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kaylathekittykat225 · 5 years

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All Tangled Up // Older!Damian Wayne X Reader

Warning/s: Nothing, just fluff, because...fluff

Word Count: 2549

Henlo all, just a little saying of enjoy. First time adventuring into the realm of tumblr posting, so we shall see how this all goes. I venture into different fandoms if anyone wants to request anything, feel free to ask!

Here’s my Masterlist.

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The sudden glare of the sunlight straight to your face woke you up with a start along with the whoosh of the thick fabric of the curtains that usually stopped the light being pulled apart pulled you out of that fuzzy area between sleep and awake.

"Wakey, wakey my little love birds!" The familiar voice of Damian's oldest brother shouted through the room, too chipper for being awake this early on a Saturday.

You squinted your eyes at his direction, he stood in the direct line of the sun standing behind him, giving him a good reason to be called Golden Boy with how much yellow is shining around him. Before you could begin yelling at him, you felt your boyfriend shift in your arms, pulling himself closer to you, nuzzling his face subconsciously deeper into the crook of your neck.

"Dick, I suggest you go away before you wake Damian up." You knew first-hand how your boyfriend acted when he was woken up from his sleep, especially when it's a weekend, but the eldest Robin didn't seem to understand you.

His grin grew larger, well at least you think he did since you still couldn't see him with that damn sun behind him. "Aw how cute, Y/N. You seem to forget that I'm Dami's favorite."

"Dick, no matter how much he favors you over the rest of your brothers, you probably won't be his favorite when you wake him up before noon on a Saturday. Remember Fourth of July?" The blacknette visibly shuddered at the memory of being chased around the Manor by a practically rabid nineteen-year-old. "So, I suggest you let him be and wake up on his own accord."

While he finally left the room, he grumbled to himself about being so bored and then something about Jason before he quietly shut the door behind him.

You hummed to yourself before glancing down to your still sleeping boyfriend. His head laid mostly on your sleeveless shoulder while he hid his face in your neck, his slow and paced breathing tickled your gentle skin. After wiggling around a little, you felt his arms were in fact tightly wrapping themselves around your waist, his hands holding onto the fabric of your black tank top, keeping you from moving away from him at all. And best part was that you were mostly pinned to the bed by his body weight, his legs hugging one of your legs between his.

It was hard not the love when the normally stoic Wayne was all cuddly and lovey dovey. Last night, he got back from a what you later found out to be a very rough night on patrol when he came into your guys room and promptly interrupted your journaling by laying his body down on top of yours. He whispered a quiet "love you" before he quickly fell asleep.

With the help of Titus, you had the smart dog turn off the lights before his big body jumped on the bed at your feet, falling asleep as quickly as his master had. The last thing you remembered before you fell asleep as well other than acting like a pillow to you beloved Damian was running your fingers smoothly through his dark and half Arabian hair. You pressed a quick kiss to his hair and began to massage his scalp again as you drift back to sleep, wanting to enjoy a few more z's while you could with him.

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The sun had thankfully risen higher and was no longer glaring me in the eye the next time you woke up to the feeling of patterns drawn into your stomach. Something had pushed your tank top up to expose a portion of your stomach. You kept your eyes shut as you tried imagining what was being drawn into your skin.

Damian's body had not moved at all since the last time you checked, your hand was twisted between his hair. You slowly began massaging his scalp again, the drawing on your stomach stopped. Damian leaned into the touch of your hand, he deeply sighed, the air tickling your neck as it left his nose, making you burst out in giggles.

"G'morning, beloved." Your boyfriend's voice murmured to you while he began pressing light and gentle kisses to your neck and the underside of your jaw. You hummed happily at the sensation, your cheeks warming up with every touch he gave you.

He reached his hand that he was just using to doodle on your stomach up to your hand in his hair and pulled it out, tightly lacing the two of them together.

You audibly whined as he peeled his body away from you while he held his body up on one arm, happily smiling down at you while he used his fisted hand to hold his head up. Finally able to see you fully, his eyes began to scan over your face as though his was the first time he has ever seen you.

Instead of feeling creeped out by his intense staring at you, you only watched him right back. His dark hair was freely pointing everywhere, having the epitome of bedhead, with the help of you ruffling his hair. His blue green eyes sparkled so much whenever he smiled, which his family thinks he only does once in a purple moon. His face has aged so much since the two of you met as young eleven-year-olds when he insulted how you ate an apple in middle school.

The two of you continued to stare at each other for who knows how long, hours, minutes, days? All you knew is that you were sure your hair was everywhere, all over the bed and a complete mess no doubt. The sheets and blankets you were sleeping with had fallen just above your hips when Damian had moved around to lean next to you. With every second that passed, you felt his thumb sweep across the back of your hand with the constant tempo while his eyes were focused on staring adoringly at down at you.

"Gosh, how I love you." He whispered to you, his morning voice that still hasn't cleared yet sent butterflies erupting in your stomach. Gah you felt like a love-sick teenager.

"Well not as much as I love you." You spoke back with equally hushed voice, smiling up at him with equally adorning eyes.

"Hm, quite the predicament we have here, beloved, because I love you so much more."

"Not possible, words can't describe how much I love you." You began to giggle at how the two of you acted simultaneously like an old married couple of seventy years and like a newly dating teenage couple.

"My, the dilemma." Damian happily chuckled before he moved to lean over you, his lips ghosting over various parts of your face.

A kiss to your forehead. "You are my love and my life, and I love you."

A kiss to your nose. "You are so cute and adorable, and I love you."

A kiss to your eye. "You are beauty and you showed me how to live, and I love you."

A kiss just below your ear. "Your voice is the only thing I want to hear for the rest of my life, and I love you."

A kiss to your cheek. "You are so loved, and I can't tell you how much, but I will die trying, I love you."

A kiss to the corner of your smiling mouth. "You make my heart scream and I love you."

He pulled away grinning down at you, and as much as you tried hiding your own smile, the blush mixed with your huge grin made him love you even more. Your blush only got redder as he threw his leg over to the other side of your body, his knees pressing against your hips, successfully locking you in place; he grabbed hold of your other hand and gently pinned both of them alongside your head, your body was pinned beneath him and you really couldn't fight him.

Damian smiled down at you, his getting larger at the sight of your dark red face and the smile making you E/C eyes shine happily back at him. "So, you just gonna sit there and tease me?"

"Ah, you see, beloved, you get so cute when I tease you."

Quietly whining up at him, you tried pushing up on his hand. "Babe," You drew his name out, sticking your lower lip out in an attempt to pout at him.

"Beloved, you and I both know if I can deny Titus' begging for extra food, I can easily fight that sad excuse of a puppy face you have." You groaned at him rolling your eyes at him before you looked over at the black dog that perked up when he heard his name. "You are so bad at being angry." Your boyfriend chuckled at you."

You may be pinned beneath his well-built frame but that didn't mean you couldn't pretend to ignore him, watching as Titus laid his head back down and went back to sleep. The pads of your thumb began rubbing against the back of his hands while you smiled to yourself as you agreed with him that you physically weren't capable of being mad at anyone.

It was Damian's turn to try begging, even if he fully knew that you weren't mad at him. "Beloved," He nuzzled his face into your neck again and began peppering your soft skin with small kisses. "Beloved Y/N."

His lips and unfairly long and dark lashes continued tickling you while you held your lower lip between your teeth, biting yourself to stop you from bursting into giggles. But Damian knew you well enough to aim for the corner of your jaw just below your ear, your ticklish spot.

You couldn't stop them and finally let yourself start to giggle, Damian pulling away triumphant, his signature Wayne smirk aimed at you. "There's that laugh I love so much."

That laughter didn't stop as you tried pushing your body up one more time against his weight, but falling back against your pillow with a grunt. "Do you want something, beloved?" He coyly grinned down at you, loving how frustrated you were getting at him.

"Why yes Damian I do, I want the man I love to kiss me." You glowered back up at him.

"Anything for the woman I love." He quietly whispered at you before he ducked his head down and gently pressing a kiss between your lips.

Using only his lips, Damian tried as hard as he could to show you how much he loved you. He had one of the best educations in the world, and yet words always seemed to fail him. He was not one to use words, he was a man of actions, making showing you easier than telling you.

You stressed the kiss just as much as he was, this was nowhere near the first kiss between you two and it damn well won't be the last.

When Damian kissed you, every time you lost your mind. There were never those fireworks or sparks everyone talks about, his family often looked at the two of you weird when you say that you don't feel fireworks exploding between the two of you.

But fireworks don't belong in a kiss.

Passion does. Desire does.

With every kiss, you lost your mind, you could barely remember where you were, how to breathe. Everything left you. There were even times when you forgot who you were.

The youngest Wayne slowly let his body relax, his chest meeting your as he gently lowered himself flush against your chest. He released your hand to gently cup your cheek, running his thumb across your cheek bone. A shiver ran through your body at the contact, if anything, that drew the weakness of your body, when you could feel his hand somewhere on your body touching your skin.

Using your own free hand, you ran your fingers up his arm and neck to the base of his neck, where his shorter hair was ticklish to your fingertips. You ran your hand up through his hair, gently using your nails along his scalp.

Damian moaned against your lips, he knew you loved his hands on your body, but you knew he loved when your fingers were in his hair. He pulled his lips apart and let his tongue gingerly run over your slightly chapped lips, trying to separate your own lips.

Before you could give him entrance into your mouth, your body overrode your enjoyment and forced you to pull away, apparently air is more important than kissing someone.

You smiled like an idiot up at him, yes you didn't want to pull back, you honestly loved seeing what you did to him when you kiss. "I love you so much." You whispered one more time before leaning upwards once again and gently pecked his lips before you pressed your hands against his chest to push him off you.

"Beloved."

"Damian, we can't just sit in bed all day. It's Saturday!" You pushed yourself off the bed, Titus romping over to lick at your thigh to love him before your wrist was tugged at and you were fell back onto the plush bed, tumbling into the open and awaiting arms of your boyfriend. "Damian,

"Hush, now I like the idea of having one of our lazy days. We haven't had one in a while." He said, cuddling your curled-up body closer to his chest.

All you have been doing since you woke up was have an almost permanent grin on your face, which only got bigger at this new idea. "Well why didn't you just say so?"

Your boyfriend smiled adoringly down at you and gently kissed the tip of your nose before a whimper pulled you two out of your own love world. Looking over to the side of your bed, you saw the sad looking face of Titus the black doggy staring at the two of you.

"Aw, Titus wants to be loved too." You chuckled at the dog before you clapped your hands together. "Come here buddy! Come on up!"

"Y/N, he's going to lick-" The two of you were pushed over by a muscle filled animal hopped on the both of you, his tongue happily licking at the two of you.

"Aw, Titus, we love you too!" The three of your wrestled around the bed, you and Damian laughing like there was no tomorrow while Titus deeply barked happily to be able to play around with his two masters, the dog accepted you as his best friend ever since you shared part of your dinner with him.

