from my cave, only to find that some of the Paladins didn’t seem too happy with my presence. Time went on, spirits fell, only to rise once again in blazing hopes of dethroning Zarkon, and my naturally social abilities helped me blend in with the Paladins soon. A lot of the comfort I felt among the Paladins, I owed to Shiro and Hunk. Those two were literally angels, especially to me. I couldn’t count on all the fingers of the Paladins and Allura combined how may times those two, and occasionally Lance, came to offer me a hug or talk to me when I looked glum. Even Allura and Pidge talked to meif they were free. The only person I had problems interacting with was Keith. But we’d nod to each other, say our greetings, and I accepted that. I couldn’t be besties with everyone. However, mine and Keith’s communication skills only worsened and problems only increased once Shiro disappeared. Keith straight up would refuse to pilot the Black Lion, and even when he finally agreed, he was so unorganized and his decisions so rash it was costing the coalition. When Lions started becoming unstable to fight after longer, tougher battles, White was expected to fill in. After all, it was the White Lion’s purpose – to be the mind of Voltron when the Paladins couldn’t, to keep the soul, fire, water, air and flora elements in check, Allura had once said to me. Only, White needed a pilot, a Paladin. And all expectations of being White’s pilot were pinned on me, naturally, because I was the one who seemingly materialized in her cockpit out of nowhere.

I, obviously, failed to do that. Because apparently (and quite obviously, if I do say so myself) even though White warmed up the cockpit for me when I slept there and seemed to purr when I caressed her face, I wasn’t worthy enough, in her gaze, to be a Paladin. And I truly had no qualms about that. The only issue was that Keith wasn’t satisfied with that. Pidge and Lance tried to hide it, but they too, felt that I should try harder. Hunk comforted me when I accidentally let the hurt I was feeling shine through. Allura tried to convince everyone that it wasn’t my fault at all, that the Lions only accepted whom they deemed fit to Pilot them, and the reason the White Lion even was the “extra” Lion in the first place was that it was hardest than any of the other Lions to convince to be Pilot of. It was simply too calculating and cynical and choosy – and I agreed with White wholly, because stepping in as the voice of reason, as the mind of Voltron when all these worthy, noble, brave people who were specifically selected to be the defender and judge of the universe when no one else could failed to do their jobs, then you needed to be one hell of a person to be honoured with the name “White Paladin of Voltron”.

When Shiro had come back, or as he said, when Keith brought him back, the Castle seemed to light up more. I understood why he was chosen to be the soul to combine the other elements and form Voltron. I was ecstatic, perhaps happier than some of the Paladins even, but that didn’t mean I didn’t notice – or rather, didn’t choose to shrug off - his strange and simply out of character behaviour at times. I wasn’t the only one that did. It was when I voiced to White about my concerns, and she glowed – literally glowed as if in agreement did I know that shit was serious. White, as weirdly impossible as it sounds, also noticed. She knew, too, that something wasn’t right with Shiro. It was beyond me how she did, but I didn’t get to ponder on that for too long.

Why?

Because Lotor happened. He arrived as our saviour at the most unexpected moment and in the most unexpected way, and then became unpredictability, unanswered questions, and uncertainty personified for us. How many rifts and arguments he alone had caused between the Paladins was the slightest bit alarming, but justified, in my opinion. Lotor had succeeded in messing up our functioning. It didn’t matter if it was only a tad – he was the anthropomorphic form of all the flaws and hesitancies and wrongs and uncertainties in the coalition that we’d turned a blind eye to.

And now Zarkon had offered us Pidge’s dad’s freedom in exchange of Lotor, but I would be lying if I said if I wasn’t the tiniest bit worried as to just what Zarkon would do to Lotor. I know, I know, I really was no one to be straining my brain for that, since Lotor was an alien Prince who had equal chances of being good and evil, was capable of killing us all if he wished to, and had probably endured worse than his father’s wrath. But that wasn’t even the biggest issue we had. Pidge getting fired up was reasonable enough, I was aware of how emotionally driven she could become at times despite being a genius. And her brain refusing to work when her family came into play was the reason I was bothered most – even if she convinced the other Paladins to go through with the exchange, there was absolutely no surety that Zarkon would keep his part of the deal. It was legit the dumbest, most irrational thing the protagonist could do. If that happened, we’d lose both Pidge’s father, and an extremely valuable asset to the coalition.

I didn’t really realize that during my very acceptable train of self-depreciating thoughts I’d changed my route and had instinctively begun for White. I guess it was only right, as I felt more at ease there than anywhere. It was only when I reached her and stroked her, she seemed to… close in on her herself. I furrowed my brow, a small frown on my lips.

I sighed. It was probably nothing.

Relaxing my facial muscles, I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and nudged White’s snout. I jumped back with a start when instead of the usual purr or whimper, she growled at me. The crease between my brows returned with a higher intensity.

‘What is it, girl? Hmm?’ I cooed at her, not risking touching her. ‘Is something wrong? Do you not want to talk? Should I go?’

Silence was what I received in exchange.

‘My love,’ yes I called White “my love”, “girl”, have and will continue to call her “babe”, and no you cannot do jack about it. ‘You need to tell me, please,’ I continued, my voice gentle as ever, ‘how am I supposed to know what you want to say? You’ve never growled at me before. I don’t know how to interpret that gesture. Do I take it as you being upset? Angry? Sad?’ She still didn’t answer. All the life seemed to leave her.

I tilted my head. My sigh bounced off the walls.

‘The White Lion is said to be the mind of Voltron,’ a naturally assertive, deep, thunder-like voice called. I was sure I jumped at least a foot before whipping my head to where the voice resonated from. Lotor. What -?

‘Forgive me if I scared you. I thought it wise to offer some assistance; you seemed to be in need of help.’

I didn’t answer. He took it as a “yes, I need your help”. ‘The most probable reason it is not responding to your calls, is because you are contradicting what the White Lion stands for, you aren’t being wise. That is, assuming the Lion does answer you typically.’

I turned back to White, my jaw setting. My lingering suspicion turned into certainty at Lotor’s remarks.

Well. As much as I cherished my relations with White, I wasn’t going to voice my thoughts and concerns regarding the life trade. I wasn’t particularly keen on getting involved. I wasn’t the White Paladin. I wasn’t the voice of reason. I couldn’t be. This was the exact reason as to why I couldn’t be the White Paladin. I had many a thought, but didn’t always think it wise to share them with others.

Especially not when “others” included a leader that was not being himself, a princess who wanted to get rid of the Galra empire and Zarkon as soon as possible no matter the cost, and a Paladin who was going feral and becoming blind by rage at the thought of not getting her father back when she was so close.

Yes. Now definitely not.

Without sparing Lotor or White another glance, I headed to my room, for real this time. I didn’t notice both of their piercing gazes aimed at my retreating figure.

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

Note

this is so strange to ask, but could you write something about Mando and the reader and about their age gap (she’s 20/22 - that’s because technically he’s 33/34 - i don’t remember well)? choose you if something fluff or anything else, obviously just if u have free time!! ☀️

This is not strange at all man, and yes I think that’s about right. Or at least it sounds right to me.

I decided to go for fluffy fluff with a smudge of angst and mentions of smut on this one since I’ve been writing a lot of smut lately, buuuuut if you all would like a smutty part two I would be more than happy to oblige as soon as I can!

This is also unedited and short I apologize.

You hate this.

Din—you were there when Moss Gideon called him by his true name—is sitting with the Child in the hull, rolling that metal ball towards him on the floor, gently so that the Child has a chance to grab it. When the baby giggles, you grin and there’s a soft noise that escapes through the vocoder. It makes your heart swell with a longing ache.

When you first met Din, you never thought in a million galaxies that it would go this far. That one job would lead to another with your skills, and eventually you would become the Child’s caretaker. That slowly, as you became more familiar, the Mandalorian started to creep into your every daydream. It soon escalated into your every thought, your every breath, and the butterflies in your stomach that flutter in a frenzy when you were around him; the very same ones that still reside within the confines of nervous giddiness.

At first, you chalked it up to a stupid crush. You are young, early twenties, and he’s a man; just in his early thirties, and illuminating every bit of swagger and enigma that was just sexy and appealing to you. And Din is nothing but good towards you, even stoic and ever so distant in his way. He’s kind when he’s not bounty hunting, he’s soft when it’s just the three of you on the Razor Crest—with the Child more than you, obviously, but he never once has asked you to leave the room if you sit from afar and watch. It’s something that you could easily get over and eventually move on from. You said this to yourself every day and night when your thoughts drifted to that Din Djarin cloud of yours, and occasionally—if the need was too much—you’d stick your hand down your pants and think of his cock inside you as you came.

Then he almost died. That broke you, made you realize that it was all more than just a crush; somewhere along the lines, you fell in love with him. Hard. Life is funny like that.

But he just doesn’t feel the same about you and you will never be the to make him laugh like that and no doubt smile. You will never even have a chance of feeling a sliver of his bare skin against yours, or the brush of his lips. You will never hear any adoring words of affection from him that’ll turn you into a puddle of lovey gooiness. It’s something you have to endure and suffer through.

“Hey.”

You blink through your daydream, realizing that Din—Mando, you have to remember to call him; Din is too… personal and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable—has been calling your name.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Just… thinking.”

“Yeah.” The modulator crackles. “Are you hungry?”

As much as it sounds appealing to you, you're in too much stress right now to put in the effort to eat, so you shake your head no and watch as he sighs and stands up. He stands in place and wobbles with one foot poised in one direction and the other in yours. It’s like he’s contemplating something and that brings your undivided attention.

“Did I—did I do something?” He asks with uncertainty.

You blink dumbly at him. “W-what do you mean?” You curse yourself for how weak you sound.

“I—” He stops, puts his head down for a moment, then whips it back up to you and clenches his fist. “I mean did I do something to make you… distant?”

Distant? Oh. Oh. You thought you were really good at concealing your emotions, you really did. But you’re not as good as you like to imagine and now the jig is up. You’re going to have to tell him, because he’s, well he’s the Mandalorian; the one you’ve been partners with for a while, so he knows when you’re lying and you just—you need to tell him. It’s only fair to the both of you.

You wring your hands nervously in your lap and chew on your bottom lip. Your heart is pounding against your chest rather uncomfortably that spreads to the rest of your body and makes your leg start to bounce with the increasing anxiety.

C’mon. This is now or never.

“Mando I’m—I’m in love with you.” It practically comes out a whimper, and it’s too fucking quiet but you take a deep breath and will yourself to keep going. “And I know that that probably makes you uncomfortable, and that you don’t feel the same way at all. So I’ll… you can drop me off at the next stop. I’ll be okay.”

As painful as it was saying, you can’t deny how good it feels letting it all out. Din—Mando—appears to be in shock. His whole body is stiff, and you’re sure if you poked him he would sway under the miniscule pressure. Your stomach is in knots, awaiting his response to your confession with tears burning in the back of your eyes. But you will not cry, not here and not now.

“You think—” He chuckles, deep but without humor. “And here I was sitting here thinking that you didn’t like me.”

Wait. What? Is this real?

A gust of air escapes you with an airy laugh. “Wha—wow.” You don’t know what else to say. It’s like your brain is short circuiting, blank and unyielding in its chaos.

“Yeah.” He sighs and takes tentative steps towards you until he plops himself down next to you, but doesn’t face you; he stares ahead at the Child. It’s quiet for a little, sans the gurgles and babbles, and you take this moment of silence to collect your thoughts.

