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thenightfolknetwork · 5 months

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Greetings and salutations! Most people writing in say that it’s their first time doing so. I admit, that isn’t quite the case for me. I sent in a letter back in 1942, asking about whether or not I should medically transition—though of course the terminology was a bit different then.

I admit, I don’t remember the specifics of your response, but whatever it was, within twelve months I was taking testosterone pills. And I’ve been on HRT since then! It’ll be eighty years come January. I suppose I’m what you might call an elder in the community, though I certainly don’t look it.

That’s sort of why that I’m writing to you again. As you know, most genuses age getting older, but some age getting younger. My genus, whatever it is, does a combination of the two. I aged normally from when I was born til when I was 73. At that point, I died, spent about a day and a half decomposing, a day and a half un-decomposing, and then popped up out of my casket! My relatives were… surprised, to say the least. I think we all were. Regardless, I grew younger at the same rate until I was seven years and four months old, and then boomeranged and started growing older again. I’m currently in my third repeat of this cycle, putting me at about 375.

I don’t mind it, honestly. I know that a lot of folks who grow younger tend to dislike it, for very understandable reasons—being patronized by someone a fifteenth of your age is quite an experience. But aside from the condescension and not always being able to reach the top shelf, I think it’s pretty fun! Nothing beats hide-and-seek as a nine year old, and when I’m in the de-aging half of life, it’s always a relief to get my 30-year-old knees back.

There is another aspect to it, though. However my body ages, it de-ages in the exact same way, no more and no less. For example, let’s say I get a tattoo when I’m 27 years and two days old, while aging up. I’ll have that tattoo through when I die, and all the way back down to when I’m 27 years and 3 days old. It’ll disappear sometime during the following day, and by the time I’m 27 years and one day old, it’ll be like I never got it done. It’ll pop up again the next time I’m that age, but for those 40-ish years, I just won’t have it.

And attempts to change by body while I’m growing younger all vanish after the day—I’ve become very well-versed in wigs for this reason. I can change my body while aging up again (I don’t choose the tattoo example lightly; someday I’ll figure out a system that prevents me from getting overlapping ones), but it's a rather long wait.

Still, it’s primarily just a nuisance. I’ve had plenty of time to figure out workarounds and roundabouts. However. I’m almost 34 right now, and have about 14 months until I hit the date I first took testosterone. My boy-thday, if you will. Ahem. Anyway. For the past few years, I’ve been slowly but surely getting a body closer to the one I had when I started medically transitioning.

I’ve tried continuing to take T, consulting with other people who grow younger, even contracting time travelers to see what they could do, all to no avail. When these 14 months are up, I’ll have a form indistinguishable from the one I was so desperate to escape. From then, it’ll be about 20 years until I’ll have even a little-kid sort of androgyny again.

I have lived through this period in my life before. I’ve lived through it on five separate occasions. I will be alright. But every time, it hurts. Quite a lot. And I fear that these upcoming two decades will hurt even more, since I’ll know what it’s like to live without that underlying sense of constant pain.

I’m not exactly sure what I’m asking here, maybe you can tell me what my question is, but, um. Do you have any advice?

Thank you so much for writing in, reader. It's always lovely to hear from people who have found my advice helpful in the past, and I hope I can offer you the same comfort and support you felt in 1942.

An important thing to remember here is that, no matter what stage of life your body is at, it is still your body. To be clear: a trans body. Your physical appearance may seem to be resetting, but your life experience is not wiped out by each new cycle. You carry with you all your past experiences, and all your current perspectives.

You may or may not consider yourself to have been male during your first adolescence. The way we frame our own histories naturally varies from person to person, and not everyone retroactively identifies their younger self in the same way they identify in the present.

But regardless of how you perceive that earlier self, your current self is undoubtedly transgender. That doesn't change just because your body does. When your dysphoria starts to rear its head, hold onto that. Your body does not define your gender, and your identity is valid no matter what you look like.

Of course, you still need to find ways to manage that dysphoria when it happens. I'm sure you're well aware of your options for temporary, daily management of your appearance through wigs, gender affirming clothing, and so on. You might also consider applying a glamour to yourself to help your outward appearance more closely match your inner self.

If you're not a practitioner yourself, you can either use ready-made glamours or hire a practitioner to craft one to your own specifications. Even off-the-rack glamours can be expensive, however, so you may want to save this option for special occasions rather than daily use.

Beyond that, your best defences against the anguish of gender dysphoria are good mental and emotional health, and a supportive community. Be sure to practise regular self-care (real self-care, not the type invented to sell face masks and scented candles) and lean on your loved ones as much as you need to during this difficult period.

Finally, remember: your body is not the enemy here. You deserve to be treated with gentleness, love and kindness, and this extends to your physical self, too. Try to develop a practice of mindfulness and active gratitude, checking in with your body regularly and taking note of all the joys you can experience as a physical being, from enjoying the cold wind on your cheeks or the smell of clean bedding, to the delights of good sex, delicious food, or a hot shower after a long day.

This is a difficult time of your life, and you have my sympathy. But I don't believe it has to be a source of “constant pain”. Treat yourself kindly, let others support you, and know that no matter what the world perceives, you know who you are, and nobody can take that away from you.

#answered #the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies

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polyamorousmisanthrope · 7 months

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Polyamory Can't Come From Cheating

From: https://polyamorousmisanthrope.com/wordpress/2017/05/14/polyamory-cant-come-from-cheating/

I’ve been getting several letters that look like this lately:

Dear Polyamorous Misanthrope,

My husband has had an affair and now wants to have a polyamorous relationship. She is pregnant, and wants him to live with her. How do I get over my jealousy and stop being so inadequate as a wife?

Any poly person who says that being angry at being mistreated is a symptom of inadequacy or that being jealous is somehow a personal failing isn’t someone you need to listen to at all.

Cheating and Polyamory

I’ve got some advice for both sides of the coin here. Maybe you’ve cheated on your partner and want to be openly poly. Maybe you’ve had a partner cheat on you and then decide poly is the thing to do. In both cases, I’ve got some less than pleasant things to say.

If You are the Cheater

To repeat to the people who have cheated and think polyamory is going to be their Get out of Jail Free card, please understand that polyamory does not work if you are:

Lying to your partner.

Insensitive to your partner’s needs and desires.

Breaking agreements.

Expecting your partner to be convenient.

If you have cheated and want to save your marriage, you are going to need to earn back your spouse’s trust. That is almost certainly not possible while still being involved with the person you’re cheating with. It may not be possible at all.

If You are Being Cheated On

If have been cheated on and are being told that you’re to blame because of your “insecurities…”

You are being gaslighted.

Everyone’s behavior is always their very own fault. If you slap your partner for cheating on you, you’re being abusive. Your partner didn’t make you do it. If your partner says you were too stifling and that’s why the cheating happened, the partner is still lying and breaking agreements. You didn’t make them do it.

Maybe you are insecure and need to work on that. Fair enough. Still not an excuse for breaking agreements. The only ethical options available are re-negotiating the agreements or breaking the relationship off.