Damian had never smiled so much in his life until he met you. Up until he was ten years old it was just train, train, train, and focus on the mission. He loved taking his mind away from anything to deal with his night time activities, he could almost pretend that he was a normal kid.

Even if it was just he two of you and Titus just spending all day tangled in the covers and sheets of his bed, he wouldn't have his life any other way.

#damian wayne x reader #damian x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian imagine #robin imagine #damian wayne one shot #damian one shot #damian wayne!robin x reader

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ninja8tyu · 5 years

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My therapist told me once that a lot of people see therapists, but it doesn’t seem like that because it’s not like people tell others about it.

Now that I’m writing this, I question why snapshoting your lunch is more interesting than therapy, but I digress.

I’m going to tell you about what it’s like to go see therapists. It isn’t as bad as others make it out to be, and it means nothing bad to go see one; only that you are taking care of your mental health. Push away people who say that you’re demented.

I went through multiple therapists through childhood. I was never told why, but I can deduce it.

If it wasn’t the autistic breakdowns and anger issues, along with constant bullying and disproportionate retaliation (I still think it’s fair), I have no clue.

But before I do go on wholesome journey, I’m going to give an example in my life where a therapist (if that was a therapist; my memory only recalls an interview-like room, but it’s indeterminate if it was a therapist or not, as it seemed to be more of a questioning and interrogation rather than the therapy I know of, but i suppose it still applies, as people around my age at the time, I feel, would feel uncomfy talking to adults (I’m more comfy talking to adults than kids my age, just to note, according to other people and personal affirmation) and a therapist may seem intimidating because of the age gap or size difference) basically contributed to my anxiety and distrust in everyone.

Not to bring hate to that therapist, but at the same time, go back to the kitchen bitch, but how this therapist destroyed my trust is basically because I made a terrible joke. Being autistic didn’t grant me the normal ability to determine what was okay to say in certain situations the moment I was born, and I had to learn it throughout life. I think I was frustrated with my mom over my computer (which now I realize how deep my addiction to the web goes) and joked about an elaborate plan that would hurt my mom if she took it away.

Now, this joke was a joke because it was impossible to pull at my age. Putting myself in her shoes, I wonder what she would be thinking. Did she take the joke too seriously? Did she actually consider a 7 year old a threat to human life? Fuck if I know, but my mom was contacted, and boy, did I stop trusting them then.

In defense of her, that was still a threat, and therefore better safe than sorry. In attack towards her, your idiocy fucked me up enough to not make proper use of mental health professionals. The defense is weak in that my threat was empty and fangless. Weighing the options, I think that the dumbest option was chosen (which is why I doubt her status as a therapist: she’s clinically retarded).

So because of that incident, I didn’t really had a fun time with therapists after a very long time, up until high school.

From what my therapist said, it seems like people like me make the mistake that seeing a therapist and/or taking medication is a magical cure to depression and all our personality problems. I can attest to that.

They do not engage in mind-control or the mystical arts. They are more like conversation partners than anything else.

The mistake we make is thinking that something else will solve our problem, but the truth is that the change we want has to come from us. The therapists and medicine helps to aid it, not make it come to be.

I didn’t think that medicine or therapy would help me though, as before high school, I believed that I was right the entire time, and the world was fucked up.

Well, the world is still fucked up, sharing some of the reasons why I believed why that is plus more, but not all of it that ended up to be delusions.

I spent my time telling the therapists how I’m right, and explaining my reasoning. Lucky that I didn’t pass them off as mind-controlled too, and tried to debate rather than go flat-earther over global morality. I guess I assumed that I was powerful enough to wipe mind control or I could appeal to their reason and emotion to destroy the control, assuming it was there. Fuck if I know. I wanna know what that little brat that was once me was thinking as well. But I digress.

The therapists I saw, the visits don’t really stick into my head, but I recall them always suggesting new possibilities in my head. Rather than linear thinking, they suggested other thoughts that might have occurred with others. Now that I’m typing this, I feel that something I might have done back then in response was “well, it’s a stupid way of thinking, and they should go die” which would explain why I didn’t just become a better person then. It’s because I was more smarter back then than now. I overthink and try to live in theory, rather than see and know what is in front of me, and living in the world I know I’m in. After all, I can’t apply “everyone has good will” when I’m living in “everyone is out to get you, literally, just check your memories and the fact that they’re still doing it”. But I digress.

Eventually, therapy stopped. If I ever went to see a therapist, it was because I was in trouble. Saw my counselor too, who basically acted like one.

Anxiety and depression basically were gangbanging me during the time, and I was controlled by constant fear and wanting to kill everyone the first chance I got where no one would be left surviving. Never happened for obvious reasons. Also, the US didn’t give me nuclear codes. Nor did ISIS give me an AK. No one trusts me with a weapon, which is oddly funny and annoying. But I digress.

My mental state went to shit. I remember reading in a report where it included a history of my past “misconduct”, one event that I found funny was the fact that they recorded a threat I made. It included ripping someone’s mouth off and shoving it in their ear so they could hear what they were saying. I hold my child self in high regard for this reason, but at the same time, I also want to shoot him for doing stupid shit that I wouldn’t do in clarity. He’s still a legend in my eyes, but I digress.

My counselor wasn’t a therapist, but damn did she pull me out of a portion of my depression. She played a major part for putting trust in other people. Depression and anxiety took over, I didn’t want to hold it in anymore, and so I told her that she thought I was a nuisance, that she should just stop pretending to be nice, and just toss me aside. She said that she did care for me, though in an angry voice. She was mad that I put words in her mouth. But her words told me that people weren’t all out to get me, and that I’m not hated behind everyone’s backs. I didn’t think and still do think that people can’t lie when they are angry like that.

Then high school came. I had just about it with depression, and I asked to go see a therapist for antidepressants. I didn’t really trust therapists that much still, but somehow, that step made me effectively use the help I got. But yeah.

My therapist noted how the first time I met her, I was like “I’m just here for my magic drugs. Nothing else.” Funny, looking back at it. The therapy helped more than the antidepressants.

I managed to convince my “drugs are brainwash” parents (who are stupid and easily manipulative (often exploited by my brother to make me feel worse), which, even if they disagreed, an annoying child begging for it will always win against such parents, and while it never got to that point, I got the help) to let me get antidepressants (due to cheap price, studying effects of it, also my therapist helped) to help me get better.

I asked someone on tumblr as an anon who I knew was taking antidepressants, and the key thing I took was that the drug is not going to instantly cure me. It isn’t an instant happy pill. It’s a clutch that helps you move through life. Some people even life with depression, never really getting rid of it completely, but they learn to live with it regardless.

My experience with taking antidepressants were introductory, or for mild depression (just to note, I have dysthymia). It made me less dead on the inside. Didn’t make me happy, but I noticed a lack of apathy.

I don’t think the drugs worked because of my more severe depression, and the more obvious reason: my family was making me miserable and suicidal.

You can’t get over depression when people are continuing to put you down. I’m finding a fond interest in murder and torture because of them. I want to get over it, but if I have a toxic family who counteracts any help I get to my mental state, then what’s the result going to be? Hint: I don’t get better.

Family therapy is out of the question, and getting professional help for the biggest fucker contributing to it (brother) is too, since “mind-control” and “government conspiracy” and “I’m crazy, literally, being autistic and all”. So yeah. 17 years wasted wallowing in depression because of a shitty state in a shitty country and shitty family. If I haven’t expressed my rage for my family and those who have made me miserable enough, just take it as true that if I have the ability to, I would enact something that would put a number of people countable on two hands through the type of hell that rivals the holocaust and gulags with their tens of millions of people who suffered in terms of inhumanity and immorality. I digress.

And then I cut myself for the first time. Thanks to my big brother. My mental state was no longer stable, and also the start of when I get kicked out of two discord groups consecutively.

I was still too scared to tell my therapist more about my life out of fear that I’d be sent to a mental hospital, so I went onto the internet, where I could vent about my problems and express my rage anonymously and safely (ignoring hackers and the like).

During this time, I learned a lot of things that really hit me and hurt damn badly, and I couldn’t really blame half of them because it was quite literally caused by me. Venting around on the web didn’t turn out so good.

I’m worth no more than shit to someone I know to be intelligent, whom I had assumed before then that only geniuses could understand the pain I went through. The person here also went through rough shit, possibly worse than I ever had. I had no excuse nor explanation to myself why this is other than that it is what it is, and what is, is that I’m worth below that of manure.

Then I joined a community full of degenerates. The thing that hits me lightly is that I got rejected by a bunch of misfits in society, who are literal nazis, hypocrites, criminals, rejects, et cetera. I want a majority of the people in there dead. I learned a few things like that the people with power are the people you must obey, or you will suffer. I learned that corruption isn’t given a damn about. Systems will gladly run on immorality, so long as it isn’t moral yet. I earn that people are actually willing to us any amount of effort to put up facades to be nice while they absolutely despise you behind their backs.

Alternate accounts let me find some of things people have said while I was banned. I hated it.

I’m pretty sure some of my fits of rage online are on some cringe comp, but I digress.

And then my weekly visit with my therapist came around. My mental state becoming worse and worse, starting with my brother who actively makes me miserable, to being banned from places I felt belonging to because of my mental instability, I had no fear of going to a mental hospital.

Better there than with a shitty family that makes me miserable. I couldn’t care less what drugs they inject into me, so long as it helps me.

I walked in, telling her that I no longer fear going to a mental hospital. I’m going to be honest. There is nothing good left to lose. Just the bad is left to lose, and I’m begging on the inside to lose them.

And then I cried. Told her about how I felt worthless, powerless, useless, a waste, how miserable my life felt, and so on and so on.

I expressed my rage, and how I hated them. I wanted them dead. I never deserved this. What did I do to deserve this? Why give birth to me to make me go through hell? I never asked to be born, and yet people are treating me as if I decided to be born in hell.

Yeah, death threats I made. I’m lucky my therapist didn’t just call the FBI and sick ‘em on me. She was understanding, and knew I was going through a bad time. Not everyone gets the same treatment, I understand, but I have a point here.

The thing I feel about letting it all out, is that because I let it all-out, I’m open to judgement, and therefore correction. My therapist talked with me, I put out my thoughts, she did hers, and the problems begin to become solved. Though, having an interest in psychology and sharing basic knowledge of it helped exponentially. Also, working on emotional intelligence helped too.

I feel that most people don’t really talk about their problems, and they never resolve themselves. They may hold some kind of opinion or thought that would be really bad to have if a situation popped up where they applied that. And when it pops up, they then make a bad decision. But of course, they can’t talk to anyone about them out of fear of judgement.

I feel that therapy works best when you’re honest and unafraid of judgement. You have to be willing to put out your thoughts and let them be vulnerable, and accept when you’re wrong. Also, mental hospitals aren’t that bad, apparently. They do inject strong drugs for people with certain conditions, but that’s because they’re fit to deal with side-effects better than at home or in a standard check-up hospital. Other people’s words, not mine. I haven’t been to one yet.