“Why did you think that I didn’t like you?” You finally whisper.

The helmet tilts down. “Because… because you’re so young.” He whispers. “And I was trying to spare you from making you uncomfortable or—or hating me. And you still—” He stops.

You nod your head eagerly and encourage him with a small smile. You need to know.

“And you still call me Mando.” He relents. “I know that sounds stupid, and I know that you’re just being respectful and I appreciate that. But I don’t know, the doubt started to creep in when you didn’t ask your silly little questions like you always do, especially about my name.”

This is all just… ridiculous. You start to giggle, and you can’t stop even when the visor stares quizzically at you and you feel him tense even more beside you.

“I-I’m sorry it’s just,” you manage to croak. “It’s just this whole time, and our own insecurities were holding us back.”

It takes a minute, but eventually you hear that sweet, raspy and robotic chuckle filter through the helmet. Your heart swells and your smile is wide to the point of discomfort that you can’t stop.

“And with the age thing,” you start. “I don’t care about that. I’m an adult and you’re an adult. Just because your bones crack when you stand and you groan when you have to bend down does not mean I love you any less.”

You grin at the end and expect him to argue back, or to laugh with you.

“...Can I kiss you?”

Maker. Maker this is really happening.

You lick your lips and nod, not fully trusting your voice.

“Close your eyes.” It comes out soft, almost a whisper.

You look towards the Child, who must have fallen asleep on the blanket Mando—Din, you can call him Din now—laid out as they played, and close your eyes. The anticipation is killing you already and it’s only been a second, but you’ve been waiting so long for this and it’s finally within your grasp. There’s a loud hiss that makes you slightly jump.

Then there’s a soft wisp against your lips; that small ghost of air that flows from his mouth onto your awaiting kiss, teasing you. You keep your eyes tightly shut as he palms your cheeks in his hands—bare and rough but soft against and you wonder just when he took those gloves off—and he presses his lips against yours.

At first it’s soft, just a cautious press. It’s still enough to take your breath away, to have to fight back the urge to keen into him and throw yourself onto him. Then he finally, finally, kisses you harder. You immediately gasp and he clumsily fits his mouth against yours, trying to move in perfect sync. You follow his lips, losing yourself to the language of this kiss; the first of the many that are to come, the one that’s a little unsure but absolutely reventing in the simplicity of it, begging for more and more. When you trail the tip of your tongue against his plump lip, you swallow his moan and explore the divine taste of him. Din responds just as eagerly and your body is on fire, and he’s the cooling water and the smoldering flame at the same time, bringing you into his warmth and completely enveloping you into… into his everything.

You whine when he pulls away for air, and he indulges you into a few more pecks before he completely pulls away. It feels cold but your swollen lips thump with an untainted love that’ll keep you sated; at least for a little while.

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @dadzawas-eyebags, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @vikingqueen28, @tedpicklez, @blunt-cake-yes, @agoldin, @lustriix, @readsalot73, @kateb013, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater, @everything-lost-and-unsaid, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale, @fangirlfree, @mrsparknuts, @amarvelousmandalorian, @ironheart-hanako, @bunniotomia, @thisisthe-way, @rosadorando, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell, @acrylics-and-sunshine, @sunkissed-winter, @oloreaa, @equalstrashflavoredtrash

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #star wars #the mandalorian imagines #requests

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erinelezabeth920 · 4 years

Text

Love in the Time Of

Shame. Is the thing I want to talk about. Love in the time of shame.

I mean I don’t really want to talk about it. I’d really rather not actually, except that I have the sneaking suspicion that I’m not the only one. Not by a long shot. So here we go. Last night I wanted to go to bed by 10pm, so I could get up early and go on a run BEFORE signing into Zoom at 7:45am to lead a yoga meditation class for my friends and family, BEFORE doing some reading of self-help books and solo meditation BEFORE I start trying to do an impossible job from my living room for an unclear number of hours per day with an attention span of basically zero to negative.

When I write this it sounds absurd. I know that. But brains are weird. Especially mine. Remember the anxiety based overfunctioning/ underfunctioning I talked about last time? Overfunctioning much? Anyway, that didn’t happen. We had finished a DnD session with my brother and college roommate, (my character is a rouge-gnome named Huckleberry Shake who has short purple hair, is really good at sneaking and lock picking, and carries a crossbow. I like to imagine a sort of cross between ‘Midsummer's Night Dream’ and Assassin’s Creed’.) Anyway, it was around 9:30 ish pm. It was also Cinco de Mayo, and we had picked up tacos from the neighborhood about a 15 minute drive south with a strong hispanic/ latinx population. The past couple weeks I’ve been referencing that line in ‘Wet Hot American Summer’ where they all pile into the pick up truck to go into town and go batshit crazy. “It always feels good to get away from camp, even for an hour!” Just to drive somewhere to pick up food feels like a crazy adventure these days.

I made us magaritas when I got back; they were bright blue because we had some kind of blue liquor that I can’t remember the name of. After DnD I wanted to watch some TV. I made myself another margarita and some popcorn, which is my quarantine coping crutch. I watched this trashy but great Netflix show about teenagers in North Carolina called Outer Banks. Except the episodes kept ending on cliff hangers (OMG he KILLED HIM?), so I kept watching. I painted my toenails purple, using packing peanuts to space them out. I was kind of proud of myself actually.

It was about midnight when I went to bed. I woke up with a small headache, a result of tequila and salty popcorn and poor quality sleep. I was going to go on a walk/ run and listen to the news. I didn’t. I snoozed the alarm about ten times. It was raining out. I led my yoga class and ate some sourdough toast. And here we are. The light is filtering through the apartment windows, as I sit on the couch in my sweat pants. The crazy thing is, I just feel SO much shame. And guilt. Guilt for having a headache, shame for not waking up early to do all these things I honestly don’t even need to do. I feel shame for not writing more often, shame when I look at the dishes that are dirty. Shame when I don’t go outside to go on a walk, exercise, or when I close my work laptop early to lie on the couch and scroll through my phone. I’ve been trying the past couple weeks to figure out this phenomena that seems to be happening to me, but also to other people I talk to. I feel okay for about 3 days, and then completely collapse. I just can’t do anything, flatline, but there doesn’t really seem to be a direct cause. It’s just like dropping on the roller coaster without warning. I was telling a friend the other day that on weekends, all I do is sleep. Usually I’m a very active person who has an almost clincally hard time sitting still. I haven’t felt like this, I told him, since I worked the hardest jobs in my life- full time wilderness therapy or residential treatment for children with Autism working 12 hour days. I work MAYBE six hours a day these days but probably more like four, broken up by lying on the couch watching documentaries and scrolling on my phone. So why am I SO DAMN EXHAUSTED?

I did some research the other week into chronic stress for a newsletter article I was writing for parents of my elementary school. Chronic stress is different than acute stress, I found, because it has no concrete beginning and end. It’s not like a car crash or a loved one dying. Instead (for those of us with the intense privelage not to be on the front lines- god bless if you are) it’s a constant low hum in the background through news headlines, grocery store lines and crossing the street when another person is coming your direction on the sidewalk. It’s a disruption of normality with no conceivable ending, sending our brains into a low key 24/7 flight or fight mode, draining us with tiny doses of adrenaline and uncertainty that build up over time. It’s not in the forefront, but it’s there in our tight shoulders, exhaustion, inattention, insomnia, short fuses and total lack of motivation. Until we can’t take it any more and crash, seemingly out of nowhere. And then the whole thing starts again.

As Brene Brown says, “We’ve hit our collective weary.” In one podcast episode she interviews a grief expert. He says, we are all grieving right now. Even if we don’t name it, we’re showing the symptoms. But instead of grieving the death of an individual (for most of us), we are grieving the lifestyles we’ve lost (work settings, close contact, friendships, normalcy). And grief exhausts us. BUT, because most of us aren’t experiencing acute grief (ie a loved one dying) we feel shame on TOP of that grief, that we shouldn’t be tired or inept when others have it SO much worse. It’s a meta emotion. Shame layered on grief like a terrible lasagna. How can we be justified in experiencing grief when all we do is sit on the couch and watch Netflix and eat snacks for hours a day? We’re not even in a wartime or something concrete that gives justification and purpose. Instead it’s just a vague, deep sense of disruption of life as we know it. But it’s just as real. I was walking on the beach at the time I listened to the podcast; when he said the words, “We are grieving the loss of the world as we knew it,” the sun was setting over the water. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

A few weeks ago, Andy cut my hair. When the pieces fell to the floor of our friend’s porch and the scissors snipped away larger chunks than I woud have liked, my stomach dropped. I started panicking. I felt like the world was ending. I don’t panic when I read the news, go to the grocery store in a mask, or even read the death toll. But when my hair fell to the ground around me in the gathering twilight, I absolutely lost it. I came home and sobbed. It was the first time I’d cried since the pandemic began, and it’s like it just all came out. I was so angry at Andy, and he felt so bad. I was a shell of a person for twelve hours. I cancelled morning yoga for the first time in six weeks, lamenting everyone would have look at me close up on a screen. I wanted to stay in bed forever, (until we fixed the haircut and it actually looked pretty good). But for a second there I was broken, and it was because of a goddamn haircut. I mean for Christ sakes, people are dying out there. It made me feel so petty and stupid. There’s a global pandemic happening, and I am distraught FROM MY HAIR?!

But that’s how grief works. We can’t look at the thing head on, it’s too much. A death toll is just numbers. Our brains seek to survive, to normalize, to adapt just to get through. So instead the trauma seeps into the corners, slowly creeping into our bodies and collective exhaustion until one little thing causes the world to come crashing down. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. And then we feel overwhelming shame for being so affected by something so little. For me, my lizard brain was honestly convinced I would never be attractive or happy again.

(ALSO to be fair we watched, ‘Little Women’ a few days later. In the movie there’s the scene where Jo cuts all her hair off to give her mother money to travel to their sick father in the war. She’s then pictured crying under the stairwell. “Is it mother?” her sister asks. “No,” she says, “It’s MY HAIR!”. "See?!” I said to Andy.)

The underlying theme here is shame. We’re ashamed of our emotions because they don’t seem justified. Comparative suffering. My suffering isn’t nearly as bad as others, therefore I should not feel this way. I’m ashamed of myself for eating snacks and worried I’m going to gain a bunch of weight. Then I’m ashamed for being ashamed instead of being body positive. I’m ashamed of myself for enjoying an evening with drinks (yes plural), popcorn, painting my toes and watching teenagers who are actually in their twenties look for buried treasure. Honestly, it sounds like a great night. And it was.

I just finished re-reading “The Four Agreements”, the Toltec wisdom book. The first agreement is “Be Impeccable With Your Word.” I assumed from the first time I read it, it meant “always tell the truth”. The reality though, is it means, our words have power. Especially our words about ourselves. Just this morning I entered my enchilada and margaritas from yesterday into my ‘Weight Watchers’ app and felt terrible. I told myself I was fat, lazy and useless. Which seems absurd when I write it out, but that’s the honest to goodness narrative inside my head. Being impeccable with our word means watching what we say to ourselves, because our words create a reality. We create our own cycles of shame.