What Good Relationships Look Like

I’m not trying to paint relationships as throw-away things, by the way. My shortest current relationship is celebrating its ten-year anniversary this summer. The relationships I have survive happily because of three things that are really important:

We genuinely care about each other’s feelings.

I had a Bad Thing happen to me recently and the pain of it will hit me at odd moments. The last time FWB visited, let’s just say I wasn’t feeling all that sexy. He understood that and was fine with cuddling. Do I realize and like… care about the fact that he might have felt disappointed? Yep. Very much so. The point is that in good partnerships, there is mutual compassion.

I cannot overstate the fact that in a good relationship, the mutuality of care is crucial. You cannot abnegate yourself to earn the cookies of being cared about, though. If it’s not mutual, if it’s a one-way street, you are genuinely better off without that relationship. Love, deep down, is really what it’s all about. I say it over and over and over again. Without love, forget it.

We are honest with each other.

This has to be the most important part of the whole thing. My husband and I really did nearly divorce because of a lack of honesty in communication. We learned to be honest about what we wanted to do or not, and never to agree to something we didn’t want. We found that where we disagreed, because we knew there were no hidden agendas, workarounds could easily be found that everyone could deal with happily. (Were that not so, we would have parted).

We recognize duty exists in relationships

Duty is not a popular word and I have been in relationships that eyeroll duty. Never, ever again. It is my duty to be honest about what I think and feel as well as volunteer my emotional state. It is my duty to do what I say I am going to do. It is my duty to tell my partner if my feelings have changed and I want something else.

I do not consent to relationships in which people do not feel the same way about the paragraph above.

This makes it sound all harsh and cold and no fun, which is, I am sure, why the word has fallen out of popularity. But that’s not what my life looks like. It feels secure and comfortable. I know my partners will not grudgingly stay with me if they are unhappy. I know they’re in my life because they want to be.

I recommend a few articles, though, if you are dealing with a partner who has cheated on you, and you’re trying to decide what to do in the face of it. Yes, this is stuff I’ve written, but I think it’s important.

Boundaries

How to Rebuild Trust

Vetos (Hint: Hate ‘em and think they’re crap for learning appropriate boundaries)

The Emotional Bank Account

#polyamory #polyamorous misanthrope

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is-the-snake-video-cute · 1 year

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hello! you very kindly answered an ask of mine recently, and now that i’ve gone through your ball python tag i have a few burning questions!!

1) i’m having a very hard time keeping humidity up for our BP. she’s been doing fine, but she shed recently and it didn’t go as smoothly as it has before. after reading a few of your tips, i think i’m going to try helping her with the last little bits of skin with some reptile shedding spray and a short soak. do you have any other tips here? i know i should keep the water shallow and not try to force off any skin with my fingers.

2) this wasn’t the worst shed ever, but i’d really like to get ahead of it next time and just go ahead and figure out how to get her humidity right. i’m already using coconut substrate, but misting with a sprayer doesn’t seem to be cutting it. i was planning on buying a fancy reptile humidifier, but i haven’t seen that discussed much here. i saw you say somewhere to add water to the substrate itself, but what exactly does that entail/how much should i use? and about how much substrate should actually be down in the tank?

3) for her enclosure itself we’re using exo terra’s 40 gallon tank, which comes with a screen top. we covered a lot of it with a towel (also serving as a privacy curtain) to keep in humidity but i wasn’t sure if that was a good idea or not?

sorry to ask so many questions!! thank you so much for your time!!

(oh, last note! i know 40 gallons isn’t the right size for an adult BP, but she is currently about the same length as the long side. i haven’t had her long enough to know quite how fast they grow, should i be scrambling for a bigger enclosure now?)

Hello hello - these are all good questions, and I really love the care and love you're putting into giving your snake the best!

A soak sounds like a great idea. Make sure the water is lukewarm but not hot - it should feel the tiniest bit chilly on your fingers. Giving your snake a washcloth during their soak is a great idea because that gives them something to hold onto and they'll often be able to rub stuck shed off themselves with it.

I recommend no less than an inch of substrate. How much water you add to rehydrate depends on how big your enclosure is, but a good general rule for a 40 gal is about a cup of water poured into the corners will do nicely. Especially since you've got a screen-top enclosure (which are very difficult to keep humidity in), if you want to spring for a humidifier, it might be a good idea. I don't personally use them (because I'm old and I prefer to limit the number of devices that could malfunction in my snake enclosures), but it might work well for you in this situation. Another trick for raising humidity levels is to make sure you're keeping a deep water dish on the warm side so it'll evaporate into the air (though, again, with screen-top enclosures that'll only do so much).

A towel can help to retain humidity in screen-top enclosures, but there are a few other tricks that might work better. A sheet of plywood or PVC cut to cover most of the enclosure is what I've found to work best; failing that, covering the top with tinfoil you've taped down securely is another good option. Screen-top enclosures can be a bit of a nightmare with humidity-loving snakes like bps, but there are workarounds!

How fast a snake reaches thier adult size depends on how much they eat and individual variation, but in general you can expect most snakes to reach their adult size between 3 and 5 years old. Some will be faster and some slower. If your snake is comfortable in a 40 gallon now, that's fine! I prefer to get snakes in their adult enclosures at around 2 years old, but there's no need to scramble. Just keep in mind what she'll eventually need (I recommend no smaller than a 4x2x2 enclosure), plan for that eventuality, and prepare to have it when she outgrows her current setup.

All the best!!

#not a rating #ball pythons #snake husbandry

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wonder-cripple · 1 year

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I really don’t make posts like this ever, but I need to say something, and I need people to hear it and share it. I need this post to get LOUD.

Systemic ableism is affecting me so badly, it’s actively hazardous to my safety.

I got my doctorate in psychology back in April and a job offer in June. Two weeks later, an agency ready to hire me changed its mind, because their building had no elevator. They offered remote services I could’ve provided, but they chose not to hire me instead.

A similar pattern has followed over the course of over 70 job applications and interviews since then. Everything is fine, until I mention the wheelchair. That’s when the shadow crosses their faces and I can just tell that I’m not getting the job.

And the excuses just get flimsier. If it’s not office inaccessibility, it’s my inability to conduct home visits for similar reasons, or my inability to get out of my wheelchair to chase kids down hallways. Never mind the fact that there are a million approaches to therapy, a million potential workarounds, other staff that can help, the THOUSANDS of predoctoral school and clinical hours I’ve amassed. None of that matters, because these agencies don’t even TRY to be inclusive.

It’s starting to sink in that it might be years before I’m employed, if it ever even happens. And if I can’t get my two years of postdoctoral supervision, I can never get licensed. I can never start my own practice or get hired for a stable position.

And why does this matter?

Because gainful employment can mean the difference between life and death for disabled people. It could mean the difference between escaping abject poverty and not, surviving and not. Because our lives are expensive. Our needs are expensive.

Most importantly for me, it can mean the difference between an independent life and not having one. The ability to start a family versus not being able to, something that’s very important to me and all I’ve ever wanted. And every single fucking time an interviewer looks down in dismay when I mention my wheelchair, every single time I get a rejection email citing some form of inaccessibility, whether direct or indirect, my will to live shrinks that much more. Because I’m tired. I’m tired and I’m FURIOUS. This shouldn’t still be an issue in 2022. I did not devote literally my entire life to the pursuit of helping others feel better about life just to have every door slammed in my face because I’m disabled.