For me, my problem was to come to terms with the world I believe to be corrupted, and personal problems. I asked why are there killer cops? Why on Earth is the school system built where it rewards bullies but punishes victims? What is the universal cause that turns people bad? Am I the bad guy?

My solution was to let my thoughts be open to be judged and criticized. And it worked for me.

I think I should say that it may not work for you if you go see a therapist. It may not be the best person that would help you, or that you still need time to mentally prep yourself.

As for me, I’m probably not going to see my therapist any more. I’m scare that she’s putting up a kind facade, but actually hates me. I don’t want to be a bratty nuisance that still couldn’t get better after two years and coming back to old issues. I just fear that being true.

My mental state is beginning to deteriorate as a result of being stuck at home with a mentally and emotionally abusive family over the summer. I had starved myself for a short duration (~16 hrs) before realizing that was stupid, and I was basically suggesting to kill my body in an attempt to prove a point (a human can last months without food, but it wouldn’t be worth losing brain development time, especially my life, since I know they wouldn’t be more nicer even if I starved myself).

Also, still no psychiatrist visit for some fucking reason. Medicine can help, but with a family that thinks drugs are products of the devil, it’s more likely for me to go on a psychosis than them ever consider that drugs aren’t that bad. Also, fuck the US for putting a bad name on drugs and the drug war. Literally, not even medical drugs like antidepressants that can help people get better are safe from the toxic culture it bred. Also fuck DARE. You increased drug addiction. Go fuck yourselves. Also fuck the cops for being biased against the mentally ill and the “special” ones. Fuck the system for the same reason. Fuck the world for still thinking they’re morally upright when they still do immoral acts. Fuck the people who let it happen for any reason. Fuck this snowflake society that can’t do anything but complain, because a revolt would be too much work for their fragile asses. Fuck the political system and the government for working based on who pays the most, seldom morality and justice. Fuck my family for being stupid and abusive. Fuck society and how they think that if it isn’t the worst that it could be, then you have no right to complain and correct your problems. Fuck political correctness and how it prioritizes being unoffensive over actually solving problems. Fuck the UN for being incompetent.

#therapy #psychology #my stories #sfw

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realwomanleader-blog · 5 years

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Imagine being homebound for 3 years by no choice of your own - what do you do?

It was a dark and stormy April 1 (no joke). I’m delivering pizza for extra cash, working now 2 weeks beyond my 2-week notice, when my life takes a sudden turn for the much harder.

By now all I’d known all my life is work.

I was the caregiver for my mother from the day I could walk, and she gave thanks by killing my father when I was 19. I’ve never known a soft place to land, and spent many years homeless.

Fast forward to that fateful evening in 2016, and I’m feeling pretty hopeful about my life. I’ve made steady forward progress the last 7 years. Though I’m still suffering with crippling panic attacks every morning, this side gig delivering pizza did its job - we’ve finally moved out of the congested city into a place that was at-long-last big enough to more than just live, in the smallest town in NH by land mass. I felt like I’d actually achieved something.

In fact, April 1 is the first day of our lease. I’m looking forward to letting go of this side job real soon - maybe even tomorrow - and just focus on rebuilding the business I lost in a massive case of writer’s block way back in 2007.

I’m backing out of the coveted spot for drivers when my 5-speed transmission gives its usual kickback and hops out of reverse - the old Hyundai wouldn’t last much longer. Slowing to a stop so I could get it back in gear, I catch a flash of white in my rearview.

NOT GOOD!

I slam the transmission into first and rev hard to avoid colliding with what was certainly my co-worker’s Jetta, once again parked illegally at the ONE PLACE without lights - in front of a dumpster no less! He’d been told numerous times by the landlord to not park there for that very reason, but once again, he hadn’t listened.

I felt no bump other than my old Hyundai popping out of gear (besides, I was traveling so slow my speed-o hadn’t registered at all), so I went about my deliveries. But when I came back, I was greeted by Manchester’s finest, in classic interrogative form.

Turns out, I did make contact. The dent was about the size of my hand, on the driver’s side rear door, maybe half an inch deep.

I didn’t have ALL my insurance information as they required right then, but I was working for the pizza shop right there - in all my 10 years working this gig, I’d always been instructed to direct insurance queries to my employer, which is what I did.

I was called the next day and told I wouldn’t be on the next week’s schedule. The next 6 weeks were marked with constant harassment, and zero assistance from my former employer. The co-worker apparently put it all on his personal insurance, and was allowed to keep his job another 300 days.

All kinds of wrong kept happening. When I asked for a lawyer, I was escorted out the back door. When I was pulled over in June and my car impounded (new to me car, might I add - owned only 2 weeks by then), I put in to have the decision rescinded because I was never notified - but the DMV is its own system. This wasn’t a “decision” in the legal sense, and it would not be rescinded.

The School of Hard Knocks Offers a Master’s Degree

Apparently agreeing to pay restitution to my co-worker for his out-of-pocket expenses is what screwed me, and made this no longer an employment law matter. So much for “doing the right thing.”

There was nothing I could do or say to combat the $4,870 insurance levy, nor point out the clear insurance fraud (what the heck does a passenger-side tail light have to do with a 3-mph nudge to the driver’s side?!). And every lawyer I called either never called back or claimed conflict of interest.

I’ve been homebound ever since.

In the smallest town in New Hampshire.

Without a support network.

Taxis don’t come out here. There’s no such thing as public transportation. The nearest grocery store is a 30-minute drive away. To Uber it, would be $40 one way - not counting the added fees for rural service.

My husband at the time wasn’t any help either. Two years before that happened, he’d told another woman he was falling in love with her. Three months after he said that, my first and only friend died. I was utterly alone in the world when this happened.

Losing my license only served to further degrade our nonexistent bond.

So I Helped Myself

July 1, 2016 was my last anxiety attack. I networked my butt off to land a job back in my field, as marketing director for 1 of 4 people in the world with that expertise. July 2018, I left that job for an invitation to “test” his suitcase of sex toy inventions, and the sudden 180 on every bit of advice I ever gave - but only because it now came from a 15-year-old male.

I took it as an opportunity to rebuild my business, having tried for the last year with minimal success because I had to schedule meetings around a 9-to-5. Less than 30 days later, I landed my first good client - but it wasn’t enough according to my then-husband. October 2018, I made the decision to leave him. Being homeless again was better than living with someone who would never understand what it means to love an entrepreneur.

Then the Universe conspired to help me. Someone I served in a previous job, took me in to his home. A previous client who owed me 3 years in hosting fees suddenly cropped up, wanting access to their domain. I played hardball with their lawyer - and won, just in time to get some oil for the furnace in the bitter December cold.

January 2019, I was approached by a traditional publisher interested in my non-fiction work. That turned into a 2-hour phone call with the proprietor of 4 companies, and a contract gig doing exactly what I always knew would be my destiny.

Roses Smell So Sweet - But Beware the Thorns

You might not think working from home is all that hard - until you realize it’s 90 hours sitting at a desk, and that I was born with rheumatoid arthritis. I was told at 12 that I would be walking with a cane by 20, and wheelchair bound by 30 - but doctors don’t know everything. I’m 34 as I write this, and still a very capable dancer, hiker, swimmer, and sports enthusiast, because I’ve been extremely proactive about my health.

It’s also become apparent that I’ve been managing diabetes all these years too - when my diet changed for the move into another household, I kept getting light-headed, even passing out once, and my feet began turning purple. I’m managing that, too.

The person I’m living with is 5 years younger, without the life experience I’ve had - so even when he wasn’t working 6 days a week, being dependent on him for absolutely everything has resulted in little more than frustration.

In fact, 10 days ago I suffered a total mental meltdown. Someone I hoped to call friend longer than these last 2 years broke a 5-month-old promise to visit - and it was my last hope. When the last day of her week-long vacation came and went without a plan, I spent the evening in hysterics - banging my head against the carpet in my home studio.

The next day, I picked myself up again.

I can’t say that I have nobody.

I have me.

And I am grateful for this life, because I am clearly being groomed for something magnificent.

What it is, I haven’t the slightest clue - and I love that. Life is a mystery we unfold one minute at a time, and I am so very curious.

This past Saturday, I went surfing for the first time. It’s been a lifelong ambition, and I did surprisingly well given my horrible track record on snowboards, skateboards, and plain walking on flat ground.

“Tomorrow is always too late.” Even though I don’t have much for resources, I saw an opportunity to do something I’d always wanted to - and did.

Was I afraid? Sure. But fear is the least of my concerns. It’s all in my head - and if I’ve learned anything at all by overcoming anxiety in 5 years, it’s that -I- am in control of what happens between these two ears.

Aloha Hā’awina, Māhālo Kūmū

The belief I hold which serves me so well, is very simple:

There is always another way, and better places.

And I will find it.

Last night, I started putting together a speaker one-sheet. I’ve had a great deal of success working with this company since January. Every book that has launched under my watch - every single one - has made bestseller, making 23 bestsellers for our traditional publishing arm as I write this.

I’m getting out of this house, and will see the world - one way, or another.

Follow my journey here on Tumblr, LinkedIn, and Instagram.

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lesserpandeu · 6 years

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Around the World in 17 Days | Day 0

fandom: Seventeen genre: Fantasy + Angst & Fluff pairing: Seventeen x Reader (General reader-insert) words: 2,199 summary: Suffering from a condition that causes you to randomly end up in almost any place in the world, your life was a little chaotic, to say the least. When a solution seems to arise, you are more than happy to try it out. In order to heal, you need to meet the several people you are connected to by the red string of fate. And if this situation couldn't have gotten more ridiculous, one of them was your soulmate.You just don't know who.

A/N: previously posted on ao3, decided to post here on tumblr too~ This is just a short prologue to get the stage all set for the good stuff.

Prologue

Magic isn’t real. Going along with that line of reasoning, I guess you weren’t either.

Well, that isn’t exactly an accurate way to necessarily put that. Nonetheless, to say your condition or ‘ability’ was magic wouldn’t be out of the question; it wasn’t normal in any way. Supernatural might be a better way to word it. It wasn’t a gift to any degree, despite a brief onlooker’s thoughts. Lord knows you would help it if you could. It hindered so much in your life, down to the very essence of just even being able to live it.

Just three weeks after you were born, you appeared missing one morning. After a hectic panic that your parents went into for 24 hours, you had been returned where they had last left you. The authorities merely dismissed the case as to the fault of negligible parenting, ignoring your parents panicked and fretful insisting that something was wrong. The health professionals thought your parents were just as crazy. After hearing the same response wherever they went, they turned to the other insane people like them. Sorcerers, witches, fortune-tellers. A few “fakes”, as Rowan called them, found the story even crazier than their own mumbo-jumbo. It wasn’t until your parents found a real sorcerer that offered them an explanation. The “Santa Claus Condition” is what he referred to it as. A few people in the world were affected by it.