Even at this moment, typing this, I feel ashamed that this piece of writing is so scattered. My English major brain is mad at me. Get it together Erin. Find a cohesive theme and stick to it. Get emotional, but not too emotional. Tell stories, but not too many stories. But writing at it’s best is vulnerability and transparency; and honestly right now it’s hard to hold on to any one thought for longer than a few seconds. And I’m pretty sure it’s not just me. Little pieces, scattered thoughts, just trying to put the puzzle together. (Oh and don’t even get me STARTED on puzzles... Andy is MUCH better than me at them, and, saving the face of our relationship, let’s just say that is another dangerous straw perched on the camel’s back through only the fault of my own...) Anyway, I think at this point, just find anything that makes you smile. Literally anything. I personally like Brad Leone’s Bon Appetite Youtube channel “It’s Alive.” He makes me laugh so much. The episode with him and Orville Peck making elote almost broke me. Find those things, hold on to them and be kind to yourself. It’s okay to feel less than. Just remember you’re not. We’ve collectively hit weary, the point in the race where you’ve been running for so long, but the finish line is so far away. It’s okay just to go one step at a time.

Paint your toes. Eat your popcorn. Drink your margaritas. Whatever we can do just to survive. One step at a time. You’re not alone.

And that’s love in the time of.

#mental health #coronavirus #quarantine #seattle

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paradife-loft · 5 years

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alright, here we go.... did anybody want a write-up on my (initial/current/main) Fallen Hero protagonist? because I sure have got one, and an obsessive need to talk about this game!! :’D

they’re actually more intentionally a self-insert than most characters I play, since I didn’t really have any pre-game time in which I was considering what sort of person to play and what their name/background would be. eyyyyyy impulsivity!

anyway, on with it. some facts, as they were, about one Ishvah Bakker, formerly known as Sidestep...

Basics

Probably mixed race of some sort, or otherwise on the liminal edge of (not?) white - other people’s perceptions are crucial, and more defining than they’d like, for as long as they can remember. (Good thing they’re a telepath!)

Nonbinary and genderless and generally salty about it. (Dysphoria makes every other body-related trauma response even more fun!)

Long-ish dark brown hair, which they usually wear down or in a simple ponytail. Better than needing to think about styling it, anyways...

Aromantic bisexual. Full of angst. (Aren’t we all.)

Supervillain codename: Iconoclast

Says fuck! :D

Psych profile

Generally quiet and watchful and cautious - a thinker, a planner, a tactician, at least as far as their comfort zone goes. Curious (sometimes morbidly curious) as all hell, in a “killed the cat” sort of way. Alas, not much satisfaction has been had. More just worry about what it says about them that their curiosity can “override” alleged basic human reactions like “empathy” or “getting freaked out by gore”.

Despite the control-freak tendencies, the more a situation slips away from, or otherwise can’t be planned and controlled, the more they do Impulsive Shit. Reckless, adrenaline-junkie, can’t-sit-still-because-then-the-anxiety-will-know-where-you-live, self-endangering impulsive shit. Anything to get the situation back under their immediate influence, if not control.

Speaking of which, attitudes toward bodies? They’ve got a callous disregard for physical sensations like pain, & the (temporary) structural integrity of bodies, especially once that aren't theirs.

They’re very dissociated from bodies in general really, their own included; thinking of them as tools, and willing to let them get fucked up in the service of "more important" goals.

(Shoutout to when they had to perform surgery on themself! :D Totally not fucked up or anything. Especially that they hated seeing themself naked, especially through “another’s” eyes, more than they hated having to actually do the surgery. Nothing to see here folks, just a normal person.)

When needing to improvise interpersonally, they try to head for whatever reveals the least about who they actually are & what they're capable of - using others' preconceptions and biases to fill in blanks with whatever they're expecting. They’ll use appearing weak, tired, unassuming as a shield, but it... grates. Still, feels less dangerous and attention-grabbing than being confident.

Relatedly, they do hate losing their telepathy - the lack of sensory overload is nice, but that doesn't outweigh how... naked they feel, exposed and cut off and unsure if they can trust what they see. (Only what they see.) It’s easier in their puppet’s body, Alex, since everyone else just sees an obvious young white man and there’s no need to manage those expectations, but even so, a loss of information never feels good. (Objectively useful to learn how to manage without, but not their emotional preference.)

Yeah, even if their puppet body goes around in a binary gender, they still prefer to have a name that’s genderless to their own ears at least. Alex is common and unassuming. (And leaning into the private supervillain grandiosity in-joke with themself as far as other notable Alex(ander)s is.... entertaining. Hush, it doesn’t mean they need a life.)

They tend toward being perpetually un(der) satisfied by accomplishments as soon as they’ve just come out of the oven, as it were - a restless mind always moving onto the next step, the next thing that needs to happen. They didn’t used to be like this, did they? But it’s better like this now, considering all that’s happened.

(Perhaps because of that, perhaps in contrast, their personal apartment is done up in a surprisingly cozy way. Soft carpet and dark encompassing furniture, fabric on the walls, understated lamps and indoor string lights, and only a small window in each room. It’s one of the few things they can find calming, especially when it comes with some coffee.)

(Delicious self-medication with minor stimulants~)

And hey, the coziness is probably also nice because of how disgustingly touch-starved they are. Starved and averse all at once, really, which is just the best. (And uh, also sexually frustrated.... not that they let themselves think about that, hahahaha....... Moving on.)

The lack of sleep involved in maintaining two lives? Is absolutely getting to them, even if they don’t realise it. Sure, they think their body is getting all the rest it needs while they're in Alex's, but their brain is still active in maintaining the telepathic link such that the sleep isn't quite as restful and rejuvenating as it otherwise could be. (Well, assuming they didn’t constantly have nightmares.) Hence some of the increasing emotional instability & inability to hide their feelings when confronted with actual stressful situations.

Background

LA was the first place they ever tried to make a home, really. Or multiple different home iterations. They feel tied to the city, not least because of how the change in the place and its name feels like a macrocosm of what they’ve done switching sides themself.

Because this is a self-insert (and I do what I want, Thor), and to provide some justification for their first name, I’m thinking about their first (failed, aborted) attempt at being A Person (after getting out of whatever X-23 situation is getting teased for their origin story?) and joining any sort of community, being with a local shul. Perhaps after being helped out by people involved in a community service program? There’s a fair bit that resonate(d) with them, or at least felt good - the idea of being wanted and cared for and responsible for each other, of improving the world and doing positive deeds, of having a fucking family... They probably poked some feet into the idea of converting...

But that definitely crashed and burned. Half of it was coming to realise just how much self they’d have to put into the community to become a part of it - and they either had no self to speak of, or couldn’t risk, couldn’t feel comfortable, revealing what bits they did have. Peace was hard to come by. Comfort with uncertainty, with simultaneous opposite-seeming truths, never coalesced, and in fact felt actively threatening - as did the idea of being able to achieve any sort of relational parity with a higher power of some sort. It’s in the name, after all - a higher power is something you’ll never be able to live freely under with respect. So as that all came to a head, all the paranoia and feelings of inadequacy, they just... left. Don’t really think about it much now, don’t like to think about it, because it felt perhaps even more naive than trying to play masked hero, but... the name stuck.

As apparently did the desire to Be Good And Make Things Better, despite themself, because there they were back again with this stupid hero scheme, meeting Julia Ortega and making friends, being naive and trusting and thinking the whole damned system didn’t need to be burned down for anything to change. That other people could help protect you, that being part of a system could help protect you even if you weren’t one of the bastards at the top pulling the strings, helping nobody but themselves and their own power and pocketbooks.

Well, that sure isn’t going to happen again. This time, they’ve learned their fucking lesson.

#rambling #James liveblogs video games #(close enough)#FHR: Ishvah Bakker #I love them they're terrible #(ask me thingggsss bc there's definitely more I haven't covered! but uh this is already getting super long lmao)

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stateofgrace-acoustic · 5 years

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lover - first song ranking & thoughts

first of all i just need to say i legitimately don’t feel ‘meh’ about a single song on this album. on any other album. i always had one or two songs i was just kind of ‘take it or leave it’ about. but Lover really did that - they’re all amazing and wonderful. but here’s an attempt at an order of how much i love them!

18. it’s nice to have a friend

this really reminds me of you are in love in the way it recounts all the small gestures and steps involved in becoming close to somebody. it’s really cute and at the perfect space on the album, leading to daylight. not a mindblowing song or anything, but the vibe fits onto lover really well. i’m glad that it’s here

17. you need to calm down

yeah, i cooled down on this one a little bit. it’s fun and the message is important, but me! is the better single tbh. still though, the feeling of empowerment this gives me over my nonexistent online haters is wonderful. and i love the attitude of the song of just looking at the assholes who live their entire lives putting energy into hating people and just being like....why are you like this. it’s pathetic. calm the hell down. so needed in our current debate culture

16. me!

a real grower! taylor and brendon urie have such good chemistry, tbh that’s really the backbone of the song. it’s just a really nice carefree spring/summertime self love song, a perfect soundtrack for when you feel happy and content with yourself.

15. the man

just dropping the complete truth on us with this one. i’ve wanted taylor to make this song for years (and i know she said she’s been wanting to but just never found the right words!) the bridge really elevates this too. and it’s sad how relatable the entire song is in literally every aspect of professional (and personal) life for women. i don’t think it’s quite as strong as it could have been, but still really solid

14. i think he knows

this is like the fun version of dress. that’s all i got to say. just as explicit, but this time around it’s super cheeky and i love it. also goals of self confidence if i’ve ever seen them

13. paper rings

the joyful energy this has!! just makes you smile and want to dance immediately, a wonderful wholesome happy bop

12. false god

listen.....this is special. i absolutely think this is the most experimental song on the album, both in terms of the music (is that a saxophone in the bg?? it’s almost got a jazzy vibe? completely uncomparable to anything she’s ever done and still so distinctly Taylor), but also with the lyrics, where she goes into the love = religion theme which honestly....as a Florence + the Machine and Hozier fan, i don’t even need to go into how much of a vibe that is. I couldn’t have imagined it working so well for Taylor though, but honestly, this song feels perfectly brooding, summertimey, melancholy, - it’s almost like taking the darker underside of Cruel Summer and exploring it in depth! this is very much a song i need to be in a Specific Mood to really appreciate, but it’s damn well made

11. afterglow

i love the maturity of this. not just the apologizing for picking a fight, but explaining how it came to be - at the end, from a place deep seated anxiety. ‘it’s all me, in my head’ (those high notes are beautiful) you can really feel how sorry she is. at the same time, the song sounds like something bigger, like an anthem - almost like that place high above that she’s trying to elevate them to.

10. i forgot that you existed

SO MUCH FUN i keep repeating that but that’s just the mood of this album tbh, playful and mature at the same time. this song is just like, when you’re over someone but you just can’t help yourself and have to throw shade one last time before moving on. i love the bouncy beat!!

9. lover

this song is literally the feeling of ‘home’ in music. so cozy, comfortable, blissful. dreamy. perfect title track. also completely timeless - i think this is one of those songs that we will look back on in years as a classic in her catalogue, a song you will always want to play again

8. the archer

this was my definite favorite of the pre released songs. anxiety, doubts, the way they all just keep coming back and eating at you, it’s described so perfectly and painfully. and the production really makes it sound like you’re in a separate space from reality, just stuck in your head trying to find a way forward, to soothe yourself. the ‘they see right through me / i see right through me’ transition in the bridge is fantastic and keeps giving me chills. so much personal connection to this one

7. soon you’ll get better

feels weird to even rank this but......just wow. the harmonies with the dixie chicks are so beautiful, and the way the lyrics talk about the feeling between denial and desperate hope, the transition from “because you have to” to “because I have to” - I have to cling to this hope, or i won’t make i - it completely broke my heart. and the fact that Taylor can conjure all these complex emotions with just a guitar and a few words is incredible. i’m so so sorry for them and i wish all the best for Andrea with my entire heart.