At my eighth birthday party, I had a “feelings corner”, where party guests feeling sad could come and talk to me in private about what was bothering them. I’ve wanted to do this for my entire life. Before I even knew it was something you could do for work. And I might not be able to. No matter how much I love it, no matter how much I want to use the skills I have to help people — especially marginalized groups — I might not get to. It might not happen. Because people are intimidated by the idea of a disabled professional.

My hope is just about gone, and if it wasn’t for amazing people like @kindred-sword distracting me from thinking the worst, and God forbid, doing the worst, I don’t think I would even be here to write this post. I would’ve been gone days ago. I’m fed up, I’m angry and I’m exhausted. Something needs to change, and soon. We matter. Our lives have value and so do our skills.

Disability is not and never was the problem.

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tryslora · 5 months

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On Being a Neurodiverse Creative: Introduction

Welcome to a series of posts (randomly posted—don’t expect a schedule out of me) on the subject of being a Neurodiverse Creative. About how being ND and creative at the same time affects my life and how I do things. How being ND can be both a superpower and a curse all at once.

To that end, let’s start this series with a proper introduction.

Hi there. I’m Tris, and I have ADHD.

I just received my formal diagnosis this year. I’m 55 years old, and I’ve spent my entire life relying on coping mechanisms and workarounds, but it was only after my son started dealing with his own ADHD that I started to recognize that maybe, just maybe, I had developed those workarounds because of ADHD.

But I couldn’t be ADHD, could I? I tested well (so did my son…). I mean. I struggled with reading comprehension, and memorizing history dates felt impossible, but I got great grades as long as I cared about the subject. I was good at making lists, and I could get things done. Although I am a pack rat, and a mess, and if it wasn’t interesting, it just kept slipping to the bottom of the list, and oh… Ohh.

When I got my official diagnosis, my evaluator and I talked for a while. We had two sessions. One was the informal questions, one was the formal questionnaire required for diagnosis. Afterward she said that she was surprised I had never been diagnosed before. I blame it on my age, and on the fact that I was raised as a girl in the 80s. I was well-spoken, and quiet. My inability to sit still only translated into sitting on my feet and changing position, not running around the room. I talked a lot (too much, and was punished at one point by being separated from every other student so I couldn’t possibly chat wth anyone), right up until I learned I could read in class instead.

I flew under the radar, and I developed those aforementioned coping mechanisms, and everything was great, until suddenly… it wasn’t.

So here I am at the age of 55 and I’m really looking hard at all my past habits. My past productivity. Things that worked then and don’t now, and vice versa. Places where my brain just STOPS and nopes out of a task. I am analyzing everything I do, and how I do it, and trying to understand myself better.

And I thought, as one does, that maybe I should do some of this analysis in public. Where other people can see it, and possibly benefit from it. Or at least, perhaps, feel like they are not so alone.

Because that last is a big deal. There have been so many times along my creative journey where I felt like I was one person feeling a certain way, and meeting one other person who also had the same problem/thought/etc. allowed me to break past whatever block it had caused.

So that’s who I am. I’m Tris. I have ADHD. I am still trying to figure out how to make it work as I try meds, as I get older, as day job and life stress get to me. And as things change, y’all are welcome to come along for the ride.

#neurodiversity #writing #amwriting #blog series #nd creative series

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pikapeppa · 6 days

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Hi!

Just finished re-reading Desert Blooms and Western Wind, and gearing up for Becoming Whole and wanted to remind you how awesome you are!

But my actual point, I stumbled across you during my AloyxDrakka phase and then you managed to suck me right in to Kotaloy…

And then I got in to BG3, which you were right behind with Kiss me on the Mouth & Someone Great. And I have to confess I wasn’t all too keen on exploring a Halsin ship, let alone a HalsinxAstarionxTav ship but you’ve sucked me right in to that too…

And while my brain festered away on Rolan, I stumbled across Catskarky’s Mass Effect comics which preemptively started my GarrusxShepard phase (and forced me out to buy the trilogy which I’m now just concluding). And so anyway, that got me thinking and I vaguely recalled that I’d seen you had previously dabbled in the ME fanfic space and I was right, and I’ve come to this conclusion:

You are the ultimate source of good games and great ships (ignoring your unfortunate Shakarian oversight lol). So please, please share your wisdom! Recommend anything and everything. I literally value no one’s opinion more in this!

HAHAHA OKAY BUT this made me laugh, both with delight that you've enjoyed so many of my beloved ships -- but also because Shakarian is my OG ship. Garrus Vakarian is my first-ever OG videogame boyfriend LMAOOO. The reason I haven't written any significant fic for him is that my Shepard picks the control ending, meaning that she sacrifices herself to save the geth and EDI and thus she essentially "dies" and leaves beloved Garrus alone... and I could never write that. I can write angsty-ending ships, but I just don't have the heart to write a ship where one member of the pairing literally dies. (And no, I've never considered doing a non-canon workaround because I really like the control ending as it is, which may be an unpopular opinion, but I'm sticking to it!)

I have written one (1) Shakarian oneshot, though!! It was shortly after MELE came out and one of my BFFs got into Shakarian, so I wanted to see if I could bring myself to write them, but this oneshot is as far as I got, sadly 😭❤

(more below the cut!)

As for other game recommendations: off the top of my head, Dragon Age and the Witcher come to mind -- specifically Dragon Age: Inquisition and The Witcher 3, which are both the third installments of their respective series. DA:I has historically been the greatest source of fic inspiration for me, and my Geralt/Reader series might actually be my favourite body of work. You can play both of these games without having played the previous two games -- this is what I did, and both games are among my top 5 favourites!

To prepare for playing these games, beloved friends had recommended some primer articles for me, which basically just introduce you to the lore and the worldstate so you can jump in. Those articles are here, if you decide to check out these games:

The Witcher worldstate for dummies

The Dragon age worldstate for dummies

As for the rest of the Witcher and Dragon Age games: I can't speak for The Witcher 1 and 2, since I haven't played them, sadly! I played the first Dragon Age game (Origins) once, and I... struggled a lot because the gameplay shows its age now. I'M SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO SWEARS BY IT, but I just didn't enjoy playing all of it. The storytelling is good and the companions are a treat, but I wouldn't be able to play it a second time.

I loved Dragon Age 2, and I adore the companion dynamics in DA2 even moreso than in Inquisition, but I actually have only played DA2 one and a half times, mainly because the gameplay is also dated now. It's definitely playable though, certainly moreso than DA:O in my humble opinion, so I would recommend it! And I will say this for DA2: Fenris is the canon romance that I fell the hardest for and have written the most for, of all my videogame LIs. Take that to mean what you will. 🤣

If you like anime, my top two favourite animes are ones that I've also written for: Samurai Champloo (which would be considered retro now 😭💀) and Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. Both of these anime made me cry for very different reasons, and I highly recommend them! You also don't need to have played Cyberpunk 2077 in order to follow and enjoy Edgerunners (I haven't played it), so don't worry about that!