He explained that it entailed at random intervals of time, you would transport to different places in the world during the deepest point of your sleep cycle. How often this happened varied from person to person. For some, it could have been every two years, while for others it could be every other day. As time passed, you all figured out it happened about every two to three weeks for you. It was a gamble every time it happened if you would end up somewhere safe. One time at the age of two, you came home with a scar on the back of your right shoulder with no explanation.

Rowan was the sorcerer you saw regularly to see how you were handling your condition. He was a 50-year-old man, with a goatee and a little hat he wore. He claimed it was professional wear for his occupation. He was a chill guy, he kept you up to date with possible treatments that may have arisen, though you both came to see how many have come and gone, being seemed as ineffective. Your relationship was more for you to have someone to vent to, as you couldn’t exactly talk to a lot of people about it.

If there was anything good to have come out of this complication in your life, it had to be how tough it made you. Your “power” didn’t keep you out of war zones, extreme climates, or dangerous terrain. You’ve seen your share of fucked up. Sometimes you got nice destinations, like a cruise ship or broadway. But even those didn’t really make up for the harsher experiences you faced in your life.

One day, while at work, Rowan called you in for something “substantial” regarding the you-know-what. Excusing yourself a little early, you made your way to his tent in the slums of your city. His greeting was instant.

“Good evening, (y/n).”

“Hello, Rowan,” you said groggily. He noticed your tired voice and gained a modest amount of concern.

“What is it, have you made an unexpected trip to Brazil recently?” You chuckled and steadily shook your head.

“No, it’s just work,” you took a second to rub your eye carefully. “I’m due for a visit this week.”

“Interesting you say that,” he motione+d for you to sit. You complied, leading him to transition to what he had called you there for in the first place. “Would you like some tea?” You politely shook your head to decline. He scooted his chair in securely before crossing his arms across the table as he began.

“A new study.” He remained serious. “It looks promising this time around.” He put out his palm. You looked at it, seeing a red string. “Tie it around your finger.” You pulled it from his palm in compliance, used to these “bizarre” requests.

“Do you know what the red string of fate is?”

“Uh, I know what it means in movies: it’s a string that connects two lovers by fate.”

“Somewhat,” he sighed out, taking a sip of his tea. “It is often romanticized as such, but the reality of it is that it is at its basic form a string tying people together by fate. We all have it. But they’re typically too weak to really bring people together, what with our world being so big. This specific string,” he gestured with his head towards the string he handed you. “Has a charm. It’s meant to strengthen the natural string so that it pulls you and other people tied to the natural string together.”

You were having a bit of trouble putting it on when Rowan paused to tell you to put it on your ring finger. While you kept struggling with it, Rowan sipped on his tea. You knew him long enough to know when you glanced at his face, he was in a balance of frustration and amusement at your inability to tie the string. He continued once he set his cup down.

“According to this study,” he seriously leaned in, elbows still supporting him on the table. “Your power can help you actually meet the people you are tied to by fate.”

You looked up at him suddenly, never hearing him sound so convinced by one of his proposals. The both of you had always carried a certain amount of cynicalness when it came to methods of getting rid of your bother. This aura he gave off of the genuine belief that this might work sent chills into you. A glimmer of hope maybe. But just a glimmer.

“How is meeting the people I am connected to supposed to stop me from transporting all over the place?” you looked back down at your work. Damn, tying thin ass string is hard.

“Details are few, but this is the way that the first person cured of your ability did it,” he sipped his tea again. This allowed for the moment it took for you to fully process his words. Your head snapped back up, nearly scaring the sorcerer half to death.

“It’s been cured?!” You exclaimed a little too loudly.

“Yes,” he reached up to massage his left ear slightly, ears likely ringing from your outburst. “I can’t guarantee this will work, as it has only been done once. But none of that we’ve tried so far has been a guarantee now, was it?”

“Of course not,” you smiled shyly, a little embarrassed by your excitement. You looked down at your successfully tied string, “So how is this supposed to happen?”

“Its a process,” he began. “You go into a state of constant transportation, meeting one person a day that you are tied to after another until you have sealed both ends of the string together. That's the trick,” he sighed. “It's not very certain on how you can satisfy the draw of the red string.”

“I don’t even know what that means, Row.”

“It means what I said. The string will always continue to pull you to the people you are tied to unless you can fulfill the purpose that you have with the other individual. You need to find out why you are connected and how you can satisfy that connection.”

“That still doesn’t tell me much,” you scrunched your eyebrows in confusion.

“It doesn’t get much better than that,” he sighs, frowning slightly. Though you couldn’t tell if it was about your situation or the fact that he drank all his tea. “The subject in the study had to either encourage another person, to helping to teach a child to read. I would suppose you have to investigate what you need to do.”

“Difficult,” you yawned. “When should we start?”

“Because that string is on, securely I hope, tomorrow.” Oh damn, okay. “It should last up until you’ve met all the people you are tied with.”

“Like… all at once?”

“Yes, it should last an average for maybe six days or less. It depends on how many people you are tied to.”

“I hope its only one,” you admitted, mind wandering back to your many unfinished responsibilities at work.

“Oh,” his tone became playful. Something that didn’t happen often. But when it did, it put you on edge. “By the way, your soulmate is definitely one of them.” You choked on your spit and began coughing.

When you recovered you only managed one word, “...what?”

“The man, or woman, you were meant to be with is connected to you by the red string of fate. You will definitely meet them, and possibly need to headstart a relationship in order to fulfill the string’s need.”

“Oh, god,” you felt stressed, taking your head in your palm. Excited, but a little stressed. Were you supposed to meet your soulmate this week? Soulmates actually existed?

“Here’s a new sim,” he slid a case across the table, which you clumsily caught. “More data and minutes for practically anywhere, since this time is gonna be awhile.” You glanced at it, uninterestingly, before putting it away in your bag. You got up from your seat, adjusting your bag to hang by your waist. Your actions were noticeably more urgent than normal, your adrenaline getting the best of you.

“Well, I… I should go. I have a lot of excuses to make this time around for my disappearance. If that's all, I’ll be going.”

“Don’t forget your credit cards,” he reminded you. Transporting random places typically meant changing currencies constantly. Thank god for ATMs.

“Thank you,” you chuckled slightly, almost choking on the incense in the tent. Damn, he used a lot today. As you left, he yelled out at you encouragingly.

“Don’t forget to send postcards!” You cracked a grin, a more authentic one of your laughs escaping your lips.

Getting ready for bed that night made you more anxious than normal. You never transported many places all at once before. You at least hoped the people you were tied to live in safe places. How many people were you tied to anyway? Did that mean they were also tied to each other? What was this going to even be like?

You fell back on your bed after what seemed like the fifteenth call made that evening. This time was to let your parents know about the situation so they could keep a straight story if work or someone else asked where you were. Making an alibi for what you were doing was always a trainwreck. This time would probably be even worse. But hey, hopefully, it would be your last trainwreck. You would not make a great serial killer, despite your experience. In making fake alibis, not actually killing people. No, you don’t kill people. No.

Your phone buzzed again, but you ignored it, hoping it was just some confirmation email from your landlord regarding paying your bills early. Instead, you breathed in and out slowly, careful as to not fall asleep yet. While it took a cycle or two for you to transport, the three hours of sleep you had last night were encouraging you to take some well-deserved rest. Leaning your head to the right, you saw the picture you placed of you and your parents in front of the Eiffel Tower. You rarely traveled voluntarily because of your condition, so that trip was the only time you went as a family on summer vacation. You didn’t change much from what you could tell, maybe your undereyes were brighter back then. It was probably your favorite picture.

Hey, maybe one of your soul bros (the nickname you gave to those the string tied you with) lived in Paris? Maybe your soulmate lived in Paris? A short flash of heat hit your face and your chest gave a stutter just thinking about meeting your soulmate. How would you know who among them was it? So many questions you were dying to know the answer to circled in your head. Most importantly, the excitement of getting rid of your weird curse made you smile in anticipation.

Looking at the time, you saw it was 10:30. While you could typically stay up past midnight, you thought the earlier you got to sleep, the more rested you would be. Changing into your go-to transporting clothes, you lay on the top of your bed; shoes and backpack on. It looked odd, but you would rather wake up like this wherever you went versus in pajamas.

You fell asleep quickly, despite the momentary restlessness you felt as you turned off the lights. It was just a matter of time before you would meet the first person you were supposedly tied to by fate for some odd reason, which you would need to find out.

A/N: Hi. I'm like incredibly new to writing fics for Seventeen, I've only previously written for BTS. I'm going to try my best based on what I know and from what I find from other fans on the internet when it comes to their personalities so I might be inaccurate in some places. This is just a quick prologue to try to give you some information on the reader's story and what is going to happen in the story. Hope you stick around for the actual story <3!

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #reader-insert

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bigherosixfeels · 6 years

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Big Roommates REVIEW

SPOILERS BELOW

Well, the US is still waiting for new episodes of the show to come out. A new programming strategy is causing the delay, but the UK are getting these new episodes. It's frustrating, but I do hope this strategy ends up being good for the network.

For those wondering, yes, I do plan on reviewing each episode of the show. I like being able to talk about what happened and voicing some opinions at the end. So let's do this!

The episode begins in the school cafeteria with Fred and Gogo looking at mystery loaf which not only looks disgusting, but it also moves like Jell-O and I'm concerned as to why this is being served at the school. Although, according to Baymax, it won't cause any permanent damage to eat it which is reassuring enough to Fred until he tastes cilantro.

Meanwhile, Honey Lemon is reloading her chem purse at the table which is worrisome to Hiro, but fun for her since she gets to be around both her best friends and chemistry. Wasabi then rushes to the table in relief to see that Honey Lemon is alive. Apparently she had tried to make instant ice after her roommate made lemonade and she froze up her entire apartment (including her roommate). How...how did Regina get to...nevermind.

The gang is discussing where Honey Lemon could live for the time being. Fred mentions that Gogo has her own place, but Gogo shoots back mentioning his mansion. It would work out, but his parents insist on doing in-depth three year background checks for overnight guests. Honestly, given how rich they are, I don't blame them for taking precautions like that. Gogo tries to explain to Honey that she wouldn't like her place due to it being in a sketchy neighborhood, but Honey being the optimistic person that she is doesn't think it'll be that bad. Gogo then caves and agrees to letting her stay at her place. Honey is continuing to show her optimism and there's a discussion of whether or not the glass is half-full or half-empty. Wasn't there a Tumblr post explaining how that works? If liquid is added, it's half-full. If liquid is taken out it's half-empty. Something like that?

Everyone is happy to help Honey Lemon move in. Wasabi notes that there's a lot of jaywalkers in the neighborhood. Honey is happy to meet new faces and bedazzle a biker's motorcycle. The biker, who is properly introduced as Felony Carl, loves the glitter because it shows how comfortable he is with his masculinity. It's official. Felony Carl is amazing.

We're then introduced to Dibbs, a guy that walks proud, but is a terrible thief. He does manage to get a hold of an elderly lady's purse for about a second before instant karma literally hits him in the face and the purse gets back into her possession. He then spots Honey Lemon's chem purse out in the open. Rather than an easy snag, the purse ends up on a taxi and he jumps on the cab and falls off the car before making a run.