6. london boy

i already see people underappreciating this, what is going on??? there are multiple cute bouncy joyful songs on this album but this is my favorite because it’s just got a fantastic flow and melody, and i love all of the references to places and dialect specific words and it’s just so wholesome?? but what really makes this is (once again) the bridge. stick with ME im your QUEEN like a tennessEE stella mccartNEY, just the energy!! the fun!! excuse me while i listen to this every day for the rest of my life

5. miss americana & the heartbreak prince

okay, taylor’s brain in this one. i made a post talking about how this song has three layers - at first there’s the high school setting, then it references the ‘cancelling’ of Taylor’s public persona, but then it can also be seen as a comment on US politics and the whole climate of society right now. and it’s all tied together perfectly because high school is the perfect metaphor for this!! she’s basically saying we’re all behaving like immature school children, bullying each other for the stupidest reasons, mob mentality, stupid contests, fabricated stories made up to tear people down, and the feeling of loneliness but also fear and horror that comes with all that for the people who are the victims of it.....it’s literally all like high school in the worst way. i just love this concept, and the melody and production give me a little bit of a reputation vibe almost? which is perfect for the song, the dark dramatic vibe shows the feeling of fear most of all and that’s just....too real.

4. death by a thousand cuts

........listen, i surely didn’t think that Taylor would write one of her best breakup songs in the year of our lord 2019, but here we are. it’s once again, the small moments she recounts. taking the long way home. the uncertainty if it will ever be fine again. and the bridge/second verse / whatever that part is but that entire part. ‘paper cuts from my paper thin plans’, excuse me. the fact that she wrote this about a movie where a couple breaks up after years really shows tbh, because it’s especially that kind of....not being able to find a part of yourself that isn’t influenced by the other person, that’s so horrible and makes moving on so painful. i also love the production which makes this sound so uptempo, contrasting the lyrics! idk the entire song just clicks into place for me

3. daylight

this is like a summary of the entire album (and with the reference to the past and especially red, it’s even connecting her entire discography together). it’s like the clean of this album, except this time around it feels more complex - all the subtle references to past mistakes, ghosts, that might not be so easy to wash away. i’ve already mentioned that i love about the album (and this song especially) how it doesn’t gloss over negative experiences but addresses them directly, like looking them in the eye and then saying ‘you don’t have the power to define me’. that’s what this song feels like - it’s not unabashedly celebratory, it’s actually quite melancholic, but also full of real healing, a feeling of peace and reconciliation. and the ‘i once believed love would be black and white / burning red, but it’s golden’.....excuse me.....how dare she

2. cornelia street

god, what a magical song. the kind of episodic buildup that Taylor excels at. the vibrancy of the production matching the vibrancy of the relationship as it develops, revolving around this one place in its multiple stages, and then the repeated, deep seated fear of losing all that. it’s just. ugh. what can i even say. and so so catchy. the “listen..” killed me. just like delicate, the vibe between fear and being drunk on happiness is so so well done.

1. cruel summer

oh yes. and here we have an absolute perfection of a pop song. incredible catchiness. smart, clever lyrics but also that underlying vibe of sadness and anxiety. seriously, the complexity this has?? and then that soaring bridge, the chaotic but beautiful but painful reality of all of it coming together. ‘i love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?’ idk this song just transcends everything for me friends. it’s like the vibe of out of the woods or maybe even style but the lyrics are even more sharp, they cut a little deeper, literally ‘summer’s a knife’. this is a song she only could’ve written influenced by reputation: there’s happiness but there’s that edge in it too. idk if anything i’m saying makes sense. i love this song so so so much.

#lover #taylor swift #vanessa talks #lowkey an album review lmao

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bionic-buckyb · 6 years

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When It Rains: Part 2

A Thor x Reader / Soulmate Series

Master List

⚡ You’ve been dreaming of the same voice, the same man, for as long as you can remember. You never thought that he could be real, let alone that he was the God of Thunder, your soulmate, and the key to unlocking a mysterious power within you; a power that could be used to save Thor’s homeland of Asgard, or, in the wrong hands, to destroy it.

A/N: I had SO MUCH FUN writing part one and even more fun writing this! It’s so freeing to write for other characters, especially Thor, and to explore the marvel universe more. I just hope you guys are liking it! This whole series is based (loosely) off the song Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. Thank you to @howlingbarnes, my beautiful bestie, for reading this over for me. Your asks, likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated (although if you could reblog to get it out there, i’d appreciate it the most)! I’d love to hear if you wish for me to continue [:

Word Count: 1,765

Warnings: - language. - very mild violence.

Tags: (at the end)

*gif is not mine. (credit: here)

Your heart felt like it stopped in your chest, as Thor’s astonishingly clear, blue eyes pierced your very soul. You couldn’t believe it. The person you’d been dreaming about for literal years, was standing right in front of you. But how? How was this possible? Your brain worked in overdrive over every explanation, but the overpowering fuzz of uncertainty claimed the most space. Shaking your head, you tried to clear your mind and think rationally. Thor’s brow was furrowed in apparent concern, sweet wrinkles appearing by his eyes as he concentrated.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, reaching out a very large hand, and placing it on your shoulder in a genuinely concerned manner. Only five minutes in this being’s presence, and you had already deemed him perfection.

“I---yeah…” you replied, fidgeting at the spot. “I just… feel like I know you.”

“I must say, I do feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before. Have we ever met?”

“Uh… no,” you said, with a shake of your head. “I don’t think we have.”

“Shame. Maybe you’ve seen me on the television? I’m quite popular here on Earth.”

The smile that followed this statement warmed your fragile heart this time; the delicious warmth creeping over every bone in your body like a comforting blanket. But there was the word again. Earth. The only word you’d ever heard him say. How would you possibly explain this to someone so… godlike? Your anxiety began to creep up on you, like a insatiable thirst, sucking you dry. You couldn’t tell him about your dreams. How stupid would you look?

“Yeah,” you finally retorted, smoothing out your apron, picking off every fuzz and crumb; anything to not have to face him. “That’s probably it.”

Thor looked out the window, before looking back at you. You could feel those eyes scanning over you, assessing you, and your entire body was on fire. You didn’t want to let him go, but how would you make him stay? You were just… you. And he was just… out of your entire fucking league.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice quieter than before, more intimate. “I have to be going now. I’m needed by my good friend, Tony Stark.”

You choked on your own spit, coughing violently.

“I’m sorry, did you just say you’re friends with Tony Stark?”

“Indeed. Do you know of him?”

“Well, he’s only one of the richest men on the entire planet---”

You stopped speaking mid sentence, and that’s when it all finally clicked. Suddenly, you felt so stupid that you wanted to literally kick yourself as hard as possible, or vomit, or both. Tony Stark was the founder of the Avengers and, after taking another glance at Thor, realized that he too was obviously a part of them. You didn’t know much about the Avengers, or their members; just that they saved the world and the government gave them shit for it.

“Wait… you’re an Avenger, aren’t you?” you asked bravely.

“I am or… was. Not really sure where they stand anymore. Which is where I was going, to find out.”

“Ah, okay, yeah. Please, don’t let me stop you,” you replied, your heart crying out not to let him leave, but your brain knowing you had to. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” he stated with a nod of his head, before turning out of the coffee shop door. You watched as he walked in the middle of the street with purpose. A bolt of electric blue lightning that matched his eyes came from the sky. It zapped around him like a force field and you gasped, as the same lightning emitted from his fingertips. Thor turned once more to look at you through, his eyes glowing the whitest blue you’d ever seen. His clothes had now changed, and he was wearing leather armor, which hugged every part of him perfectly. To your surprise, he winked before quickly disappearing straight up into the sky. You ran out into the street and looked up, hoping for one more glimpse of the man of your dreams, but he was gone. The only thing that greeted you was a rumble of thunder, followed by drops of rain on your face.

Walking quickly back into the coffee shop to avoid getting wet, you did a quick Google search on your phone.

Thor.

Many things came up, including lots of Norse mythology. Myths, about the son of Odin. Your head was spinning, as if your body was on the fastest teacup ride at Disneyland. Specifying the search, you tried:

Thor, Avengers.

What came up made you gasp, and feel even more stupid than you already felt, even though deep down you always knew.

Thor, son of Odin, is the god of Thunder. He is the most important and famous god in Norse mythology and, after coming to Earth to reveal himself, along with teaming up with Mr Tony Stark, has become a crucial part of the Avengers team. After the historical incident in Sokovia, his location is unknown. It is possible that he currently resides on his own planet, Asgard.

So Thor was an actual god after all; an otherworldly being. You set your phone down and inhaled quickly, before releasing all of your pent up air in one long breath. All this time, you had been seeing what you assumed were Thor’s memories. The actual god of Thunder. But why? Why you? And why did he come to you now, in a measly coffee shop on Earth when, clearly, he was on the run? Crazy questions ran through your brain, with no answers to sedate them.

“Fuck…” you breathed, trying everything not to cry. You didn’t know what to do, where to turn, or what any of this meant.

After what felt like an eternity, you were finally relieved from your position by a coworker, and began your walk to the parking garage a few blocks down the street from the coffee shop to retrieve your car. All you wanted to do was curl into a ball in bed and cry, knowing that you’d let Thor just leave without an explanation for the dreams that tortured you for so long. He was, after all, an actual god. Maybe he knew what was happening to you.

Not realizing where you were going, you slammed into a stranger who was standing directly in front of you. He leaned in and whispered in your ear, so as not to draw attention, sending chills down your spine.

“Gimme your purse, and no one gets hurt.”

“What?” you asked, absolutely flabbergasted. “Absolutely fucking not.”

The man’s fingers were wrapped around the strap now, yanking it toward him. A mean glare was in his eyes. You were playing tug of war now. All of your money was in this bag, your entire life. There was no way you were letting it go.

“Let go!” you screamed, hoping to get someone’s attention, but the street was empty. “Now, asshole!”

You saw the stranger reach into his pocket with his free hand, and you froze. You knew he was going for a knife, a gun; anything to kill you with. This was it. This was the end.

Except you were very wrong.

A loud crack of lightning struck just behind the stranger, making him let go of your purse and yelp in surprise.

“Jesus Christ!” he screamed, jumping away from you. “Oh fuck…”

When he spoke, he was almost looking through you, as if someone was behind you. You furrowed your brow, as you watched the stranger tremble with fear, before running the other way.

“I was only gone like... an hour,” the sweet, deep, soothing voice said behind you. The only voice to ever make you weak in the knees. “You’re a trouble maker, aren’t you?”

You turned around in what felt like slow motion, as you took in Thor for the first time since you found out who and what he actually was. Butterflies fluttered inside your stomach, the sudden urge to vomit from emotion apparent. He was the most beautiful creature you’d ever laid eyes on, and that was a fact now.

“Thank you…” you managed to breathe, holding your stomach. “You saved my life.”

“Nonsense,” he said with a wave of his hand. “But I have to tell you I haven’t been very honest with you.”

His statement took you by surprise, and your hand instinctively clutched your heart.

“Neither have I,” you finally replied, not taking your eyes off of him for fear he’d vanish again.

“That’s what I feared. Will you come with me, to a safe place that we can talk? I’d like to get you looked at by a friend, to be sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, I—-“

“Non-negotiable I’m afraid,” he interrupted, and you didn’t argue. “Please, come with me?”

He asked as a question, although you knew it wasn’t one.