In terms of other recommendations, you can check out my writing masterpost, which lists all the fandoms I've written for and the ships within them. This could help you decide on what you want to play (or watch) next! ❤

If you want any more recommendations (movies, shows, books etc), feel free to hit me up with another ask or a DM! NOT THAT I CONSIDER MYSELF ANY KIND OF AUTHORITY ON ANYTHING LMAOOOO, I'M JUST A POTATO SMUT WRITER, I swear I'd only offer this if someone asked first 🤣🤣🤣

Enjoy!!! And THANK YOU GENUINELY for the praise!! You don't know how much it thrill me when people tell me that they got started with one of my ships and trusted me enough to try ones that they'd not considered before. It means the world! 😭❤❤❤

-- much love from your friendly neighbourhood Pika! xoxo

#fanfic writer's life #pikapeppa writes #i won't be a nuisance and tag all the fandoms and ships but PLEASE KNOW I'M CONSTANTLY THRILLED BY MULTIFANDOM READERS 😂🥰❤❤❤#please forgive any typos too i should really be running off to shower and go beddy 🤣💀

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sailforvalinor · 4 months

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📔

Since last year, I’ve had an idea for a Harry Potter fic rattling around in my head prompted by the realization that Lily’s death is necessary for the love-magic-protection that enables Harry to survive both killing curses, but James’s isn’t—what does the world look like if James Potter somehow survives? I came to the conclusion that because the protection spell that Dumbledore originally uses to protect Harry until he comes of age applies to those of Lily’s blood, he would still want him to live with the Dursley’s, and thus Dumbledore decides that the best course of action is for 21 year old, traumatized, newly-widowed James to fake his death. It’s safest for Harry, the Death Eaters already think he’s dead, and it’s really useful for Dumbledore to have a piece on the chessboard that both the Death Eaters and the Ministry don’t know about. James isn’t thrilled about this, but he’s too distraught (and too used to Dumbledore being right about everything) to argue. He’s really only a few years out of school, after all.

I know I had worked out all the logical kinks on this one at some point but I don’t really remember now—but the fic would involve James working as a sort of secret agent for Dumbledore, a wild card, if you will, while keeping an eye on Harry from afar. This James would be a little different than the one we’re familiar with—a bit more mature and serious, and of course absolutely wracked with guilt. He hardly resembles who he used to be after losing Lily, and he’s pretty dang desperate not to make any more mistakes, lose anyone else.

Snape of course is one of the only other people who would know James was alive, and the bad blood between them is as terrible as ever, as Snape would blame him for “letting” Lily get killed. (As if James doesn’t blame himself enough.)

Sirius would also know, as he was the first one to Godric’s Hollow after the attack and would have found James, but that doesn’t do much good after he’s arrested. The only way I can think to workaround the fact that Dumbledore would know Sirius was innocent if he had talked to James is if James was so seriously incapacitated after the attack on Godric’s Hollow (don’t ask how I don’t know. WAIT MAYBE IN THIS VERSION VOLDEMORT ENCOUNTERS LILY FIRST AND HER LOVE MAGIC EXTENDS TO BOTH HARRY AND JAMES??? OH MY GOSH???) that the “trial” occurs before James is lucid enough to talk and Dumbledore gives evidence against Sirius because he assumes he’s the Secret Keeper.

Other than fulfilling Dumbledore’s wishes and keeping an eye on Harry, James spends a lot of his time trying to figure out how to break Sirius out of Azkaban. Maybe he succeeds earlier than in the original series? He also is trying to hunt down Peter, of course—probably spots him in the newspaper like Sirius does. Or maybe he sees him with Ron while watching Harry?

Does Remus know that James is alive? I’m gonna say yes, but Dumbledore doesn’t know that. It makes no sense for him not to, he’s the only friend he has left.

I figure by Prisoner of Azkaban, James has had enough of Dumbledore’s nonsense and reveals himself to Harry—it would be pretty dang poetic if it’s during the first patronus scene, and it IS actually him casting it from across the lake. How would Harry react to finding out he’s been alive this whole time? Idk, it would be complicated, but man I’m getting emotional just thinking about it.

Also, while it does make sense that Dumbledore wouldn’t want James to use his original wand, I know it makes the most sense for James to have acquired a spare one somewhere—but the concept of James Potter with a Glock hit me over the head with a broom, and I’d love to somehow finagle it into making sense because can you imagine? Someone in the HP universe with a gun?? The comedic potential???

A dementor: *appears*

Harry and Sirius: “EXPECTO—“

James: *shoots it in the face*

#james: *shoots dementor in the face* ‘AVADA KADAVRA’#I’m a little obsessed with this James being kind of terrifying. not in a ‘cold calculating danger’ sort of way but a ‘white-hot #unpredictable burn-you-if-you-get-too-close’ sort of way. who knows what he’ll do. like you see Harry and he’s got a bit of an edge but #then you meet his dad and you’re like ‘oh THAT’S where it’s from.’ (ik people love the parallels between Harry and Lily but we are missing #out on the Harry and James ones). kind of obsessed with the idea of James being one of the only people Dumbledore was ever scared of #(especially if he ever found out about his REAL plans for Harry…)#also I keep thinking about one of the strange things to happen during Harry’s childhood (like the blue hair and him teleporting to the roof #of the school) is him being watched as a six year old by a stag on the playground. this happens multiple times #james potter #anyway does this make sense? it’s 3 am and I don’t know #also this James would 100% have a Moment about the resurrection stone

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copperbadge · 2 years

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I’ve been doing more research on ADHD after the diagnosis, specifically watching some channels that you guys and others have recommended, and it’s actually a fascinating process coming at the diagnosis from the far side of forty instead of the near side of twenty.

I have a ton of coping mechanisms, which I developed because “Well, I’ve got to deal with life somehow”. In the evaluation I had with the psychiatrist, I was basically diagnosed on them. Some of the more simple ones really seemed to fascinate him, like taking the doors off my kitchen cupboards and hanging my keys on the knob of my self-locking door.

Many of the videos are about helping younger people develop these coping mechanisms -- not relevant to me, generally, although some of the tips are still useful, like the idea that whatever you’re doing to cope, it’s meant to lower the demand on executive function. I’m fortunate in that my diagnosis is inattentive, I don’t have the hyperactive angle, and thus don’t have a ton of need for fidget toys or sensory stimulation in the way the videos talk about. The fidget spinner I have is cool because it’s Captain America, but it doesn’t like...help, per se, and after about two minutes I get frustrated with the fact that there’s no result, it doesn’t produce anything. I do best in meetings and classes when I have something to occupy me, but it can’t be tactile, it has to at least partially engage my brain, and knowing that I need a brain-fidget rather than a hand-fidget will be helpful in coming up with appropriate (and socially acceptable) workarounds.

Not sure what to do with all the discussion of emotional regulation; I feel like I’ve got that bit figured out but also like maybe my solutions aren’t the healthiest, so we’ll see.

I think perhaps the most useful thing is the idea of identifying a need or issue and then finding a workaround for it as a conscious process, which is usually something I do instinctively. This one video was about going to Target specifically to shop for products for kids that could still help adults with ADHD, and while most of it was fidget toys, I liked the idea of browsing with the focus in mind of finding tools for workarounds. Which led to the idea of, well, what am I working around? and the concept of consciously identifying ADHD-specific issues. So that’s something to think on for a while -- aside from the Adderall, what are solutions to specific ADHD-driven issues I have?