It's now night time and we're at an abandoned warehouse. Wait. Is this the same warehouse from the movie? If so, that's a great callback! Anyway, Dibbs talks to a rat about his (probably only) successful attempt at stealing. He doesn't understand that this isn't a normal purse, but his attempts to open it are cut short due to a couple people coming in.

We're reintroduced to Alistair Krei and his assistant! I was wondering when we'd be seeing him again. The reasoning for them being in the warehouse is that he's hiding something. A supposed "better version" of Hiro's neurotransmitter. Basically if you wear it, you can control anything linked to it with your mind. The only reason this version is better to him is because it's just different enough so he can't get sued. Congratulations, Krei. You're losing brownie points with me.

Overhearing that it'll be worth billions, Dibbs successfully steals it for himself. Unfortunately for him, the chem purse gets stuck and chemicals are released onto Dibbs, covering his entire body. He's now what is considered to be a monster.

It's now the next morning in Gogo's (and now Honey Lemon's) apartment. Honey is settling into the apartment, opening a box that releases an incredible amount of butterflies. They must be so happy to be free. The girls have rather different daily activities. Gogo punching a punching bag interferes with Honey's focus to meditate. Honey adding cute stickers to the fridge and everything inside it irks Gogo. Gogo accidentally destroys some of Honey's flowers. Honey's snoring causes Gogo to not get any sleep. The iconic Oh My God They Were Roommates™ vine is on loop in my head.

Later on, the gang (minus Fred) are at the cafe and Honey is asking if anyone has seen her chem purse. Gogo immediately believes it was stolen, but Honey doesn't think that's the case. Due to the lack of sleep, Gogo is exhausted and lulled to sleep by Baymax's calm music. The relaxing moment is broken by Fred who excitedly bursts through the door. He's ecstatic over the fact that there's a monster in the city. Nobody else believes this (despite the news report) because monsters aren't real. Of course, Fred won't let the matter drop unless the others check it out. Hiro decides to join Fred on this monster hunt. Meanwhile, the others are headed for Gogo and Honey Lemon's apartment. Baymax proceeds to pick up a sleeping Gogo and cradle her in his arms which is the most wholesome content I think we've gotten so far. Seriously, that was adorable!

Hiro and Fred are investigating for any clues that a monster has been around. Hiro steps in some chemical goop. Fred gets a sample on his finger and sniffs it up his nose. Ew. Then he (why did he do this) took it out the other nostril and put it on Hiro's face. WHY. Fred then proceeds to sing a song about how he was right about the monster which doesn't amuse Hiro in the slightest. The sound of screams has both of them jumping into actions (well, Fred is still singing, but you get the point).

Back at the apartment, Gogo has awoken from her nap and there has been no luck with finding Honey's purse. Gogo keeps explaining how is was probably (and it was) stolen, but Honey doesn't want to accept her negative views. The girls begin the argue; Gogo stating it's hard to respect someone who's happy all the time and Honey stating it's hard to understand why she's always so serious and cool. They storm off, but screaming from outside catches everyone's attention.

The monster is confidently walking in the street and Big Hero 6 is officially in action for the episode! Baymax scans him, stating what we already know, but he does have fragments of Honey's purse within the goop. Honey feels concerned for him, but the mention of a purse has him nervous. His attempt to flee is quickly cut short on two occasions. While he clearly doesn't have the hang of his new abilities, the team doesn't have an easy time against him.

Hiro and Fred join the fight. Fred comes up with the name Globby for our villain, which doesn't settle well with him. He asks the cliche "Can things get any worse?" and is immediately hit by a bus.

Taking Globby down is on pause for the time being and Honey is upset knowing that she should have been more careful with her stuff. She apologizes numerous times, even after Gogo points out she's doing so too much. Our usual bubbly, cheerful character has hit a rough patch.

Back inside the apartment, Wasabi is trying to remove goop from his suit while he, Gogo and Fred watch the news. Fred considers naming Globby his legacy. Meanwhile, Hiro is finishing up making Honey a new chem purse, but this doesn't please her. Gogo takes note of her friends’ somber mood and attempts to cheer her up. What she says doesn't get through to Honey and Baymax tries to help with a hug. That also doesn't work and Honey is ready to "face the darkness of reality".

The gang watches as Honey begins to create a compound that will un-stick the goop from Globby. Honey mentions that her beaker is half-empty, but Gogo argues that it's half-full. The discussion from earlier in the episode has reversed on the characters, leaving them all surprised.

We cut to Globby at a restaurant with Felony Carl. He mentions that he's having a hard time with his now mutated body (he grabbed a cat instead of a spoon). Felony Carl takes note of the headband that Globby admits he doesn't know how to use it, but seeing a photo of Krei sparks a new idea for him.

We get a quick shot of Krei Tech (rebuilt and everything!). And what is Krei up to now? Getting a statue of himself made. Of course. During the process of getting his sculpture finished, Globby breaks through the window and takes the statue before realizing his mistake and kidnapping Krei himself.

Meanwhile, Honey is continuing to make an un-sticky ball. Her negative attitude has yet to fade and Baymax suggests that a pleasant image may help. As he says this, some of Honey's butterflies flutter around Baymax. Gogo considers that a sign, but Honey doesn't want to see it that way.

Wasabi gets everyone's attention to watch the news which is about what happened to Krei earlier. I'm really glad that we're hearing his assistant talk and getting a feel for her personality. She seems nice and a little funny too.

Globby has Krei stuck to him as he climbs to the top of a building. He refuses to let him go until he explains how the headband works. Krei tries to get the neurotransmitter back while Bluff Dunder covers the current situation on live TV. Krei explains that all Globby has to do is think for it to work naturally.

Big Hero 6 comes to his rescue and immediately jumps into action. Bluff Dunder continues his constant updates. Honey offers Globby the chem ball that will help un-stick him. Globby is visibly stressed because all he wants to do is concentrate on thinking. He knows he's been making some bad choices lately and Baymax suggests positive reinforcement. The group looks to Honey who is unsure if she should, but Gogo assures her that her upbeat attitude takes getting used to, but it's good for her. These words finally get through to Honey and the girls share a quick hug before Honey starts to help Globby. Globby doesn't want to accept what she has to say at first because no one has ever believed in him. However, hearing that he can dedicate himself to making the best out of his situation and that he's special because no one else has his abilities inspires him.

Despite accepting himself as he is, Krei wants his prototype back and his attempt to un-stick Globby almost costs him his life when he slips off the building. Globby manages to use his new abilities to save Krei, earning an awkward thanks from him. Globby thinks all the thanks goes to Honey since she believes in him. He announces that his days of being a purse thief are over, which pleases Honey until he states what he'll be doing now. He's determined to be a super villain, making a sticky escape. The episode ends with him smacking himself into a window.

Overall, I thought this was a pretty enjoyable episode. There was humor, heart and an interesting origin story for our new super villain.

I really liked the character development that we got for Honey Lemon. I'm glad that we got to see a side of her that wasn't her usual self. Her negative attitude is a complete 180 for her. I enjoyed that Gogo continuously tried to help her feel better until it actually worked. Despite the differences that they had prior to Honey being sad, Gogo put that aside and was later on able to get through to her. Just...ugh that was amazing.

Globby is an interesting character. He's pretty comical throughout the episode, so he doesn't strike me to be a major threat for the time being. Of course, I'm sure we'll be seeing him again (If the description for Failure Mode is correct, we'll be seeing him pretty soon too.) I imagine once he learns to get a better hang of his abilities, he'll be more of a challenge. As I said earlier, I like that Globby got a little origin story of how he became Globby and it'll be cool to see him again. I'm glad that there's a good reason for the chemical compound being attached to him.

Speaking of the neurotransmitter, it was nice to see Krei again. I've always been indifferent to his character since the movie and I'm still indifferent now. He's still as money hungry as he was when we were first introduced to him so I'm not entirely surprised he's still like that. I have to admit that I'm disappointed to see that he has created a "better version" of Hiro's neurotransmitter. He wasn't able to accept Hiro's rejected offer and knowing that he's pretty much copied it continues to show his arrogance. I don't feel bad that Globby stole his prototype. Still, I can always appreciate seeing a familiar face and if he ends up building Tadashi Hamada Hall (I really hope that happens in the show), he may earn those brownie points back.

I loved our side characters from this episode! Felony Carl was such a highlight to this episode. He may be a one-off character (or we might see him again who knows), but he's so great. I'm also glad that we finally heard Krei's assistant talk. I'm sure we'll see more of her because we'll be seeing more of Krei.

I'm really liking the humor in the show too. There's always just the right amount of it and each joke is played out well. Wasabi had some funny lines. I liked Honey Lemon's "It's time to face the darkness of reality" line. I got a kick out of the scene where Globby took Krei's statue before realizing he didn't take Krei himself and came back to get him. Bluff Dunder was pretty funny during the last scene too.

I also I liked when some goop got on Baymax and Wasabi said, "Nobody does that to Baymax and gets away with it!" Lines like that are small things that I'm happy to hear.

I'm still not over Baymax cradling Gogo while she slept. That was so pure and adorable and I loved it very much.

The style of the show continues to grow on me more and more witch each episode. I love the character designs for the new characters and I think Krei and his assistant look pretty good. The animation flow isn't bothering me either. Every once in awhile, the lip syncing is just a tad bit awkward, but it's easy to look past (for me anyway). The scenery looks so good! This style honestly brings San Fransokyo to life.

On a scale of one to ten...I'd rate Big Roommates an 8!

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lightblindingme · 6 years

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Caught Between Two Lungs - Romelza AU

This is the second chapter of my Romelza fic that’s been in the works since forever i.e. it took me more than a year to update but hey, better late than never.

originally posted Jan 9, 2017

reposted on tumblr Feb 4, 2018

Summary:

Modern!AU: Ross Poldark had it all: wealth, friends, and women. But his reckless behaviour had put a strain on his relationship with his father, until he finally drew the line. Now, Ross is on a journey of self-discovery. And maybe a certain redhead will help him see the world in a new light.

AO3

Chapter 2: Bad News

Ross stood next to the window, gazing down the street, watching people moving hurriedly across the street and cars whose drivers seemed to be in as much hurry as the pedestrians as they kept honking.

He was trying to stay calm, to process all the information he got over the last twenty-four hours without shouting or breaking anything.

As it turns out, the brown-haired woman that stayed by his side while he was in hospital, hooked on those darn machines and fighting for his life, was Elizabeth, and the man was Elizabeth’s fiancé and Ross’ cousin, Francis.

Both of them were beyond happy that Ross finally woke up, having spent ten days in coma. According to them, the doctors that attended him feared he mightn’t wake up since he was pretty badly beaten up and had sustained a severe concussion.

His motor skills seemed fine, save that he had bruises and scratches all over his body as well as terrible headaches and couldn’t sleep. The doctors assured him and his relative that he would recover soon, but Ross did not in the least feel convinced.