You looked at his hand as he extended it to you, your face clearly reading that of the biggest skeptic. Your heart was screaming “Go!” but your brain was screaming “Don’t!”

“I promise, I won’t hurt you,” he assured you. “I would never dream of hurting you, Y/N.”

You placed your hand in his, your eyes never leaving the smile he wore just for you. As your fingers wrapped into his own, your world lurched forward, as he flew you to your new destination.

It felt like a few minutes, but might have been much longer. Thor’s free hand was used to wrap around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible to keep you safe.

The eventual landing was rough, and your world spun for a while as you clutched the floor on all fours. To your surprise, you felt the same fingers that were wrapped in yours moments before, rubbing your back in a comforting manner.

“Good God, Thor,” another soft voice said somewhere around you. “Why did you fly her here? You could’ve just had Tony’s guys pick her up?”

“She had been through enough with strangers, Banner,” Thor said quietly. “I wanted her to be with me. I almost lost her today.”

“Okay, okay,” Banner said, shaking his head. “Lets help her up at least, huh?” Two strong hands looped under each of your arms and pulled you up. You were dizzy.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked you, taking your face in his hands. You nodded, unable to form words. Banner was snapping his fingers in your face, his own covered in worry. “Can I get you anything?”

Suddenly, another man appeared behind Thor and you immediately spaced out on his all too familiar face.

“Hello, Y/N?” he extended a hand between you and Thor. “My name is Tony Stark. I wanted to personally welcome you to Stark Tower.”

You didn’t take his hand, and instead saw Thor’s intense face of concern, as you passed out in his arms.

@captainrogerss @theashhole @captain-rogers-beard @avengerofyourheart @stormin-thru-glitter @katalina-from-hellbound @captainradicalpassion @edenmcgarden @thefallenbibliophilequote @batman-out @writingthingsisdifficult @h-jpeg @radrouda @liama-korn @randbrie @elleatrixlestrange @ican-do-this-all-day @volvoxrain @princess-yuna @aikibriarrose @peterman-parker @bless-my-demons @xtina21917 @my-blackbird-universe @vgurl18 @the-geeky-engineer @apeshit7x @xxdragonqueenxx @me-a-hopeless-romantic @thehuntress26 @marauder--harder @sexyvixen7U @tchallaholla @the-evil-pumpkin @two-feet-of-topsoil @waywardpumpkin @kaffeehauser @amabellau @buckyofthemyscira@thefriendlymushroom @2ka-tja2 @queen-maximoff @potterhaven @daylight-saver @alexislsanchez @infinityblogger @bolo4hagatha @alexiamiky2003 @lilith-snappinnecks-demon @talinalani @lavieenlex @http-ilse @systemfailuresunshine @emergenciesstory @brittanymcsharry @smoothdogsgirl @callme-barnes @tinyfistwarrior@feelmyroarrrr @willieshakesqueer @jumpingmanatee @missinstantgratification @alwayshave-faith @metalarmlover

*all urls striked out could not be tagged and will be removed from my tag list. i’m sorry!

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Part 3

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rekant-a · 5 years

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CHARACTER SHEET repost. do not reblog.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME. jacqueline angela hall NICKNAME / ALIAS. jack! GENDER. girl-ish. she/her is fine and she’s comfortable enough being female-aligned she’s just not All The Way There HEIGHT. 5′0! she cannot stand it! AGE. a very unfortunate topic to talk abt so i will say ‘early 30s’ and leave it at that ZODIAC. cancer. libra moon?????? LANGUAGES. just english

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR. as dark a brown as you can go without it being jet black. because there’s no ‘hair style’ / place for me to describe her hair i also have to say that her hair is chopped very messily - she usually does it impulsively / herself and then gets it fixed up so, realistically, not as bad as it could be. she’s got bangs + layers and the length is a little below her shoulders, barely long enough to put up but she manages it, somehow. i think soon she’s gonna go even shorter so stay tuned for that EYE COLOR. very light brown SKIN TONE. so pale it’s been joked about her being see-through. looks ill. might be. anaemia might factor into her consistently pallid state. burns, doesn’t tan. i also need to mention the abundance of freckles she has on her face, arms, chest and back :3 BODY TYPE. pretty small, but soft around the middle. no curves whatsoever and prefers it that way. she runs often to calm herself down / channel anger + other unpleasant feelings so she’s got a runner’s frame + strong legs ACCENT. sounds like she might be trying to unlearn a southern accent, which is very strange, because she lived in minnesota until she was 11. has absolutely no trace of that accent left VOICE. soft, hesitant, like she’s afraid you’ll actually hear her if she speaks. she thinks it’s noticeably deep, but it isn’t DOMINANT HAND. right. POSTURE. slouched. standoffish. generally so that you won’t approach her, but look at you doing it anyway! SCARS. big tw here for obvious reasons - a lot. brandings, a lot of lashes on her back, tiny scar on her cheek, mostly faded, probably not noticeable unless you get her in really good lighting + pay close attention TATTOOS. no. afraid of needles BIRTHMARKS. nil MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). slouched posture, freckles, unruly hair, baggy clothing (a jacket like 10 sizes too big)

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION. waitress at a dingy little 24 hour diner where the coffee isn’t great and the eggs are like rubber CURRENT RESIDENCE. a small, one bedroom apt that, for visual reference, is kinda close to zoe’s in h.ouse of cards (esp incl the little outdoor area) - she shares the burden of rent + utilities with her parents CLOSE FRIENDS. BUNNY (regrettably)...trish walker and butterfly also get honourable mentions but there’s no chance jack would mention either of them to anyone asking RELATIONSHIP STATUS. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ FINANCIAL STATUS. not super well off personally, but is supported in part by her middle class parents ... like, she has health insurance and lives by herself in new york, so. DRIVER’S LICENSE. no! CRIMINAL RECORD. she killed someone kjdhfgkjhdfg VICES. formerly substance abuse (xanax), occasionally (more often than she’d like) binge drinking, uhhhh violence

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. lesbian!!!!!!!!! PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch. LIBIDO. ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? TURN ON’S. WE’LL GET THERE. MAYBE TURN OFF’S. SEE PREVIOUS LOVE LANGUAGE. Talking About Herself, Talking About Anything At All, Talking About Her Feelings...Being Comfortable Talking To Another Person In General...... small, chaste touches. sitting in silence. not feeling the need to shy away. any touching at all, tbh. uncertainty. GOD this girl is such a useless lesbian RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. IDK BUT LIKE I SAID WE WILL GET THERE!!!!!!!

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. god this is such a wild question and i dont really have an answer but i must, for my own sake, say running up that hill by kate b.ush HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. running. working. would like to read more but isn’t great at concentrating on one thing for a prolonged period of time + sitting in a quiet room for very long. likes to sit and listen to music. gardening (has little succulents and a small herb garden) MENTAL ILLNESSES. ptsd, anxiety, insomnia, depression, dyslexia PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. anaemia, chronic fatigue, lasting effects of malnutrition throughout childhood: insulin resistance, hypertension, dyslipidaemia (elevated cholesterol), awful immune system, impaired function of her kidneys, also affected her reproductive system and her heart, brittle boned, prone to easy breaks and injuries, i’m gonna need to do more digging into the effects on cognition / learning difficulty but i know that there Is Some w jack so, that as well LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. left. PHOBIAS. enclosed spaces, the dark, suuuuuuper paranoid abt people watching her, uhhh people breaking into her house, also obviously kidnapping SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. very low. she tries not to think about it, but she does dress and act in a way that looks like she’s trying to hide (because she is) VULNERABILITIES. hmmm... you kno! poor impulse control / prone to violent outburst (we’re working on it) / heightened aggression, not picking up on certain cues / needing to Be Told exactly what one means in order to grasp it, easily overwhelmed, not handling experiencing her own or anyone else’s emotions well at all - prone to shutting down, escapism, her education was very unconventional so there are certain things she doesn’t know and certain things she knows that aren’t true because she was straight up lied to and she’s very insecure about her perception of this world and is doing her best to unlearn / relearn when and where she can, not very good at handling being laughed at + playful jabs

TAGGED BY. no one.. but i will not be silenced TAGGING. tag me if you do it!

#ooc.#i deleted childhood bc uhhhhh i do not have the energy or patience to come up with a birth weight / birth height #.jack #*headcanon #:3c:3c:3c:3c

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briannanags · 4 years

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To add to the previous post:

• Your medical diagnosis cause so much chaos and uncertainty, you make yourself sad worrying about all the things you can’t change, you blind yourself with the what if’s and why nots that you don’t seem to realize that maybe those dreams, ideas or images for yourself and your future weren’t meant for you. It may not seem like it now but things happen as they should, and maybe, just maybe those fantasies you invisioned weren’t meant for you. Maybe your dream hasn’t even evolved yet, because truthfully you’re still getting to know YOU. “Someone has it worse”, is true but don’t belittle your own feelings to be kind to the universe, your cards are stacked against you. Life has thrown you loops and curveballs and hurricanes since you were a child, but you envy the “chaos”, it keeps you on your toes. Nothing in the future is concrete so don’t allow yourself to get so worked up that this or that isn’t going to happy. Nobody really knows. You were placed here to write your own story. And yours may be the never ending cliff hanger...and that’s okay. Because you have strength in your blood. And love in your soul. And the brain to obtain anything you set your mindset to. The universe handed you these cards...with no rhyme or reason..now arrange them however you please.

• Secondly, I kmow this one isn’t going to be easy to type, or read at a later time when weakness takes over...but it’s fine to come to terms with the truth. And the truth is, that wasn’t okay. You may say you know but deep down I don’t think we’re fully their yet because you continue to self harm, which is what made you think what he did to you for all those months was okay. You didn’t want to leave anymore marks on your precious skin, so letting someone else do it was your best compromise. You were in a low place, you needed help but the words found themselves stuck down deep. It’s scary. It’s so fucking scary because asking/admitting you need help means allowing someone on. It means reopening those closed chapters. It means reliving those feelings, heavy, that you’ve continued to carry around with you as daily reminds, creating a path to be mean to yourself. STOP. No more excuses. No more dodging the topic. No more swallowing those words you so desperately needed to scream out. You cannot move forward in your road to self care if you don’t release him, his hands, his knees, his pillow over your face, his pistol between your eyes, his words piercing every ounce of self love you had left. He didn’t love you, he loved the control he was able to have by over powering you and using your deep affection and care for him to his own benefit. He knew you were weak. He could mold you into whatever because at that time you accepting any form of love and affection that was thrown your way. You didn’t pick the wrong person per say. That person chose the wrong soul to try and destroy. He tried to demolish a woman who wanted true love so deeply, she’d sacrifice herself for those she believed she loved. Now let’s be honest Brianna, why did you do that? - the answer - because you knew how it felt to constantly feel unneeded, how it felt to withhold so much negativity that you burst out at those trying to lend a hand because you’re unsure of how to accept affection. I’m so sorry we didn’t work together to bring us back to reality, and to encourage our past self to run, the minute he laid a hand on you you should have run. It wasn’t love when he was threatening your life if he loved you he wouldn’t even be able to envision life without you. He tried to kill parts of himself through you, and you always made the joke that if he needed to release his emotions you’d be there to be his punching bag, but when did I turn from love and empathy, to living your life in constant anxiety. When is he coming home? Did I do this right? Is he going to be in a bad mood when he comes home? Is he going to be sober? Does he really love me? What do I do to deserve these beatings? Why me? If you’re so unhappy then why do you stay with me? Do you still think about it? Do those nights or days with fist fulls of my hair, blood on your clean socks, your switchblade dragging indentations along my arm as you held that gun to your mouth? Did you think of me? Or what I had previously gone through? Did you think I’d stay that long? Was it a relief the night you left? Do you feel better now?