I suspect because I am older and well-trained in problem solving I may not get as much assistance from videos or books about living with ADHD as a younger person might, as I might have as a younger person. I think I may look for something more along the lines of a layperson’s medical text; I’d like to know what we know about how ADHD affects function, because that will be more helpful to me in identifying ways my experience of reality is not neurotypical, and then I can come up with my own workarounds. Because it is a trifle frustrating to look for more information and get a lot of stuff -- useful stuff, just not useful to me -- about fidget toys or bullet journaling. :D

Plus...the biggest hurdle I’ve had is an inability to start and carry-through tasks, and the Adderall does a great job with that, so a huge looming issue is resolved, or at least on its way to resolution. Other than that I don’t really see many problems that are going unaddressed, but that’s where a more thorough knowledge of the actual biology might help me shift perspective.

Anyway. Get in losers, we’re going to Target even if we don’t need fidget toys, because Target is fun to shop at.

#sam has adhd

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pastafossa · 8 months

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Hiiii, I’ve been gone a while, and just decided to catch up on TRT, I noticed you haven’t posted in while! Just wanted to say I hope you’re doing okay!

Thank you so much anon! 😭 I'm ok! I did however, unfortunately, catch covid at the con where I met Charlie, and true to my doc's warning, it ran my ass over. Most of the symptoms are gone now but I've been dealing with some monstroussss brain fog every since - lots of forgetting words (including character names), can't concentrate, etc. It's made writing incredibly difficult.

BUT the good news is I've been working on finding workarounds and/or ways to adapt my writing process, and have had some success. And I've also been writing in tiny chunks as my focus allows! Put it all together and I have finally managed to bang out a chapter, scheduled to drop this Tuesday! Editing it as we speak. ❤ We'll see if I can get back to weekly updates (my goal) but at the very least we'll have a chapter drop soon!

#the red thread #honestly it's taken a while and some experimentation to find what works #and i'm getting there #i'm not sure if i'll need to adjust for this permanently or just for a while but #it's working at least!#so we'll have a new chapter up tues ❤

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jinxquickfoot · 6 months

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@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Mind Control

Find the fic on Ao3

“Well. This is ominous.”

Tony stares around the deserted Times Square, his suit not picking up a single heat signature in a five-mile radius. Abandoned cars surround him, their doors gaping open. Some even have their engines and radios running. As though everyone in the city center has vanished into thin air.

“Yeah, you don’t say.” Rhodey lands beside him, keeping the War Machine faceplate down, making sure he and Tony can’t hear anything but each other. “I knew Kilgrave was making himself more powerful, but he can control a whole city now?”

“Not a whole city,” Tony reminds him. “Just… the parts we can currently see.”

“Uh-huh. Very accurate, Sherlock.” Rhodey exhales, the sound crackly over the comms. “He said we had until sundown. Drama queen.”

“Yeah, yeah, revenge, power, discredit my name, I’ve heard it all.” Tony makes another slow circle, taking in the eerie landscape. His heart leaps when he sees just how close the sun is to touching the horizon. “Any luck on finding the missing civilians, J?”

“If I had, I would have updated you, Sir.”

“Cranky,” Tony comments. He turns to Rhodey instead. “Okay, hot shot. Give me ideas.”

“You’re the genius, make your own.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“No? Really, that’s not how it works?”

“No, how it works is that you voice the stupid ideas, we get those out of the way, and then I take what’s left and make magic happen.”

“You getting enough oxygen in that helmet? You’re sounding a little—”

“Delirious? That’s just how genius sounds, honey bear, you’ve been around me long enough to know that.”

“If we could please focus, we have hundreds of missing hostages to locate.”

Tony clears his throat. “I know, I know, we’ll find them. Kilgrave’s a pain in the ass but he’s just one guy.”

“With mind control powers,” Rhodey reminds him dryly. “Very powerful mind control powers that he then made even more powerful.”

“I’m sorry, I believe JARVIS just scolded us into focusing?”

“I am so glad you are listening to me, Sir. It’s refreshing.”

“Yeah, maybe let’s reduce sassiness by a good twelve per cent there. So. We've got a supervillain with mind control and an affinity for purple that makes Barton’s look tame. We've got missing civilians. We know that said purple supervillain got to all the hostages at once. We know that all the CTV footage shorted out. We know—”

“It’s the radios.”

“I wasn’t finished.”

“Tony, it’s the radios.” Rhodey stomps the War Machine suit over to the nearest abandoned taxi, pointing at the dashboard. “Is that still playing, JARVIS?”

“I believe so.”

“What’s this believe business?” Tony interjects. “You’re an AI with access to the entire internet and several data banks that don’t want yours truly in there.”

“Whatever affected the cameras appears also to be affecting me. I am aware that the radio is playing, but the words are distorted.”

“But they can’t be distorted if people heard Kilgrave’s orders…” Tony trails off, “Ah, shit. So we can't listen to where Kilgrave told the hostages to go without falling under his control too. So we find a workaround. We’ve got, what, twenty minutes before whatever grand spectacle Kilgrave is trying to pull off? That’s time, we’ve got time.”

“Tony.”

Tony can’t see Rhodey’s face, but he can tell by the set of his shoulders that his friend is about to pull something Tony is not going to like. “Rhodes. We have time.”

“No, we don’t. We need to know where Kilgrave has the hostages, and we need to know right now. It’s hundreds of lives at risk.” Rhodey turns to face him. “Once I know where I’m going, all you have to do is follow me, and I’ll lead you right to them.”

“Yes, and you’ll be a magenta zombie. We’ll find another way.”

“No, we won’t. Not quickly enough.”

“Rhodey, once you’re under his control, I have no idea how to break you out of it.” Panic is rising, his mind racing as he tries to find any other path but this one. “He could make you do anything.”

“Well, you’ll just have to stop him and get me back then.”

“So, your plan is to be the damsel in distress until I can save you?”

“Well, generally as I’m the one doing the saving, I think that’s fair.”

“You’re the one doing the— what about Hammer? The Expo?”

“What about Afghanistan?”

“Um, I think you’ll find I saved myself.”

“And then you would have dehydrated to death unless I saved you.”

“The Expo was more recent so if we’re taking turns—”

“We save each other, how about that, does that sound okay to you? Tony,” Rhodey cuts him off when he goes to protest again. “I trust you to save me. And I’ll save you next time. We save each other.”

And he flips up his faceplate, letting Kilgrave’s voice in.

Tony’s protest dies on his lips as he sees Rhodey’s face go horribly blank. “Tell me what the radio is saying,” Tony demands. “Come on, just tell me where he’s telling you to go, then I can lock off the suit and you won’t be able to go anywhere, Rhodes—Rhodey!”

Rhodey doesn’t say a word. He just starts flying.

Tony swears, taking off after him. “The bad guys could make it easy just one time, is that so much to ask for?”