He was surrounded by strangers, at least that is what those people were to him now. Even if he knew them once, there wasn’t a trace of a single memory of them which only frustrated him more.

Shaking his head to ward off further thinking that caused him headache, he went into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, his hands trembling as he did so. As he lifted his gaze towards the mirror, a stranger’s face that looked back at him did nothing to ease the sense of restlessness in his stomach. What is more, it made him sick to look at himself in the state he was in now so he quickly exited the bathroom, rushing towards the cell phone Elizabeth had left him in case he needed them.

Opening the contacts list, he found her number and dialled, resolute to get out of the hospital. All those doctors and nurses and constant check-ups and the overall smell of death and illness that hung in the air suffocated him to the point he was ready to jump through the window just to get out of there.

Luckily, Elizabeth answered after a few rings and said she would come as soon as she was able to, seeming quite worried for Ross.

He couldn’t blame her. He was worried about himself too. Ross didn’t feel like Ross Poldark, as they said his name was. He didn’t feel like anyone in particular. The fact that he was a stranger to himself scared him because, how could one forget oneself, one’s entire life?

* * * * *

“Ross, darling. Please, sit down. Francis should be here shortly and then we can discuss further steps regarding your situation,” Elizabeth pleaded as she pulled Ross onto the bed.

It’d been five minutes since she came and Ross hadn’t sat since, pacing up and down the room and raking his hands through his untamed black curls. The look on his face clearly showed his discomfort and torment, mirroring the battle happening inside him.

“Elizabeth, I cannot stand this anymore. I’ve asked you times and times to tell me about my life, my…past. I sense both of you are hiding something from me and I just… I can’t stand not knowing.”

He lifted his gaze towards the woman in question, noticing his words had struck a chord with her. In a vain attempting to school her features, Elizabeth reached for him once more,

“Ross-”

At that moment, Francis knocked on the door, looking cautiously between Elizabeth and Ross as if assessing some potential threat. Surely, he felt the tension in the room, noticed Ross’ distraught appearance and Elizabeth’s desperation.

“Oh, thank goodness. Francis, Ross has been on tenterhooks and I couldn’t dare to say anything without you,” exclaimed Elizabeth, offering a gentle smile to her fiancé.

“Of course, dear. I’m glad you waited for me,” Francis squeezed her shoulder lightly as he leaned down to kiss her forehead and sat on the chair next to Ross’s bed. Turning towards him, he asked,

“My dear cousin, how are you feeling today?”

Ross scowled a little, standing up once again and walking to the window, gripping his head tightly, breathing in deeply to compose himself.

“I’m not quite sure how to answer you satisfactorily. I haven’t slept, my entire body hurts and I can hardly stand upright but I can’t lie for too long either. I feel trapped, and this place is suffocating me,” he answered earnestly.

Ross turned and exhaled loudly as if trying to rid himself of some burden, then realising the silence in the room, observed his cousins, who were fidgeting nervously in their seats and exchanging odd looks.

“What is it? Please tell me. I’m already going mad as it is.”

Francis cast a look at Elizabeth once more, and when she answered his unasked question with a light nod, spoke. “Ross, please sit down. What we have to tell you is of great importance. Unfortunately, it is no good news.”

“What? Can there be anything worse than my losing my memory and almost ending up a cripple?”

Francis ignored his remark and waited for Ross to have a seat on the bed, all the while clenching his fists nervously and clearing his throat while Elizabeth took Ross’ hand intertwining their fingers.

“Ross, I’m afraid… I’m afraid… Your father, Ross. He passed away.”

The only answer Francis got was an empty gaze. Ross did not move nor did he make to speak. Elizabeth on the other hand, sniffed and wiped a stray tear off her flushed cheek. Ross remained silent though his breathing became ragged.

“How did it happen?” he finally asked after a few minutes, his voice unwavering, showing no emotion.

“Heart attack. When he got the news of your accident… they misinformed him. Told ‘im you died. With his weak heart and that quarrel you had had before you left the house… I am terribly sorry, cousin. It is a most unfortunate event.”

Lowering his head slightly, Ross took a few moments to try and recollect this man, his father. He searched and searched his memory but to no avail; his mind was a blank sheet, devoid of memories, his heart vacant of emotions towards the man save for common human compassion.

How was it possible he felt not an ounce of pain within his soul for a man who raised him and provided for him?

Ross felt anger bubbling up, simmering just under the surface of the emotional lid he struggled now to keep on, at least until Francis and Elizabeth left. Her hand was still holding his; he imagined she wanted to convey her sympathy and support. He could feel Francis’ eyes on him, patient, warm.

“My mother?” he managed to croak out, surprising even himself.

It was Elizabeth who replied in her calm, soft voice. “Your mother passed away when you were but a child, may God rest her soul. It was just your father and you.”

“Ross, please say something. I know we’ve thrown this at you but the doctors said we had to do it lest you find yourself wanting to go home and…well, wonder, you know. I’m terribly sorry. Elizabeth and I are, of course, here for you. Whatever you need, just let us know.”

“Francis is right. We’re here for you. We’ve talked and agreed it would be for the best you came to live at Trenwith, with us, so as to have someone caring for you.”

Ross couldn’t make himself respond anything but to faintly whisper, “May I, please, be left alone? I-I need a few moments for myself.”

He let go of Elizabeth’s hand and walked to the window again, focusing on the noise coming from the outside rather than on his racing heart and ever growing sense of despair and misery.

Francis and Elizabeth shared a look before getting up, Elizabeth hooking her arm under Francis as they left Ross’ hospital room, but not before both of them cast a glance at him one more time. Ross paid them no attention, merely waiting to hear the familiar click.

When the doors closed, he rushed to the bed and lay in it, pulling the covers over his head. His whole body shook as the cries ripped from his throat; he was overcome with grief for a life he couldn’t remember, a mother and a father he couldn’t recall, and genuine sense of hollowness that filled his heart.

#romelza #romelza fanfiction #ross x demelza #romelza fanfic #poldark #poldark fanfiction #romelza au #romelza au fic #my fics #my romelza fic #ross poldark #francis poldark #elizabeth poldark #demelza will appear later on #poldark fanfic

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razrrgames · 7 years

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not related to any of my current projects, but i did see a topic on @pinkuboa‘s blog about chase scenes, and while i did reply i do have many more thoughts on the matter that i couldn’t fit into one tumblr reply. so i’m going to try to write them all down here instead.

before adding your chase scene, consider the following:

does this chase scene have anything to do with the actual story? is there a reason for the chase to happen at this specific point in the game, or are you adding it for an adrenaline/fear factor? if your chase scene exists only to scare the player, i consider it a little cheap. in my personal experience, one of the scariest things in a horror game is not a chase scene itself, but in fact a game completely absent of them with the constant feeling like a chase could start at any second. when i say that i don’t mean your game needs to not have any chases at all, but create an environment where the chases are tied in with the story and the player’s current spot in the story.

are your chase scenes random events? don’t. please. please for the love of god don’t have random chase scenes. it’s incredibly frustrating to be close to solving something or have a hunch, but you end up being chased away from your goal by a random encounter and have to backtrack to where you were going. in addition, sometimes random events can get skewed; one person may encounter a chaser maybe 4 times through their entire game, and someone else might end up unlucky enough to encounter the chase 4 times in a single minute.

is the place the player needs to run to clearly indicated? would a player, without a guide, be able to find where they need to go? if your players absolutely require a walkthrough in order to survive a chase scene, you need to make the escape route more clear. one of the worst offenders of this, in my opinion, is the gray garden. a chase scene through a maze is the absolute worst thing you can do to a player in a chase scene, they get very frustrating very fast and may cause your players to give up and denounce your game altogether. mazes are good for other things, but don’t combine them with chasers.

ask yourself if you, the developer, are dreading the chase scene’s playtest. if you’ve made the chase scene convoluted or difficult enough to make even you not want to test it, you need to pinpoint the problem and fix it. if you hate your chase scene, why would you force it onto your players? i personally believe nothing you would hate dealing with should be added to your game; if it makes even you, the developer, not want to play your game, just imagine how many other people don’t want to deal with it either. again, this doesn’t mean you have to completely cut chase scenes from your game, but you need to make sure that it’s clear enough how to get through it. if you personally would hate playing it, your other players will probably hate it too. fix it!

one of the most important points imo is this: do you have a save location as close to the chase as possible without actually starting it? (disregard if saving from the menu is available in your game) i don’t think i need to mention how absolutely infuriating it is to be miles away from a save point and end up failing a chase only to have to backtrack from the save point all the way to the chase scene again. your save points should be as close to possible failures/death areas as possible. nobody wants to fail a scene over and over and have to tread for 15-20 minutes to the same spot repeatedly.

are your chase scenes predictable? as i saw someone mention before, there’s a game where the chase scenes always show up after a specific set of events/steps, and it became easy to predict them and prepare for them. part of the ‘terror’ that comes from chases is not being prepared at all and the panic of not having a way to fight back.

in my opinion, these things in general should never be combined with a chase scene: sound puzzles of any kind (your player will be focusing on getting away and probably won’t pick up on little sounds, especially if your player is hard of hearing), total darkness (really... do i even need to explain why chases in the dark are a bad idea), and FRICKIN MAZES

these are just according to my opinions and how i feel as a player. chase scenes in general tend to annoy players, but you can make them work if you do it right!

#not game #rpgmaker #idk what to tag this as (insert shrug emoji)#long post /

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afriendlyirin · 4 years

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Yo-Kai Watch 1 review

Reposting this because I ran afoul of the link bug. @staff Fix your website.

Tumblr is a hellsite and I do not respond to comments here. Go to the blog post at Dragon Quill dot net if you want to comment.

I recently tried out the first Yo-Kai Watch game, out of curiosity for what the rest of the mons scene is doing.

My most important takeaway is that anyone who says Yo-Kai Watch is trying to copy or replace Pokemon has clearly not only never played the game but never played any other mons game either and probably thinks Pokemon has a copyright on the genre. The two franchises share a target audience, but otherwise they could not be more different. Yokai talk and are presented as distinct characters, yokai cannot be commanded, and most shockingly of all, the protagonist isn't silent!

As for the game itself, it is a godawful grindy mess that can barely be called a game. But it has some interesting ideas, and I enjoyed the creature designs.

There is basically no gameplay in this game. Yokai fight automatically according to a basic AI with no input from you, so you can quite literally win battles by doing nothing. (There is even a speed-up button to facilitate this.) The only actions you can take are to use items, cure their status ailments through an action-command minigame, activate their supermoves, and swap out your active and reserve yokai. However, the game is so easy that you'll rarely have to do any of that outside of boss fights. Supermoves can basically clear a regular encounter in one use, but regular attacks will usually hand you victory pretty quick too.

The befriending mechanics are even worse. I did not think they could make Pokemon's mechanics worse, but wow, after playing this I am amazed at how much I took for granted.