All I can pray is that you grew up. I hope that one of those traumatizing days, with every punch you swung or personal belonging you destroyed, did it get better for you? Were you able to release those negativities that you’ve clearly been holding in for years? Did you realize who you were hurting? Did you realize it was the person who came to save you? Did you ever look back and wish you could do it again? Or are you satisfied living a life without a care in the world for the damage you left behind when you got bored and left me here to pick up the pieces alone? What if your words stuck, and I pulled the trigger one day before you got out of work? Would that have phased you then? Or would you continue the toxic, detrimental patterns you unleashed on me? What did that first connection with your fists feel like along my jawbone? Did you feel better? Were you hurting me to “hurt”‘yourself in some twisted manor? Are your parents proud of the “man” they raised so selfishlessly? Did you ever question why I never swung back? What happened that you suddenly turned and thought that those actions would fix anything?

I pray for you. Not all the time but occasionally. I pray, that you never make another beautiful woman feel so worthless, unlovable, fat, ugly, stupid, paranoid, anxious, depressed....the way you made me. I was an easy target but I’m thankful for the things you did, because now I am here. I am ALIVE. I am HEALING. I am living. I am laughing. I am taking the good with the bad. But lastly, through the nightmare I lived for over a year with you, I am now able to fully accept the absolutely genuine love and care I’m receiving now. I’m now able to speak openly about my pain. I’m able to express my emotions and know it will not fall on deaf ears and close minded, terrorizing, angry and sad excuse for a “man”. I am able to appreciate healthy relationships. And open lines of communication when it comes to my head and the battles I fight regularly, something I tried so hard to suppress that way I didn’t “overlpad you”, that way I didn’t “scare you”.

Ha! Never again...nobody is worth losing this light I have again over.

So lastly, thank you James Essig for erasing the messy slate I and those around me previously had created for myself and my life, my future and my abilities, and allowing me to start brand new. It took falling in love with a monster disguised as a nice guy, then being dragged to the darkest parts of heartache without giving me even a moment to scream out for safety, and then falling further to rock bottom by abusing any and all substances to numb the confusion and emptiness I felt after you left. I’ve seen heaven, it’s right in front of me every moment of every day. I fell, I broke and shattered, crumbled the pieces to oblivion...and then something happened that even shocked myself: I went and got myself help. I walked into that hospital completely unaware of what I was signing myself up for, but I’m forever grateful I did. So thank you. For taking my beauty and energy, burning and beating it to the ground, because now I’ve started rebuilding and the mosaics being made from those pieces are aligning to something so beautiful, something I deserve, something I portray out into the world but sometimes forget about myself; h o p e .

If for whatever reason you’re reading this, I hope you remember this is nothing else...you pushed me hard and far enough to want to change for myself, you didn’t ruin or get the best of me you made me realize that I am my own saving grace. I lost sight of my love for myself, and allowed you to make me think so small of myself, and that’s genuinely a shame. Cause I am a rare gem. I am deep rooted. I am understanding, accepting and everything except judge mental. I am strong and independent. I am full of smiles, laughs, jokes, kind meaningful words but especially love. I was going to give you every part of me unconditionally, and I’m so thankful you only took what you did from me...because your darkness never deserved my light. Your aggressive masculine need to be dominant never deserved my soul.

I wish you nothing but whatever the universe decides to allow you...and I hope with all of my being if I ever come upon you again, I’m able to say just this, “I’m sorry you’re so unable to accept positive relationships or simply happiness, contentment into your life, but I’m thankful you tore my world apart because now, when I look into his eyes, and his hands softly graze my cheek as he’s pushing my hair behind my ears, leaving reminders of his comfort, happiness and most importantly; unconditional love and affection for who I am, as I am with his kisses on my forehead reminding me so gently that I am cared for. I am appreciated. I am more than damaged goods. It gave me the opportunity to realize what I truly deserve, and how to accept genuine relationships into my life. You pulled the certain back and proved to me what I did not ever want to become, and who I probably would have eventually become if I continued down the destructive, harmful and hurtful path I was on. You gave me the opportunity to feel again, truly deeply feel. It’s overwhelming but I’d rather be on the edge with my best friend who’s so proud of the smallest daily tasks I’m able to complete because he knows that they can sometime be the most emotionally consuming for me, who’s smile lights up the same every time our eyes meet, who has built me a home within theirs that I’ve never felt so familiar with in a different human. I’ve finally began to search deeper for my purpose, because now I have a reason to live. And I mean LIVE, not just go through the motions like you are doing. Thank you for pushing me right into the arms of my guardian angel. I’ve waited so long to meet him, and now, I am ready to release all that has weighed me down. There’s no reason to continue carrying your emotionally draining baggage anymore. Thank you, and please, don’t ever come back.”

- words to myself during my healing journey

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stubert87 · 4 years

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I've spent some time wondering if coming back here to write something was too self indulgent at a time like this. But I'm going to start writing and if you're reading it then I got to the end, thought it was ok, and posted it.

I think it's fair to say that the nation's mental health, as a whole, is in somewhat of a state of flux at the minute. Our life as we have come to know it has been entirely disrupted, albeit temporarily. I've come back to this space to share some of my musings and offer support to anyone who's mental well-being has been affected since the threat of coronavirus has appeared. For many of us this may just be the most recent trigger in a series of major episodes of anxiety, low mood, etc. For others this may be the first experience of anxiety or any form of negative mental health. I hope this makes sense. Maybe even some of it may resonate.

I'm more than familiar with how isolated our thoughts can make us feel when we're in the midst of a low point. Add to that the very literal isolation that has been placed upon us through social distancing measures, and we have the recipe for a mental health crisis. But it isn't as bad as it sounds. In every new scenario and environment there is opportunity. We just have to be willing to see past the fear, and seize it.

There are some of us adept at change. There are some of us that aren't. I most certainly am not. I'm analytical and need order. I need time to digest my new environment, figure out how to exist within it, and then consciously marry up my strengths to this new situation, while guarding my vulnerabilities, until I establish a comfort zone. For those of us who aren't as fast paced as others when dealing with change, the entire situation is a wall of anxiety that seems insurmountable. We are paralysed by the overwhelming barrage of "what ifs" leading to "I can'ts" that lead to "I'm a failure" and there we have ourselves back on the edge of The Abyss, thinking that this is no way to live and pleading with the universe to make tomorrow better.

The insurmountable wall right now is made up of a combination of catastrophic thoughts that has the potential to cripple us. From worrying about the health of ourselves, our friends and families, to worrying how long this will last, and when we can see each other again, each question is a potential doorway to a 'corridor of catastrophising'. It's very easy to end up at very scary and upsetting conclusions, such as "I'm never going to see xyz again" or "I'm next". Very dark thoughts in an already dark time.

The process of breaking the cycle of worry is a lot greater than anything I can outline in this blog. There's a reason that forms of therapy last many sessions. But I'll try to pass on a few tips that have helped me over the years.

I like to think there's two places you can tackle your worry. If we use the analogy of the 'corridor of catastrophising', the door you walk through and into the corridor is the initial worry, the end of the corridor is the final conclusion you reach: a dead end is a total overwhelming negative thought, taking another door out of the corridor is us reaching a better conclusion.

The first way you can try to tackle your worry is at the start, by nipping it in the bud. When you open the door and see that "what if" worry, you can ask yourself is this normal worry, or excessive worry. If what you're thinking is something like "I'm worried about the wellbeing of my grandparents because they're vulnerable and isolating for 12 weeks" then this is a perfectly normal worry. Any human being would think this. You then need to make sure you follow up this thought with positive action and find one way to make the situation better. Using the grandparents example, can you set them up with video calling? Can you send them voice notes? Can you get them involved in distanced activities like a video chat quiz or look for events to take part in like the virtual grand national? Taking positive action will help remove the mental isolation and bring about a positive shift in mindset. And much like a negative mindset can spiral, a positive mindset can also gain momentum.

For some of us though this may be to little too late. We might have already walked down the dark corridor to it's gloomy and seemingly absolute end. And also for anyone who hasn't had to work at challenging their thought processes before, simply trying to nip it in the bud is a a lot to get to grips with straight away, and you could actually end up in a strange state of denial where you're pushing the thought away, only for it to come back with a vengeance. So we have to look at reframing our negative thoughts to help us back track and take another turn off the corridor.

The idea is to challenge the thought by asking yourself can I bring any evidence to back that thought up? Can I prove without any shadow of doubt that the thought I have is true? Using the example of grandparents again, it's easy to bring in evidence like "they're old and therefore high risk", "there's already been thousands of deaths". These are natural worries, but they're not concrete evidence to support a worst case scenario. If we try re-framing our thoughts more positively then the thoughts become less consuming and therefore allow us to think more rationally. "They're vulnerable" - correct, but they're shielding for 12 weeks in isolation to ensure the chances of infection are minimal. "There's already been thousands of deaths" - could be challenged by "yes but there's also plenty of cases of recovery and also so many that haven't been infected or shown symptoms. As long as we're all doing our part to stop the spread, we reduce the risk".

By challenging each negative thought we give ourselves chance to minimise their detrimental impact and make them more manageable and easy to digest. It takes a lot of practice but eventually you get quicker at managing these thoughts and you're quickly volleying them away before they can take hold.

Another problem many of us are now facing is the concept of managing our time in isolation so we're not climbing the walls. Not an easy task at all, but one the more analytical of us may find a bit easier. Iregardless it will take practice. It's easy to fall into bad habits when we have too much time to kill. For some of us we'll naturally fall into good habits because we're disciplined. For others amongst us structure and good routine maybe don't come so naturally. The best way to ensure we're getting the most out of our day is to spend up to a week documenting your activities and the mood you experienced while doing it, correlating what our mood was like to the activity and looking for patterns in the day to day, so that we can then start planning more activities that elevate our mood whilst balancing our necessary tasks that may not bring us so much comfort or joy. Sounds simple on paper but I can definitely attest to the fact that challenging your own behaviour and embedding change is never easy.

There are also so many of us who have anxious brains who've suddenly found that we're calmer than usual. That people around us seem more anxious than we are. It's an interesting phenomenon that I've recently found myself in and mused over this somewhat. Having pondered on it a while, I can only draw the conclusion that my mind is used to living in a state of abstract worry. By that I mean I'm worrying about what MIGHT happen, or rumenating on an incident that happened a week ago. None of this worry is in the present. And when you're suffering from a period of mental ill-health it feels almost possible to be present, grounded, and in the moment. But in this pandemic lies a very real, very present threat. One that means our lives are changing by the day. A threat that is very much making us exist in the present. Anyone who's ever been stuck in the rut if anxious thinking knows that when you snap out of it into the present moment, you're capable of thinking and rationalising and lightning speed. So if you're one of us who's found yourself much calmer than ever, make sure you're continuing to keep those positive actions going to build a positive resilience. Think about what you can do to help friends, family, colleagues and your community to keep us all afloat. Sometimes the people who've experienced the darkest of thoughts are the ones who can bring light to others dark times. If this is you, now's your time to shine.

The final key to it all is my age old advice. KEEP TALKING. The second you feel in a slump, pick up the phone and call someone. Video call them. Start a House Party. Never impose further isolation on yourself by withdrawing. On the opposite side, if you haven't heard from someone in a while then call them. Make whatever plans you can in this difficult time.