The flight is short, but Tony is still all too aware of the sinking sun. It glints off the War Machine suit as it begins to descend, touching down in what appears to be an abandoned quarry. Abandoned buildings surround the disrupted rock, towering above Tony as he lands behind Rhodey. “Heat signatures, J? J. JARVIS, come in?”

“I’m sorry…interference…War Machine…”

That’s as much warning Tony gets before Rhodey turns around and fires right into Tony’s chest.

The Iron Man suit is built for a lot, but an unexpected hit from his own team isn’t on the list. Tony finds himself catapulted backward, doing a not-so-elegant somersault along the dusty ground. “Ow. Uncalled for, Rhodes, even if you are—” He breaks off when he straightens up and sees the War Machine suit is empty. “Oh, shit.”

“Sir, I am receiving an incoming message.”

“Kilgrave sent a voice message? That can cause interference in you? Yeah, I’m not listening to that.”

“It is text-based. It should be safe for me to read it to you. It begins with: Look up.”

Dread pooling in his gut, Tony cranes his neck upwards just as the sun slips below the horizon. Floodlights burst to life around the quarry, and only the Iron Man helmet keeps Tony from being blinded. “Well. Guess we found the hostages.”

Hundreds of people line the roofs above him. They teeter on the edge, all staring eerily ahead, young, old, even some kids. And then, atop the building right in front him, now very much without a flying suit, is Rhodey.

I trust you to save me. And I’ll save you next time.

“Keep reading, J.”

“Know that the city is watching this live, Iron Man. Even your technology cannot save them all. Every day, you choose who lives and who dies, and they call you a hero regardless. Not today. Today, they will see how useless you really are.”

Tony bites his lip, feeling his heart pound. No one is dying today, that’s not an option. When people step forward, he’s not going to choose whether he catches Rhodey or the girl three hostages down from him who can’t be older than nine.

“But there’s a twist, Iron Man. My final order to them? To follow the next words out of your mouth.”

Tony stills, confused. “Keep reading, J.”

“Of course, I’ve laid some groundwork for how they might interpret your words. Tell them to leave the roof? They will jump. Tell them to delay? They will jump. Tell them in any way to save themselves, and they all jump. Say nothing—they jump. Good luck, Iron Man. You have ten seconds to decide what you would like to say.”

And then, as one, all the hostages swing one leg forward, balancing on one foot. Tony starts, ready to start flying and catching regardless, he at least has to save some of them, but they freeze in place. So the ten-second countdown is real, then.

“J, what do we do?”

“I’m calculating a flight path. You should at least be able to catch Colonel Rhodes and some of the children if I remotely pilot the War Machine suit.”

“And let hundreds of others die?” Not to mention that Rhodey would kill him if Tony chose to save him over innocent civilians. “So, my choices are to let people die, or…”

“Give a final order that makes them look like you made them jump yourself, which appears to be Kilgrave’s plan to turn the city against you. If you’re blamed for this—”

“They lock me up and Kilgrave gets free reign of the city, I get it.” Tony grits his teeth, forcing his brain into overdrive. There has to be a way out, there’s always a way out. “Put me on speaker, J. Make sure everyone can hear me.”

“Done.”

“Listen to me, you’re going to be okay,” Tony calls out, his voice echoing around the quarry. He’s speaking to everyone, but he fixates on Rhodey. No falls for his best friend today. He can do this. “You know the next order you have to follow is mine. But I can’t order you to save yourselves. And I can’t save all of you, either.”

That’s what we do—we save each other.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut, praying for this to work. “So if I can’t save you, and you can’t save yourselves, my order to you is this: save each other.”

As soon as he says the final word, every hostage is stepping forward. His time is up. They’re going to fall.

And then… movement. Not forward. Sideways. As the hostages reach out and grab each other, tugging their neighbors back onto the safety of the rooftops.

“Hey, J?” Tony is breathless, sinking to one knee with relief. “Any sign of Kilgrave in the area?”

“None, Sir, but we have citywide surveillance looking for him.”

“Turn on the speakers, then.” Sound floods back to him all at once. It’s loud and terrified and relieved all at once. Tony risks a look upwards, a smile curving his lips as he sees hundreds of strangers all hugging and celebrating the joys of being alive.

Rhodey disentangles himself from the crowd, yelling down something Tony can’t hear.

“Did you get that, JARVIS?”

“Colonel Rhodes is requesting that you, quote, hurry up and come and get him.”

A laugh bursts out of Tony, pure relief flooding him. “I just saved his ass, he can wait a damn minute.”

“I’m sure he will remember that the next time he saves you, Sir.”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. He doesn’t get a lot of good days. But today is one of them. “When he comes to save me next, I’m sure he will.”

#bad things happen bingo #bthb card #tony & rhodey #tony stark #james rhodey rhodes #mind control #kilgrave #based on an episode of Gotham I only half remember and COULD NOT FIND anywhere online #maybe I hallucinated it who knows #whump #whump prompt #hostage situations #rescue #self sacrifice #marvel #mcu #iron man

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uwmadarchives · 5 months

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The End of the Road

by Elisa Miller, Student Historian 2022/2024

Hello, hello! It’s hard to believe we’re past Thanksgiving, and I’m sure 2024 will be here before we know it. I’ve been incredibly lucky to work with the UW Archives over the last year and I’m sad to be saying goodbye to this position in the coming weeks. I had a last minute opportunity at the start of the semester to study abroad, so I’ll be participating in the Trinity College exchange program this spring. Unfortunately this meant my time as a student historian was cut short this year. The ever-supportive and flexible Cat was kind enough to give me the space and support to decide how I wanted to move forward. We ended up deciding on a semester-long project with me wrapping up my post at the end of the semester.

I spent the summer doing general research and thinking about potential topics for the year. I had wanted to continue working with the Asian American experience on campus. When the Supreme Court reversed Affirmative Action, it got me thinking about the admissions process for Asian Americans. My parents often joked that I should just put my ethnicity as caucasian while I was applying for schools because of the model-minority stigma against Asians in admissions. This idea was fascinating to me and I fell into a deep dive into UW admissions.

After some time in the archives and the UWDC, I realized I was hitting a wall due to the confidential nature of admissions. There was simply too much information I was never going to get access to, so I doubted I would be able to complete a full project on the topic. Then, I thought about taking my research and putting it towards an oral history project instead. This was a great workaround to my research block, as I could just speak directly to the sources. Troy and Cat agreed it was a good topic for oral history and, thus, I started on the process.

Having completed an oral history interview earlier this year, I felt relatively comfortable with the process. Of course, this would be more extensive than the one I did, so I spent some time refreshing myself on oral history and how to go about coordinating multiple interviews. Unfortunately, after weeks of work, I was unable to find enough participants to go through with the project. While I’m disappointed I won’t be able to continue working on this topic, I am still incredibly happy with the work I’ve done this semester.

Now, I’m looking at the end of the journey. It’s been a great one, and I’ve been so honored to share it with all of you. I have a few more things up my sleeve, so you may hear from me again about a more in-depth look into an unfulfilled project. Thanks for reading as always!