So, because yokai get to be treated like people, you don't recruit them by shoving them in capsules until they're too tired to break out. Instead, they have a random chance of approaching you after a battle and saying they like the cut of your jib, so they'll agree to be summoned by you any time you need them. This is very cute and raises far fewer questions than Pokemon's version. It is also absolutely terrible as a gameplay mechanic. You can do exactly three things to improve your chances: Throw food at them during the battle, use a yokai with a special ability that makes befriending more likely, and, very rarely, if the battle drags out long enough, you might get a befriending bonus as one of many possible random drops from an event that occurs in the middle of battle. You can only feed a yokai once per battle, you will only know if you've befriended them after the battle is over, and you can only befriend one yokai per battle (out of a possible three). There is absolutely nothing you can do to actively pursue befriending; there is no action you can take in battle that makes it easier like Pokemon's status effects, you cannot keep burning items to increase your chances, you can't even drag the battle out because yokai will attack automatically. To make this even worse, you can't even easily farm encounters like you can in Pokemon, as yokai only appear in specific spots and only one can appear there at a time (if one appears at all!). If you fail to befriend one yokai, you may not encounter it again for some time. (This was the case for me with Happierre, who the game seems to expect you to get quite early, but I never could because he only appears in one very tiny location and if you whiff it, good luck finding him again. Ugh.)

The yokaidex also has really baffling organization. Instead of being numbered by order of encounter like in Pokemon, each type of yokai has its own separate section of the list, and they're ordered seemingly arbitrarily. Your starting yokai is smack dab in the middle of the list, and I don't believe it's possible to encounter entry #1 until the second area. Yokai are also grouped by "family" like in Pokemon, except that the evolution mechanics here are extremely bizarre and inconsistent; usually you have to fuse two specific yokai (or sometimes, a yokai and an extremely rare item you may never even know exists cuz random drops lol), except very rarely you can just level them, not that the game tells you which is which. The game in fact encourages you to constantly replace your team because yokai all have tiered power levels like in Shin Megami Tensei, so you have no reason to keep an outdated yokai in your party long enough for them to evolve through level in the first place. It's just an absolute mess. What was the logic behind this, seriously?

To add insult to injury, they apparently looked at event pokemon and said, "You know what our mons game needs? More of those." There are an absurd number of yokai who can only be obtained through extremely rare in-game events and gacha machine results, and an even larger number who can only be encountered in the postgame. Seriously, I finished the game without even seeing more than half the total yokai. Why??? I genuinely could not believe the final boss was really the end of the game, just because I had barely scratched the surface of the dex.

So yeah. As an RPG, this was a huge disappointment, and as a collection game, it was a constant exercise in frustration and futility. I know Pokemon has lots of room for improvement, but wow, it's like they surgically removed everything it managed to do right.

As for the plot, it's more involved than most Pokemon games, but only just. Every quest is: Something happens that is obviously yokai mischief. "I know this is crazy, but hear me out: Could this incredibly weird and abnormal thing happening in a game called Yo-Kai Watch be happening... because of yokai???" says Exposition Fairy. You walk five steps/talk to someone who is very obviously possessed. "Aha, my Yokai Senses are tingling! A yokai is doing a bad thing!" says Exposition Fairy. "Oh, no, that's bad, we need to stop them!" says Generic Video Game Protagonist. And then you beat the yokai until they stop doing bad things. Repeat times 100.

Seriously, every single freaking time the protagonists are COMPLETELY SHOCKED that a yokai is once again the reason this NPC is literally covered in evil purple smoke because what is subtlety. Why do fantasy stories do this. Why. Stop wasting my time.

And yes, there is an uncomfortable undercurrent of "the spooky goblin man made me do it". Literally the tutorial quest is the protagonist's parents having a fight, and you solve it by beating up the "makes couples fight" yokai that's taken up residence in your living room. It's... okay for a simple kids' story, I guess, and maybe it comes across differently in a Japanese context, but yikes.

Then all of a sudden at the very end you learn that the Yokai Evil Chancellor, who evilly took over after the Good and Noble Yokai King died, is responsible for all the yokai acting up, so you go into the yokai world and beat him up to the tune of a Power of Friendship Speech™ and I could not care less because I was introduced to the guy five minutes ago. So we can't even expect RPGs to have moderately better writing than action games anymore.

They also make the very confusing decision to have a voiced protagonist, despite not giving the protagonist any personality or backstory or agency or anything that would justify giving him a voice in the first place. He is a completely ordinary kid with a completely generic protagonist personality. He either says exactly what I was thinking, in which case I'm just annoyed I have to read through redundant dialogue, or he says something very slightly different, in which case I'm jarred out of the experience because SCREW YOU GAME YOU DON'T SPEAK FOR ME. They don't even have a practical reason for it, because they have an exposition fairy! I thought the entire point of exposition fairies is to provide information a silent protagonist can't, but instead it just means every cutscene takes twice as long because I have to sit through my avatar metalgearing everything the exposition fairy says.

I wonder if they originally were intending to go with a silent protagonist, but changed it at some point for... some reason?

The silver lining here is the yokai themselves. It is... really the only redeeming feature. The yokai all have absolutely delightful designs, and because they don't have to be ostensibly bound by real ecology, they can go completely wild without it feeling out of place. Thanks to the fact they talk and are treated like real characters, I'm not at all bothered by how many of them are human-like, and nor do we have to ask the question of where they're getting their tools and accessories. But the animal yokai are wonderful as well, and despite how varied the designs are they all felt like they had a clear, consistent aesthetic. I really enjoyed discovering new yokai and analyzing all the little details in them.

And yes, I thought the punny names were hilarious. Because the overall tone is less serious than Pokemon, they can have so much more fun with them without it feeling like breaking character. I particularly got a chuckle out of "Heeheel" and "Fishpicable" -- the fish yokai in general were on-point.

Additionally, though the actual plots of the quests are deep as puddles, I did enjoy how many of them used yokai in such varied ways. In addition to stopping yokai who are influencing people to behave badly, there are also quests where you need to bring in a yokai to influence someone positively, such as giving someone the motivation to do something they're apprehensive about or discouraging someone from an unhealthy obsession. Several quests even involve using a yokai you had to stop in another quest. There's even one where you use a yokai to influence someone, only for them to take it too far, requiring you to stop the yokai you summoned in order to put things back to normal. It certainly raises some interesting ethical questions that the game could have acknowledged a bit more than just in that one quest, but overall I thought it was a clever use of the concept and did an excellent job of reinforcing that yokai aren't just a purely negative force, but a part of nature we can coexist with.

So many of the mechanics I complained about really do make sense from a lore perspective -- the game completely avoids the ethical quandaries raised by Pokemon, and I never at any point felt like I was exploiting my yokai partners or doing anything selfish, even despite the same "gotta catch 'em all" element. Yokai explicitly consent to joining your team; you recruit them by paying attention to what foods they like and showing you are willing to make a real sacrifice to provide for them; and there's none of that stasis capsule nonsense either, yokai friends basically give you the equivalent of a calling card and are only summoned when you need them. (You can actually talk to several recruitable yokai who have fixed hangout spots in the city, which I liked.) Similarly, it makes sense that you shouldn't be able to control their every action. These things just happen to be really unfun game mechanics. But it does make me think that Pokemon could stand to take some lessons from this franchise... just not the ones they actually did. Stop trying to steal their aesthetic, Pokemon, your distinct brand is what makes you strong.

#yo kai watch #pokemon #video games #my posts #mons

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restlesscapacities · 4 years

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New “Normal”

The last time I posted on this blog was March 25, 2019 and I described the struggle of coming back from a depressive episode. So much has happened since then, I moved into my own apartment, adopted two beautiful cats, added more responsibility at my job, start working towards eating a vegan diet and focused on living a sustainable lifestyle. As noteworthy as these events are, I am writing today to discuss the most significant and recent event that has occurred: my recent diagnosis with manic bipolar disorder.

In early October of this year my doctor noticed that some of the symptoms that started occurring within the past couple of months aligned more with manic bipolar disorder than with my previous diagnosis of clinical depression. Additionally with my bipolar diagnosis the doctor also diagnosed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder due to the constant nightmares and anxiety attacks that are triggered by memories of my trauma. For most people this may not seem like much, but for me it was everything. I have been diagnosed with clinical depression since the age of 13 and during that time I had accrued such a vast knowledge of the causes, symptoms, medications and their side effects. I had a clear idea of what I was dealing with and in a sense I had a gained a sense of familiarity. Now with this new diagnosis I was put on a whole new arsenal of medications that I had never heard of before and I honestly had no idea what to look out for when it comes to manic episodes. I was distraught because I would have to be even more observant that usual to make sure that these new medications do not have any adverse effects on my body such as severe weight gain, acne breakouts, mood swings, etc. Additionally, I was not looking forward to needing to develop a whole new set of tools to help with episodes since the ones I had worked years would not help fully with my episodes. I also was terrified of what others would think of my diagnosis, bipolar disorder and post traumatic stress disorder have a much more menacing reputation than depression in society.

Flash forward to December and I can personally say I am slowly learning what to look out for when it comes to bipolar episodes. As well as attaining a brief idea as to the differences between bipolar episodes and clinical depression episodes. Personally I struggled with distinguishing bipolar episodes while they are occurring, they are much harder to distinguish than a clinical depression episode. Depression episodes consisted of a constant crippling mixture of sadness and darkness that just made me want to curl in a ball and sleep for the entire day. There was just a constant pressure of this weight on my chest that made me feel exhausted all day long, it was impossible to miss the feeling depression caused. However, my bipolar episodes are the polar opposite (see what I did there) there are two phases with my bipolar episodes: The High and The Low. The highs (typically referred to as mania) usually start off with me laughing at something super insignificant such as one of my cats making a cute face or my boyfriend saying a corny joke. Yet this isn't normal laughter, it's the all consuming kind of laughter that causes my eyes to start tearing up and my stomach to hurt. Once I start laughing it's hard to stop and usually I have to talk through the fits to explain I can't stop if I'm with someone. In truth when I had my first mania fit I was terrified, I felt as if my mind was split into fractals which was causing me to laugh uncontrollably. Another version of my highs is I get the sudden urge to do A LOT of online shopping. For example: One day I was just sitting at home on my couch and I thought "Man I really want to buy a new desk so I can paint in the living room". Five minutes later I bought this very expensive glass desk and attachable lamp off of Amazon even though in the back of my mind I knew that I couldn't afford to spend an overabundance of money. The lows always follow after the high has faded away, that familiar darkness creeps in and pulls me back down. I've noticed that these lows are still the same intensity but do not last as long as before. The max amount of time that a low has lasted for me was two days. Usually a manic episode pulls me out of the low and the cycle starts all over again.