I think I've meandered on long enough. If you've made it this far, thank you. If you've found any of this thought provoking or even helpful please let me know. I've attached a link to some further reading on covid-19 and anxiety (if you have any reading left in you) I think it's pretty useful

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healthinputs · 6 years

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How To Make A Boring Relationship Fun Again

Why does passion pass? How to add to the romantic connection of sharpness and brightness? Can I bring back the feeling of novelty after twenty years of family life? Is there a way to improve the quality of intimate relationships? Answers to these questions you will find in the books "Reproduction in captivity", "The paradox of passion" and "As the woman wants." We publish some tips from them. 1. Look At Relationship from Different Angle As a rule, the fervent feelings that we experience at the beginning of a relationship, sooner or later begin to fade, and after a few years pass completely. Why is this happening? The fact is that in the first months of our acquaintance we do not yet know our partner well enough, we are fascinated by a separate, independent person, who has his secrets and riddles, and we try to enter his special world. Then the distance becomes less and less. In place of the newness, excitement, expectation and fragility that fueled our passion, stability comes. Relationships no longer develop, it seems to us that we know absolutely everything about the other person. And this is the beginning of a family household tragedy that lasts dozens of years. Reliability, trust and closeness is not bad, but without some uncertainty it becomes boring for us. That is why you need to change something in your own perception and look at the relationship in a different way. Let the experiments, the game and flirting enter into a life together. Do not force the partner to set templates once and for all: he is still full of secrets and changes a little every day. Try to see in him an attractive stranger. Never dissolve into another person, so as not to lose yourself. Everyone has the right to their own hobbies, secrets, freedom and personal space. And only this way you can remain interesting to each other. 2.Try To Keep Space for Yourself After Kids Often people complain that with the advent of the child, romance and passion leave the relationship, because the young parents begin to spend all their free time on the baby, not on each other. But it's not about the birth of a new member of the family, but the fact that most modern couples cultivate children. Perhaps you will be surprised, but you do not need to spend all your energy & time just to satisfy every whim of a child. Our ancestors would never have dreamed of running around children like us! Try every week to find at least a few hours, which you can devote only to your partner - and no one else. Make an appointment in a restaurant or a theater, take a walk in the park. At these moments, do not think of any family problems: just enjoy each other. 3. Try To Understand Desires of Partner Sex and love are completely different things, and do not confuse them. In love, emotional closeness, support, tenderness is important to us, and in the field of erotic, many people are waiting for something quite different: aggression, domination (or submission), satisfaction of selfish desires. By the way, there is nothing wrong here, even on the contrary: in sex it is necessary to be selfish, give oneself to the process and not think about responsibility at this moment. However, people do not always understand that their expectations can differ from the expectations of the partner. For example, for someone, an erotic connection is another manifestation of a trembling love, and someone in bed needs very different emotions. To all this did not lead to a disagreement in the intimate life, it is necessary to understand each other's desires. To do this, you can perform a simple exercise. Each partner will need a piece of paper, divided into two columns. In the first, it is necessary to write down all associations with the word "love", and in the second - with the word "sex". This helps to separate love from bed, to understand one's own erotic desires and compare them with the expectations of the beloved. 4. Learn To Manage Stress If you are overwhelmed with typical modern problems, then almost everything will be more important than intimacy: for your brain, any stress is a lion running towards you. And what kind of intimacy is there, if the lion is getting closer? Stress is directly related to the struggle for survival. Sex brings a lot of benefits, but it does not directly contribute directly to personal survival. Therefore, most of us in the state of stress trigger all brakes at once. To reduce the impact of stress on the ability to get sexual pleasure and intemacy, make sex more enjoyable, easy, playful, and learn to manage stress. The main thing in effective stress management is to complete the cycle of stress: to leave the state of inhibition, to escape from the predator or kill the enemy and rejoice. Let's think what kind of behavior the body will perceive as salvation from the lion. If a lion is running at you, what will you do? Try to escape, of course. Therefore, if stress is caused by work (or sexual life), what needs to be done? Run ... or walk, or dance, at least close in the bedroom, or work out on the simulator. Physical activity is the most effective means for completing a cycle of reaction to stress. It helps to bring the central nervous system into a state of equilibrium. Scientists believe that there are other ways to feel better. Among them, a dream; any form of meditation, including the practice of mindfulness, yoga, body scanning. And sometimes it is harmless to cry and cry. You can also take a break and go out and enjoy. 5. Form Attachment Based on Confidence Without delving into the details, you can characterize two styles of affection: based on confidence or on uncertainty. Attachment based on uncertainty is associated with one of two strategies: avoidance and anxiety. If attachment is formed in conjunction with anxiety, then you learn to cope with the risk that the attachment can leave you, clinging to it or for it tightly. People who have formed affection in conjunction with avoidance, compensate for the risk that the object of attachment will leave them, trying not to seriously adhere to anyone. Now try to guess which type gets more satisfaction from sex: those who form affection based on confidence, or those who have affection combined with anxiety or avoidance? Of course: those who have affection based on confidence are much more satisfied with sexual life (and relationships in general). 6. Become Self-Sufficient In most couples, sooner or later one person begins to love more, and the other - less and less. The good news is that if you want you can change this situation and achieve harmony. "Weak" (the one who loves the stronger) is convinced that his unshakable love and adoration will bring together a couple, although more and more evidence shows the opposite. Fear of breaking determines the behavior of a person, fetters him, makes him act unnaturally. Immediately it becomes obvious how desperately the "weak" needs its partner, and this prevents the restoration of relations. Probably the most pernicious in the fear of parting is that a person clings to a loved one with a death grip, not allowing himself to engage in anything outside the framework of this union. The best chance of the dependent party to strengthen relations is to try to redirect their emotional energy to something else. This does not mean that you should stop loving your partner or portray the inaccessibility. You just have to try and put your own life in order. Reduce the pressure on your loved one and think about how to become stronger yourself. Work on restoring your individuality outside of relationships. Arrange suppers, go to the movies with friends, do shopping, travel, read interesting books, attend lectures. And for starters, just ask yourself these questions: What activities gave me pleasure before meeting with my chosen one? What are my personal goals beyond this relationship? What is my social life beyond this relationship? What strengths do I have? 7. Don't Be Ovely Dependent The most common panic reaction to the crisis in relations is exaggeratedly dependent and obsequious behavior. However, you have a wonderful way out: learn to notice your reflex reactions of the "weak" and resist them. To develop this useful ability, make a list of your most frightening and often manifested reflexes of dependent behavior, for example: I always agree with the partner; I never show him my indignation and anger; I call him and stop at his office every time I feel jealousy or insecurity; I try to always be more helpful and kind to him; I always do what he wants, even if I myself do not want it. Prepare to track unwanted reflexes of the "weak", and then discourage yourself from the actions they prompt. Over time, you will become so accustomed to follow your reactions that you will easily suppress them. While you learn to control excessive reactions and reflex behavior, your thoughts will become clear, and the impulses to act as "weak" will come to naught. 8. Love Your Body The tendency to not love and criticize one's own body is so characteristic of Western culture that most do not even understand how harmful it is and how widespread it is at the same time. In 2012, the results of 57 different studies that were conducted for twenty years were summed up and it turned out that there are strong links between the attitude to one's own body and various manifestations of sexual behavior: the attitude to one's body is determined by the excitement and desire, and orgasm, and frequency of sex, and self-assessment as a sexual partner. A person will not be completely satisfied with his sex life, if he does not feel full and unconditional satisfaction with his body. To have sex more often and better, you need to learn how to love your body. Examine you- or remove at least part of the clothes - and consider your body in the mirror. Write down everything you see and what you like. Of course, first of all your brain will be filled with self-criticism and disgust, which accumulated there for many years. Do not forget that the day you were born, your body was enthralled all around, you were loved unconditionally and unconditionally. Today it can be repeated. Let all self-criticism go, stop blaming yourself, notice only what you like. Do this exercise again and again - at least every day, if possible. Learn to ignore attacks of self-criticism and negative judging thoughts, focus on thoughts expressing sympathy for yourself. And gradually it will become easier for you to appreciate and love your body, how it deserves to be treated with respect and love. 9. Stop Self-Criticism We constantly criticize ourselves: "I'm so stupid / fat / abnormal", "I'm a loser," "I'm not capable of anything." But self-criticism is closely related to depression; but does depression contribute to harmony in relationships and improve the sexual side of your life? No, it does not. We need to learn how to be sympathetic and understanding in every situation: when we are successful, and when something does not work out for us. To do this, it is necessary to drown out the voice of the internal critic and stop evaluating yourself. Do the following exercise, which helps to increase the level of empathy for yourself: 1. Write a description of the situation in which you criticize and punish yourself. You can use any example, from sexual or romantic relationships (or lack thereof) to events at work. Be sure to write down all the tough critical thoughts that spin in your head and give you no peace. 2. At the top of the sheet, write down the name of your close friend (friend) and imagine that he (she) shares with you the problem that you just described. Imagine that he asks you for help, and write down what you say to him. Try to show maximum sympathy and support, to remain calm. 3. Now read all the tips. Of course, they are not for a friend, but for you. The short conclusion from this exercise is this: never tell yourself what your best friend would not say. 10. Develop a Story Here are a couple of ideas that, according to research, will help "promote the plot" in a relationship that has already passed into the phase of "lived happily ever after." Strategy 1: Anything that accelerates your heartbeat. Try to do what accelerates the heart rate. Go for a ride on the attractions, go on long trekking trips to wild places, watch scary movies, go to huge concerts or political meetings, spend hours arguing about science. Do whatever looks exciting to you, everything that literally makes your heart beat faster. You experience a general excitement, the brain notices this excitement, notices the person next to you and thinks: "Aha, it seems, this person is really interesting!" Strategy 2: meaningful obstacles. To strengthen your communication and deepen your contact, look for new sensations and the opportunity to overcome sensible obstacles together. Play out the sexual fantasy that you wanted to try for a long time, but did not find the courage in you. Turn on the light - not to arrange a performance, but to open your eyes and look at each other in the face. Make the contact. Risk and immerse yourself in trust. Set yourself an important goal, for which you will have to work hard for both of you as a couple. Read the full article

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braindamageforbeginners · 6 years

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A Moment of Introspection (or, Why Positive Thinking is Actually a Bad Thing)

Since starting the whole end-stage brain cancer thing, I’ve gotten a variety of messages from assorted friends and acquaintances wishing me well - it's quite heartwarming, actually - and, although it's universally well-intended, a significant percentage (about 20-40%, I'd estimate) have the glaring subtext, “Cheer up, for Chrissakes.” I appreciate that, for most people, that's intended as a sincerely well-meaning sentiment, but, uh, no; no thanks. I was never a cheery person, I'm unlikely to turn into one under current conditions. All of this reminded me of why I'm fastidiously documenting this whole process. We tend to see dying people as “the great other,” (believe me, we really do, you just don't experience it until you're on the wrong side of the equation), and that colors a great amount of my interactions - you can kind of simulate this experience, by spending a day where you don't discuss, or do, anything pertaining to a time frame after the next six months. It'll be easier for some of you than others.

The ClifNotes version of this rant is how to properly respond when you hear bad news about a friend or neighbor, and why positive thinking isn't such a good idea. We’ll tackle the second one first, because I'm a Star Wars fan.