#uwmadison #uw-madison #archives #undergraduate research

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sucrosette · 4 months

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★— ⋆｡˚ [Things Missed]

For Day 26 of Carry on Countdown 23, Angst @carryon-countdown

Basil's finally ready to talk about the accident and Simon's there to listen, of course he is, he's not about to walk away.

Rated T for themes, language, & trauma talk.

This is part four of the Nurse/Lawyer AU. Just one more to go - I hope you enjoy. 🖤 [Part 1][Part 2][Part 3]

⋆｡˚ BAZ

Some days, I really miss the hours spent feeling my fingers stretched over the neck of my violin, plucking swiftly over the strings. I miss the feeling of the bowstrings reverberating noise under my strokes, the effortful, emotive playing that pushed me to sweat with effort. I even miss sitting my chin over the chinrest and just holding position in anticipation of playing.

I can still play, beautifully even, but I’m not the soloist I once was. I might have been playing sonatas in music halls across all of Europe at one point. I was good enough, I was more than good enough. I can’t do that now.

I usually manage ten to fifteen minutes before my bow hand starts shaking and my neck’s screaming for relief. Oh, there are workarounds, sure. I’ve tried the extended neck braces that eliminate the need for the chin rest. I’ve used the mobility bows that have the wrist straps, removing the need for my grip entirely. It’s just not the same though.

I had fifteen years of playing before the accident happened. It was a lifetime of habits I had needed to unlearn and repackage and… it’s not that I couldn’t have gotten to my old skill level with enough time, enough practice, but… I started to hate playing. I don’t want to hate playing, but every time I’d fuck up a simple chord progression or hit a note wrong or fumble due to relearning, that feeling would surge up inside of me. My body still wanted to play the way it knew best, and I still wanted to let it, and every time that urge clashed with the need to relearn it would put me back a whole day, sometimes more.

It hit a point where even just thinking about practicing would make me nauseous and angry, so I just stopped. I don’t want to hate playing. I love my violin. I focused on my physical therapy instead. I went to therapy. I got to the point where I am now and I changed course.

I switched to law school.

I cried a week over the decision and I had to speedrun undergrad but overall I’m better for it. I don’t hate my grandfather’s violin every time I look at it. I don’t feel frustrated just existing in a room with it. I don’t get jealous of other violinists who play half as well as I do for having just the slightest mobility advantage over me.

I can hold my bow again, position my violin and play my heart out for a full ten minutes without dropping anything or shaking and botching my play. I might not be able to do some of the more complicated pieces I once did, but what I can play, I play perfectly, just the way I remember, just the way I like. For ten whole minutes, it’s like I’m no different than I ever was, and I find that beauty I make in music and let my violin sing for me. She’s my oldest friend. I can’t hate her.

When Simon first hears me play, it’s a bit of an accident. I don’t really play for people anymore, since I can’t play long and sometimes I have to conclude a piece early when I start to feel my body react, so of course it’s a bit of an accident. It’s just my sisters I play for when I play for people now. Otherwise, it’s just me. I play alone and let myself have my memories of what once was and I put her down to reminisce another day. We share a peaceful relationship, an old friendship, but it’s not something I feel most people particularly need to witness. I aim to play alone.

It’s not that Simon doesn’t know I still play, he does, I’ve told him. Besides, she’s seen the violin, she’s seen me rosin the bow and tune my instrument. She got me a custom rosin case for it for my birthday, the very first we’d spent together— Simon is more than aware that I still play.

it just feels intimate in a way I haven’t quite been ready to share. Fifty-fifty odds I’ll cry at the end, or even halfway through. I like Simon seeing me strong, confident, and maybe a little cocky. I’ve been vulnerable, of course, I met him freshly stabbed and all, but this is a different thing.

So it’s a bit of an accident. Simon's been stateside for a friend’s wedding— she’d been her best mate in school— and I’m not expecting him home that day, let alone these ten minutes of the day I’ve chosen to play. I could've gone to the wedding with him, but I thought maybe meeting someone the week of their wedding might be a bit presumptive of me, especially with our relationship being fairly recent. Besides, the caseload at work’s been busy and I’d’ve had to fly separately, Simon's invested in his tickets an era ago and I don’t particularly want to fly over the Atlantic alone. I’ve offered to take Penny and her husband-to-be on a cruise together at some later date and we can get to know each other then, when they’re not so busy with pre-wedding and during-wedding and post-wedding.

Simon tumbles through the door about two minutes after I’ve started but I don’t hear him. He’s still at the door when I finish. Thirteen minutes later. I can feel my hand aching a little but my neck’s doing alright, so I’ll take that as a good day. I blink over at Simon, realizing he’s really there as I carefully settle my violin back into her stand.

“You play beautifully,” Simon says as she closes the door, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I blink back the way ears in my eyes. It takes me a minute to find my words, but I shake my head to tell him that he hadn’t. I find my confidence and breath and ultimately find it’s not uncomfortable for me to have Simon seeing me play. That’s a relief. Unsurprising, ultimately, but no less a relief. “You’re early?”

“Ah, yeah,” Simon answers as she kicks off her shoes. I’m already moving to help with his bags while he explains, “Pen’s already on honeymoon and originally I’d wanted to stay over to see some sights but I just missed you so I checked to see if I could catch an earlier flight and here I am.” She does a silly little wave of her hands and it makes me impossibly bloody fond.

“You missed me that much?” There’s a touch of teasing there and Simon punches my arm for it, but he doesn’t use any strength to do it, and just sort of scrunches his nose in annoyance.

“Of bloody course I did, you prick. It’s been a whole week already…”

I hum as I follow Simon to our room, helping him unpack when we get there. I pause to nudge his side and when he turns my way I catch him in a kiss. “I missed you too.”

It’s an easy admission. “Of course you did,” Simon says it like it’s obvious.

it is obvious.

We work through unpacking him in relative silence, a companionable quiet that tells me both how tired he is and how happy he is just to be home. I’ll ask him all about everything after he’s gotten some sleep in him, reset properly from the jetlag over some food. I’m just as happy to have Simon home again too. I missed existing with her the last week.

“I’ll let you hear me play again,” I say apropos of nothing, except I can still hear those words in my head. You play beautifully.

I know I do. Or I knew I did.

The declaration stops Simon midway from tossing his dirty wash in our hamper, but only for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, whenever I play next.” It’ll be tomorrow. I play almost every day, so long as it’s not a snow day.

“I’d like that,” He answers with a soft smile, “I’d like it a lot.”

I love this about Simon. He’s just so bloody understanding. I don’t understand how he doesn’t press or complicate or assume anything. We just finish getting through his unpacking and collapse into our bed and cuddle close.

I think he’s fallen asleep already when his voice catches me off guard, but maybe I’d been the one closer to sleep. “Are you gonna tell me about it?”

“Not tonight,” I know exactly what he means without asking, “But soon, probably. After you tell me all about how the wedding went.”

Simon hums and snuggles in closer and I melt around him, letting myself relax with him, letting myself feel how much I missed him. I can feel Simon melting in my arms too. I’m too tired for anything else, he’s too tired for anything else, and it’s so bloody easy for us to fall asleep like that, tangled up in one another.