Thankfully, I can say that the medication I'm currently on has caused the length of my episodes to significantly drop. I still have episodes at least 4 times a week but they are not as serious or lengthy as when I was first diagnosed. I can now reason with myself when I get the sudden urge to buy a llama off of Craigslist or adopt another cat. I also am so grateful that I have such an understanding and flexible team of people in my corner. My boyfriend can tell immediately if I'm having an episode and will constantly ask if I'm ok or if I need anything. I know that if a low is hitting harder than usual I have a list of people who will pick up the phone and talk me through it. I'm also so blessed that with the medications I am currently taking there is not any significant side effects. When I first started I noticed there was some weight gain but it was nothing that close monitoring of my food intake couldn't fix. I still have nightmares several times a night so I have to find the right dosage when it comes to my post traumatic stress disorder medication, but it's a step in the right direction.

There is a lot of research I will need to do to get a full understanding of what causes bipolar disorder and why I developed it after 7 years of treatment for clinical depression. I know it will take some time to feel the same familiarity as I had previously but the more I understand bipolar disorder the easier it will be for me to come to terms with my diagnosis. It is frustrating that there is not any solid evidence as to what exactly causes bipolar disorder, contrasting to the research on clinical depression. Some evidence points towards genetics while others point to chemical imbalances. The lack of research may be due to the fact that according to the National Institute of Mental Health "major depression is one of the most common mental disorders in the United States." While in a similar study by the National Institute of Mental Health stated "4.4% of U.S. adults experience bipolar disorder at some time in their lives." This can explain why there is such a huge gap in research for this disorder. In a way I use those studies to rationalize that I am apart of a small population of society with this disorder, but I am not alone. So even though there is not much research on bipolar disorder I can seek guidance from my psychiatrist and hopefully understand what may have triggered this disorder in the first place.

Until next time, thanks for reading about my journey for deciphering a method to this madness.

Sources

“Major Depression.” National Institute of Mental Health, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, Feb. 2019, https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/major-depression.shtml.

**I am archiving old posts from my website to tumblr**

#depression #biploar #anxiety #ptsd #survivor #mental health #mental health support #blog #awareness #mental disorder

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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Why Do I Love to Feel Blue?

http://fashion-trendin.com/why-do-i-love-to-feel-blue/

Why Do I Love to Feel Blue?

I hate summer. I hate it for the obvious reasons: heat, sweat, bugs. But mostly, I hate the constant sunshine. There’s too much pressure to go outside when it’s sunny, to wave at babies, to frolic. I feel this most intensely in New York City, where people say things all winter long like, “I just can’t wait for it to be summer again.” I can. I much prefer a coverage of clouds, Nina Simone records on repeat and to be alone with my thoughts.

I hate summer so much that a few years ago, I moved to Seattle for the weather. The Pacific Northwest city promised a consistent, atmospheric grayness — the perfect conditions for my frequent bouts of melancholy to thrive. You know that scene in Big Little Lies where Madeline says she loves her grudges? I feel that way about my ephemeral bursts of sadness. I am happier when I’m a little bit blue.

It sounds weird when you consider that Instagram mid-July is an endless feed of people celebrating summer, but I cannot be alone in my preference toward melancholia. It’s a Tumblr cliché, for one thing: loving thunderstorms, the feeling of a warm mug between two hands, sighing loudly. In fact, the recent American interest in Hygge strikes me as having a link to melancholy. Hygge is a tradition born from the need to cultivate joy in the simple things, most often associated with activities and decor to create a sense of cozy during long and harsh winters. Connecting the dots between Hygge and a culture (generally speaking) that wants to shelter itself from an increasingly harsh political climate is not particularly hard.

And besides, there’s an appealing element of coziness connected to it all, of burrowing deep into oneself, to snuggle up within the depths of your feelings.

To be clear, the melancholia I love is not the same as the minor depression I sometimes experience. When I’m depressed, it’s so much more than “feeling sad.” My emotions are flat, and I feel distant from the things that normally bring me joy. It’s not something I can simply “snap out of,” and I want to make it clear that I’m not conflating the two. When I’m in my ideal melancholic state, I’m very present in my feelings. I turn on music, I eat a piece of toast, I consider writing poems.

For a long time I thought my attachment to melancholia was just a symptom of being a sensitive artist; that only one such as I who keenly understands the human condition and is in tune with human suffering could find solace in a sad song or need a retreat from the sun’s unrelenting cheeriness. But in actuality, I think it is a way to help me deal with my stronger emotions. A way to bleed out the fear and anger and frustration that can at times, feel like it will swallow me up whole.

A School of Life video that dives into melancholy describes the feeling as, “a species of sadness that arises when we’re open to the fact that life is inherently difficult.”

“It doesn’t mean grim and miserable,” says the narrator. “It means grasping, without rage, the fact that the world is full of folly and greed; that it is rare to find inner peace; that it is hard to live comfortably with those we love; that it’s very unusual to have a career that’s both financially rewarding and morally uplifting; that many decent people have a very hard time. Often, sadness simply makes a lot of sense.”

It certainly does to me — but sometimes I worry if I enjoy it too much. Is it an act of hiding from something bigger or is it part of who I am? Should I fight against my urge to wallow? Why am I doing it all? I emailed with psychotherapist and psychoanalyst Dr. Diane Barth to dig deeper about my preference toward feeling melancholy.

“I like to think in terms of ‘feeling muscles,’” she wrote. “We build the strength to have a wide range of emotions by experiencing our feelings in tolerable amounts, gradually building the muscles to be able to manage whatever strong feelings come our way.”

For me, melancholia an active emotional state — but it’s a simmer rather than a boil, grayscale instead of black and white. I’ve spent the past few years feeling so fucking mad all the time in a society that doesn’t accept anger (especially black, female anger) that this feels like an intentional release of the pressure valve that contains my rage and fury. Melancholia has become the way that I keep from blowing up or becoming completely numb.

And according to Dr. Barth, I’m not alone.

“I actually think [that] for many of us, something like this isn’t so much a matter of it being an escape from stronger emotions as it is a way of helping us process emotions we might have more trouble with.”

So while my attachment to melancholy may not be “bad,” it would be beneficial for me to push on those moments to discover what I might be avoiding, what to bring to therapy rather than what to soothe away with a Solange album. Dr. Barth suggested that “one of the ways one might gradually get to those feelings is to really try to put into words what the melancholy feels like — physically as well as emotionally (like even where it’s located in your body and what color it is!).”

Perhaps the healthy way to approach melancholy is with moderation, to give room to those other stronger feelings even when it means making room for pain. I can savor hazy-sad moments as treats, as emotional indulgences. And in the interest of fairness, I promise to take a page from Lana Del Ray’s book and look for the melancholy beauty in summer, too.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by your emotions and don’t know where to begin, online therapy resources like Talkspace or NYC Well are a good place to begin. I’ve also found this guide to finding the right therapist helpful.

Illustrations by Juliana Vido.

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mialipsky-blog · 7 years

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UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL WITH PRESTON BAILEY DIRECTOR OF FLORAL DESIGN, SANAW LEDROD

Dear Readers:

As we prepare for our next PBProtege class on March 14 and 15, I wanted you to meet once more my amazing floral genius Sanaw Ledrod that would be also teaching you all of his floral tricks.

What is your title and what do you do at PBD?

I am the Director of Floral Design which means I execute the actual floral designs for the presentation based on the renderings. At times, I create my own original designs. I create designs for centerpieces, sculptures, vases, chuppahs, floral frameworks, floral chandeliers, bouquets, and other personal flowers. I also do floral selections for the centerpieces as well as for all the floral necessities of the event when I am training people to become a florist.

How does working long hours affect your home life? Does it impact your partner, spouse, children?

I consider myself a workaholic and hard worker as rooted from my family back home in Thailand. But after many long years of working, and maybe in part due to aging, I have noticed my health is deteriorating and I’m in constant pain. Working long hours has really seemed to bother me a lot as well as take a toll on my personal life.

Is there a time you considered quitting PB designs? Why?

It is a normal feeling to say, “I want to quit,” especially when you are overworked and overstressed. That said however, this is my passion and I love what I do. I believe that this is my calling to contribute my natural born talent for the good of this company. There are times when I feel so discouraged and lose my sense of inspiration to keep going, especially when I see people who do not give their best for the good of PB. I feel as if some people only work for the money. Some workers, at times, are very intimidating, dishonest, and simply not humble enough to accept that they are just too inexperienced in their respective positions.

If you had to change one (or many things about me) what would they be?

I think you should be more sensitive to your employee’s well being and better understand their respective position because some are becoming so abusive. Most of the time you are only thinking of the grand and elaborate designs, but it is a great challenge to me and my team as it requires a lot of hours to physically create. This is also expected to be executed using a very low budget. In the end, we tend to sacrifice more since we cannot hire the adequate amount of labor to beat the deadline. I would like you to be more realistic in your labor cost and materials. Give me more time to think, to design, and to plan your presentation, which is crucial and very important. Speaking candidly, stress is really killing me physically and mentally

What was the worst moment you have ever had on the job? (Tell us why)

I have a few moments and most come about when I am under time pressure. There are a lot of additional arrangements at the last minute due to lack of vital information. When I am not informed, I cannot prepare for something. Facing technical problems due to negligence by the design team that causes delays on my production schedule is a problem. When someone who has the power to boss me around while not respect my seniority and years of experience is telling me what to do, it causes a lot of annoying distractions. This can be detrimental to our design when you are trying to beat up the time. When I am given misinformation from the client regarding their personal flowers and style of arrangement they were looking for, it’s very frustrating.

After a hard day at work, what do you really tell your best friends that drives you crazy about working for me?

I have so much passion and love for my work, it was a gift! It was a well accomplished work of art and I’m proud of it.

What is the biggest misconception you feel people have about working in this business/at this company?

They think everything comes very handy and easy, when in fact it requires a lot of hard work, perseverance, and years of experience. It’s do-able only if you have the love and passion for the art.

I have always said we are like a family, and with that comes some high emotional moments. What do you feel about our company structure (or lack thereof at times)?

It is such a wonderful feeling that I have, the sense of belonging in this company as we work as a team. Everyone has a unique way of contributing their own skills and knowledge for the success of an event. After a long period of time, I have witnessed a lot of people just come and go: some are still here, some are gone, and there are those who come back for another chance of a lifetime. I think you should pay more attention to each and everyone’s position by rank according to their duties and responsibilities so that the ones who are at lowest are not always the victims of being bullied and overworked. I also wanted to point out that those who are given a higher position should know how to respect the ability, the talent, and the seniority of those who have already contributed a lot of their life for the success of your company. Seniority must be put into full consideration.

Do you feel that you are being paid a fair salary or do you feel you deserve more?

You have always been generous to your loyal and hardworking employees, and always understand our needs. This is the place where I’m planning to retire as long as my health will allow me to struggle for more. I’m hoping that those who have worked with you for 10 or more years will receive a good retirement plan and decent bonuses if we display good work for the whole year.

If I were to give you a raise, how much would you ask for?

Maybe 5% every year in order to beat the inflation and the high cost of living.

Blessings,

Preston

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UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL WITH PRESTON BAILEY DIRECTOR OF FLORAL DESIGN, SANAW LEDROD published first on their blog to my feed

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