When you develop a dangerous disease, you will be overwhelmed by many things, but the most annoying are people telling you to remain positive. This is a bad idea on many levels, not least of which because it could kill you. When I first found out about the latest tumor in July, I was told not to panic, that this was a fairly slow-growing tumor, and I had some time to deal with it. When my tumor was removed in November - that's about 4 months, for those keeping score - the tumor had leap-frogged from stage II to stage IV. If I had freaked the fuck out the minute I heard the word “tumor” and had it removed immediately; I would be in a completely different diagnostic category, with a completely different prognosis and life expectancy. And that wasn't even positive thinking, that was just relying on well established medical facts and/or probability. So you can understand why, perhaps, I'm suspicious of positive thinking at the moment; it’s demonstrably dangerous to me. So, you'll forgive me for operating under the assumption that this will be my last Christmas. That may or may not be accurate, it's simply an inference based on current events (speaking of which, there's an excellent chance I’ll eventually lose my insurance if that despicable tax bill becomes law, which will result in blocking access to care, which will inevitably end in a sub-optimal result for me). I suppose you could take that the other way, and assume, “Well, the disease behaved unpredictably already, that could swing the other way, too,” but it's still not a bright idea to bet on a team on a losing streak. Also, I already beat the odds - for fifteen years. This is just the law of averages catching up to me.

We are also an outcomes-oriented society - no one’s about to show up and give me gold star for living 30-odd years as a decent, kind human being who never really achieved anything of import; it's unlikely I'll get credit for weathering this particular shitstorm with grace and dignity (BTW, dignity is the very first thing that gets jettisoned in these situations; I think I left any remaining scraps of that on the floor of the shower when I had to have a nurse physically support me throughout the entire shower/basic hygiene process). I should get credit for not strangling any of the nitwits who try to cheer me up the wrong way.

THE PROPER WAY TO CHEER ME UP: Tell me about your aunt who beat brain cancer (I’m actually being sincere). Maybe leave out that epilogue about her living a full three years past what the doctors expected; I'm not in a position to refuse any extra time, but I'm ambitiously hoping for more than five years. Call me crazy! Or, y’know, just treat me like a regular person who's in the middle of a bad divorce. I'm aware that my situation is much worse, but I can not escape the constant reminders that I'm in a really bad way (I'm taking very strange meds that give me insomnia and heartburn; I'm on the phone with my doctors, nurses, and insurance company every hour or two; I could go on), so it's nice to be treated as a person, and not a disease bound in human flesh. I love Oprah, I love Oscar Wilde, but until they're sitting in a waiting room next to a man with literally only half a face, please don't spout inspirational garbage unless you want to make it onto the “To Stab” list.

Speaking of being an outcome-oriented society; a great deal of my (and probably most other cancer patients’) dread and anxiety is based on the uncertainty of outcomes. We tend to be of the mind-set that our fear of an event is much worse than the event itself; and, normally, I'd agree with that sentiment. Except, at almost every single step in the diagnostic/discovery process, the outcome has not only been far worse than my worst fears, it's outstripped my doctors’ predictions. True, I have gotten slightly lucky in a few ways (the surgery went far better than expected, I do have a mutation that gives me a 40% chance of survival with conventional treatment, I'm in a drug trial that should improve those odds, and I might be able to get insurance next year), but even those all come with caveats and qualifications. And they're weighed against an uncertain future in which even death isn't the worst possible outcome (remember Two Face in the waiting room? Yeah, it's not likely to happen to me, but neither was stage IV brain cancer). So, you might understand why, with a future that's decidedly more S. King than B. Potter, even with the rosiest predictions (and not a whole lot of future, at that). The happiest baby rabbit photo in the world isn't going to improve those odds, so keep the motivational posters to yourself. If things are looking better in a few weeks, yeah, sure, I'll be cheerier, but I haven't even started treatment yet.

I realize that most of these misfires come from the human impulse to do something to help each other (again, knowing that people are just well-intentioned idiots has saved a few of those idiots from a much-needed eyeball gouging), and it just comes out wrong. I try to preface everything I write with the warning that I don't speak for all cancer patients, just me. Today, I'm going to abandon that stance and speak as Cancer Man (but not the cool, X-Files one), patron saint and mouthpiece for all patients with terrible afflictions, and give you, dear reader, the perfect response when you hear that unimaginable tragedy has struck someone you care about. I'm so confident in its efficacy, that it will work not only for cancer, but for almost all diseases, and, indeed, tragedy in general, from unexpected weight gain to a neighbor losing their child. However, before we get there, let's look at the very best, and very worst, reactions (there's only one of each, I won't hold you in suspense for too long).

So, far and away the best response to my situation came from a former boss in the biotech industry, who had heard of several promising clinical trials, and offering some advice about trial eligibility. I knew I was a decent employee, I didn't think I was that good.

Now, the very worst response - and the one I've possibly received the most - is, “"I could get hit by a bus tomorrow.” Or something similar. Usually this is whenever I bring up the odds of me making it five years (about 40%), because Americans don't understand how probability or basic math works (this also explains our economic policies). Fortunately, most people realize it's kind of a dickish thing to say, “I can completely empathize, because I am also mortal.” It took me a while to figure out the proper response to that, which is; “"I'm so glad you agree, let's play some Russian Roulette.” Once I break it down that way - that I'm in a life or death situation over which I have absolutely no control - most people back off.

Anyway, here's your go-to response whenever tragedy strikes someone you know; “"That's awful. I am so sorry, and I have no idea what to say. Is there anything I can do?” That will work for every unpleasant disease you can imagine, I'd wager my life on it (another phrase that used to mean something).

And the only person who's inquired - unprompted - about my emotional state was my radiation oncologist. She was sort of double-checking that I was depressed (or trying to figure out if the cancer was causing it, I'm not sure). Either way, the implication was the disease could be directly influencing my emotional state and/or outlook. If you're still having trouble understanding why I'm slightly upset, imagine having an alien parasite in your brain that can alter your very perception of reality - what we usually call our sanity - and knowing that, if science fails, things will get much, much worse, and eventually, you will die. That's not a problem if you're Kirk or McCoy, but let's say you're slowly becoming aware - like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern - that you're a nameless red shirt. BTW, if Spock doesn't synthesize an antidote in time, these dispatches are going to become very surreal as I descend into madness and pain.

Finally - and don't worry, I'm mostly done with self-pity - you'll have to be patient, I literally found out about all of this five weeks ago. It's all a little much to adjust to in less time than it takes to establish residency in most places. Hell, just for comparison, my chemo/radiation course is - minimally - six weeks. Which brings up my final point (hang in there, we’re almost done), why I'm writing these things. In our society, we tend to view dying people (or those in grave situations) as The Great Other. We want Morrie Schwartz, or we want sick people to shut up and go away (BTW, the feeling’s mutual on the other side of the fence, sick people just want you to give us morphine and let us die in peace). I have not heard of anyone undergoing this, uh, process, while maintaining their surliness and cowardice (and you would be, too, if you were only getting a few hours of sleep every night) - not that I'm dedicated to those traits, but they come naturally to me in crisis (or this particular crisis; I don't know what I'd be like if I was sleeping well and didn't have to call some specialist or billing department or coordinator every hour or so) - and I think future cancer patients should be assured that a bit (or a lot)(or even massive amounts) of griping and fear is fairly normal and has no real effect on the outcome (it doesn't, I haven't seen a study conclusively showing any correlation between attitude and patient outcomes). And this whole writing project will help me keep track of my efforts to find the world’s funniest cancer joke. It has to be out there, somewhere; I've been unable to shake the feeling that I'm somehow involved in some horrible, tasteless joke (and I've crunched the numbers; this whole thing is so statistically outlandish that finding out I am some sort of fictional character in an elaborate story about end-of-life issues would not be the most surprising (or upsetting) discovery I've made this month), and damned if I'm going to leave before figuring out the punchline (of course, I'm about to be damned, anyway; my mother described the radiation waiting room as “the line to cross the Styx”). And finally, I'm doing this because I still can; there may well come a time when I'm unable to write - a thought that scares me far worse than dying. And it may very well may happen; after all, we live in a universe rich in possibilities.

In conclusion, if you feel the need to cheer someone up, there are other cancer patients you can bother. Some of them are probably serene and wise, even (those are the patients with personal assistants to wade through the vast pile of BS that is the bureaucracy of the modern medical-industrial complex). If, on the other hand, you're interested in seeing how far down the rabbit hole goes, with a host who isn't afraid to ask, “This is really fucked up, right? This isn't just me, is it?” I'm your man. For good or bad, my life looks the way it does because I'm too lazy to pretend to be someone I'm not (well, that, and life-long neurological disease); and I'm certainly not going to work on that skill while simultaneously trying to survive what promises to be the very worst (possibly even the very last) two months of my life. Speaking of which...

UPDATE: I met with the researcher running the neurocognitive assessment trial, which is kind of fun (the neurocognitive tests are kind of like some sort of therapy for dementia patients (which, I suppose, could describe me soon enough); you get to draw things (sort of), you play word games (sort of), and you get to play with blocks (sort of)). And then I got to fill out some forms to assess my current neuropsychiatric state. I realize I use synonyms for “fear” a lot on this blog, but the questions on the psych form were deeply upsetting in their implications (”Have you had recent troubles articulating your thoughts or feelings?” YOU. MOTHERFUCKERS. Writing is the last thing I have any real control over; don't you dare take this from me). Good news; the researcher assured me that current radiation treatment is much less nuclear holocaust-y than old fashioned radiation treatment, and the goal of this study is to demonstrate just how much better it is for patient cognitive abilities. She was less happy about my constant pestering her about specifics (”Have I experienced balance problems in the last week? Yes, but since someone was sawing through my somatosensory lobe a month ago, I don't think it was a psychiatric issue.”), so she eventually told me to shut up and scribble any notes or caveats in the margins (I don't think anyone will be amused that, after I rated the statement “I am afraid of dying” (I very strongly agree with that statement, obviously), I wrote, “There is about a 60% chance I'll die in the next five years, it's not a fear, it's just basic math.” Still, it was reassuring when she told me that she does see most patients again at the three month follow-up, and that most of them are mostly-intact. And, in surprising news, I finally saw the psychooncologist; and she seemed remarkably empathetic and intelligent (I guess it's just the administrative staff that are cruel and incompetent). I guess I have adjustment disorder (no shit, Sherlock)(also, there's probably a few readers who saw that coming). But, bigger news, the antidepressant I was on is linked to anxiety, insomnia, and, wait for it... seizures. So, I will be transitioning to a less dangerous (for me, anyway) antidepressant over the next few weeks, so things might get a little odd around here during that time. She (the psychiatrist) also said something to mull over; (and I'm paraphrasing), “Any time you cut into the brain, you permanently change the neurochemistry. And we've done that to you three times since you were 17.” I also got a call from my original mad scientist oncologist in Northern California (or one of her Igors, anyway), reminding me that she wants an MRI a month after starting radiation, which is reassuring. I have no illusions about her investment in me; it makes for a much better case study if the patient lives longer, and I am a once-in-a-lifetime medical specimen (I don't mean that in a sleazy, “Welcome to the gun show” way; I once calculated that there are fewer than 250 people with similar medical histories... on planet Earth). Still, the more people who want me to live, and are in a position to help make that dream a reality, the better. Now for the bad news; the radiation department is still haggling with my insurance company, and that's holding up this whole process. However, they're expecting to hear back in a day or so, and, as Dad noted, the insurance company has been quite generous and almost-mammalian during this whole process. All I want for Christmas is chemo.

#brain tumor #brain cancer #brain damage

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