⋆｡˚ SIMON

He doesn’t tell me the next morning, not after all the talking I can manage on Pen’s ceremony and dress and everything. It’s a lazy morning. He called in to work from home (“No court days?” “No court days.”) and we slept in and stayed in bed hours longer and I still had three whole more days off work. I’m not in any rush to find out, I’m just happy I’ve gotten to hear him play now.

I ramble on and on about the States and everything that I’d missed about home and weird little language differences and all the things Pen had gone on about herself during our downtime. I think Baz might know her better than he thinks with how much I talk about her, but I’m not mad he didn’t come with me. I just missed him.

I don’t ask. I don’t need to ask. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

I’m happy to linger in lazy mornings like this forever, if he’ll be here with me for them.

⋆｡˚ BAZ

I keep thinking I’m going to tell her, and then I don’t. I keep thinking I should bring it up, but then I don’t. It’s just such a bloody happy day and I’m such a greedy, selfish sap. I want to keep it a happy day. We deserve more happy, lazy days.

I do play my violin for him, just like I’d said I would. I only just make it through about eight minutes today, but Simon smiles so beautifully for such a simple piece.

I’m going to tell him, I know it, just not today. Today I want to keep his smile just like it was when he woke up, refreshed and comfortable after a week out of our bed. I want to keep her just like this forever.

⋆｡˚ SIMON

It’s about two weeks later when Basil wakes up in a cold sweat next to me. It’s not the first time I’ve witnessed his night terrors, we’ve lived together far too long by now for me not to be at least a little familiar with them, but normally he goes through the motions quickly enough that I barely have time to comfort at all. This time must’ve been particularly visceral. I sit up beside him and he still hasn’t budged an inch, except to curl in on himself. I touch carefully, brushing my fingers through his thick, dark hair, brushing his bangs aside so they don’t stick to his sweat-slick skin and hum.

I hum whatever he’d played me last. Something by Bach, I think, but I’m not good at classical music. I am learning, a little, but I still can’t tell Beethoven from the Greatest Showman and apparently the latter is a musical, not a classical composition. I’m learning. Baz smiles whenever I get something right.

He unwinds enough to roll himself over and into my arms and I wrap him up like I’m a security blanket made just for him.

“Bloody nightmares…” His voice comes out in rasp, dry and angry, but I don’t push, I just hold him like that until he stops shaking, until his breathing settles out against my chest.

I glance at the clock. Twelve more hours till work. I can nap after this all settles if I need more sleep. I have time. “Think you can sleep again?” I ask it as gently as I can manage.

Baz shakes his head against my chest, but it’s alright, I just keep humming while he sinks deeper into my arms and the tangle of blankets around us. If there was less time, I’d even call out, but there’s plenty of time.

“I think I want to talk about it.”

⋆｡˚ BAZ

I’ve surprised him, I can tell. His mouth is doing that little ‘oh’ thing that she only does when she’s caught off guard. Maybe that’s fair, I haven’t talked about for long enough that maybe she was never truly expecting me to, but I have wanted to.

⋆｡˚ SIMON

He presses a kiss to the hollow of my throat and it brings me back to my senses enough to encourage him to keep going. “If you’re ready.”

Basil hums again and nods along, “I’m ready.”

I press a kiss to his temple and wait. I have time. I can always wait where Baz is concerned, but he doesn’t make me wait long. It spills out in chunks, but I fill in the blanks well enough. Trauma’s like that, I know, sometimes memories just don’t come back clean.

⋆｡˚ BAZ

I was twenty when it happened. It was winter break and I was driving back home for the holidays. The road had been slick from the storm but it was only a four hour drive, a little longer if I went easy, and I always go easy when I need to. So I’m headed home and thinking about what to get my sisters in the meanwhile and not at all worried about the process of getting there.

Of course, it was never me I had to worry about. A truck twice the size of my little Beetle comes hurtling down the opposite side of the road at a good twice my speed. It must’ve started hydroplaning at the exact right moment to cause him to swerve right into me.

There’s no time to react, no time to brake or swerve or anything at all.

There’s only the truck’s blinding headlights on a collision course straight for me.

I can still feel the hear the sound of the metal crunching together in front of me. I can still feel the pressure of the airbag going off against my face, against my hands. The way my arm had hit the center dash and turned blue almost immediately. The whiplash from my head flinging back so suddenly, the wrongness in my neck.

Simon’s petting through my hair as he listens to me, taking everything in, kissing my forehead again, and then pulling back enough to pull my hands up to kiss them too. She’s patient through it all and it’s not until the lull in my story that I realize I’ve been crying. Just a little. Just quietly while I go through it.

I lose myself in the realization for a moment, thoughts dissipating into nothing. I’m not sure where I was in the story, or where to pick up, it’s just all sort of a blur anyway. I let myself have my tears about and Simon, my sweet Simon, kisses my tears away and holds me closer through it.

“Is that what your nightmares are about?” Simon asks when my tears start to slow and I’ve worked myself further out of that ball of stress.

“No,” I answer, and it feels a bit silly, but also not at all. “My nightmares are… they’re about the first time I picked up my grandfather’s violin, after I’d supposedly healed enough to try again, and I dropped it.”

⋆｡˚ SIMON

Baz chokes when he confesses it, loses his voice halfway through the word dropped, but his mouth still forms the word it. My skill in lipreading fills in that blank too. “You don’t have to say more if you don’t want to, you know. It’s okay to be done talking.”

He hums low and shifts our hold so he’s more holding me now, wrapping his legs around mine and practically clinging. I don’t bother to resist. I don’t mind comforting him like this either. It’s plenty comfortable in Baz’s arms too.

“I don’t think there’s much else to say,” Baz breathes out when he finds his voice again, “If there is I can’t recall right now.”

I nuzzle his chest and tangle us up that much more thoroughly. “It’s alright, love… if you want to talk more later, I’m always here for you, alright?”

“Alright.”

“I love you.”

⋆｡˚ BAZ

Simon quiets in my arms after that and I can feel my exhaustion creeping up again. I press a kiss to her temple and let my thoughts drift away from my nightmares, from my spotty memories, from the little Volvo I had once loved so much. I suppose it saved my life that day, gave it’s own for me. If cars have souls, I hope it's thriving somewhere.

I let myself drift to thoughts of Simon, of our life. Of the time we’ve had together so far, of the time we’re going to have together. I think of his soft hair and softer marshmallow scent. I thought it was a perfume or cologne at first, but no. That’s just Simon, sugary sweet.

“Hey, Simon?”

She murmurs her own soft, unintelligible acknowledgment against my chest and I can tell from the weight of him that she’s drifting back off already.

“Thank you,” I say into the mess of her hair and she makes a happy little noise. Her own of course, anytime, always, without the mess of words. She makes me so bloody soft, so bloody comfortable. “I love you too.”

Simon’s little noise repeats itself and I can feel a smile crack my lips, just a little bit even after all the emotions thinking about the accident can give me.

“Rest well, love,” my words fall soft and Simon’s already gone, and I think I can manage the same. I think, probably, without dreaming terrible things all over again.

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #there's more of this to be posted #Bigender Nurse Simon Snow (He/She)#Lawyer Baz Pitch #soft snowbaz #emotional hurt/comfort #tw: car accident #alternating pov

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