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grandlinedreams · 3 months

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would you ever consider doing AS!reader with azriel about them having their first child? just all the angst and fear of it and poor azriel worrying? luv luv luv your writing!

Hiya!! I actually had been playing around w the idea of it so I hope this is to your liking!!

|| [AS!reader masterlist]

|| warnings: pregnant!reader, Azriel being rightfully worried, brief description of childbirth

You don't feel right.

Part of you wants to blame it on the fact that your mate hasn't been home the last couple of days. Away to perform his duties as Spymaster for Rhysand, you've felt Azriel's absence more intensely with the emptiness of the bed and nothing to soothe you but the answering tug on the bond.

But it isn't just him being away that has you unsettled ㅡ it's also the scent that's joined yours. Softer and sweeter, it's just an undertone ㅡ but it's enough to have you seeking out Madja for a proper answer, worried that you've caught some strange illness. But part of you knows the answer before she even confirms it ㅡ you're pregnant.

Part of you is over the moon, elated to be carrying your mate's child ㅡ but the fact that you still have to tell him tempers some of your excitement. Given that the two of you are recently mated, the conversation of children hadn't come up yet ㅡ and now it needs to.

Azriel is tired.

You can tell from the set of his shoulders, the way his wings are held just enough to keep them from dragging on the floor ㅡ so when he quietly sinks onto the bed and pulls you to him, you let him.

Azriel splays you over him, arms wound around you as his face meets your neck, sighing as you drag your fingers through his hair. "You can go to sleep, you know."

His grip tightens on you. "Want to spend time with you," he mumbles, pressing further against your neck. "You smell good."

You hum as he inhales, letting your scent sweep over him ㅡ and when he stills, you know he's noticed the change to it. Your heart hammers, but you keep combing your fingers through his hair. "You'reㅡ"

"I am." You play with a dark curl. "Madja confirmed it. I know we hadn't talked about having kids, and I don't even know if you want themㅡ"

"I want them." Azriel's voice is quiet, lips brushing against your skin. "I want them with you, but..." His grip tightens again, unspoken worry igniting ㅡ for both you and the baby growing in your womb.

Because he's Illyrian, and you're not. And with the way Feyre had struggled with Nyx, if your baby has wings...

Your lips meet the top of his head, trying to soothe the fizz of worry that ignites on his side of the bond. "We'll figure it out," you say softly. "Just take it one day at a time, okay?"

Azriel exhales. "Okay."

Azriel watches your body change. The scent that grows stronger as your stomach swells with the growth of the baby inside you. Paranoia has him adamant that he accompany you to every check in with Madja ㅡ even more so when you learn that the baby does indeed have wings.

Azriel had been protective before, but it's in overdrive now. If he can't physically be with you, one of his shadows is ㅡ curling against your stomach in a gentle caress before looping around your arm as a band of inky black.

He's gentle when he touches you, afraid that you'll break ㅡ and all you do is watch as he monitors the way the baby kicks against his hand.

"I hope our daughter knows how loved she already is," you murmur, and it takes Azriel a minute to register your words before he looks up at you.

"Daughter?" He echoes hoarsely. "We're having a girl?"

You nod. "I hope that's okay," you say, and then Azriel is moving up so that he can kiss you, the intensity of his mouth against yours and protective hand against your belly letting you know that it's more than okay.

Your daughter is born early.

It makes him worry something is wrong ㅡ but she's a fighter, and Azriel thinks that his heart might truly shatter as he listens to the pained noises that you make in the throes of labor.

Sweat plasters your hair to your face, turns your skin blotchy with the effort of pushing the baby out ㅡ but you're still the most beautiful thing in the world to Azriel.

Even more so for the way your face lights up as the newborn is placed against your chest. Tiny but all together perfect even for arriving weeks before she should have, he watches as you kiss the head of fine, dark hair and stroke a finger against her cheek, evoking the barely there twitch of those little wings folded against her back.

It hits him all at once. Azriel is a father now. You're a mother. You have a child. Half you, half him ㅡ your daughter, who watches him with little eyes the color of yours as he murmurs softly, "Welcome to the world, little one. I'm your dad."

#ㅡmine.#ㅡanswered.#acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #az x reader

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wandering-winchesters · 1 year

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Who Did This To You?

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 4,077 (Oops) Summary: Sam and the reader are close friends, Dean on the other hand is kept at a distance. The reader has a boyfriend, who turns out to be abusive. What will happen when Dean finds out? Trigger Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, bruises and brief mention of blood. Requested: No, just something I thought up. A/N: I am really happy with how this turned out, please let me know what you think. <3

Masterlist

I press the accelerator down further, hot tears brimming in my eyes, frantic to get back to the bunker. Back to safety and Sam. I need to talk to Sam, he always knows how to calm me down. My boyfriend, Chris and I had fought tonight and it had been bad, he had gotten in my face and screamed at me over the smallest thing. I put up with it for almost an hour, before I got up and left. What had started out as utter rage had slowly turned to gut wrenching sobs throughout the long drive home. I pull into the driveway for the bunker, parking next to the Impala and quickly making the walk from the car to the door. I unlock it quickly slipping inside, I kick my boots off at the front door and head to the kitchen hoping to find Sam. Much to my dismay, the face looking back at me is indeed not Sam, but the other Winchester, Dean. He looks up at me, his eyes searching my face and his brows drawing together when he notices my expression and the tears on my cheeks. I sniff, quickly wiping them away but it’s too late, he’s already seen them.

“Where’s Sam?” I ask, drawing on every ounce of strength within in me to keep my wits about me for a few more minutes. Dean takes his time to answer, taking a sip from the beer he is holding as he studies me carefully. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, waiting anxiously for his reply.

“He went out for a bit, said he needed to get out of the bunker. Can’t say I blame him.” He says, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily before taking another sip of his beer. I give Dean a short nod and mutter a thanks before turning on my heel, intent upon heading straight to my room but his voice stops me once again.

“You’ve been crying.” He states, matter-of-factly. I freeze in my tracks, weighing my next options carefully. Why does he care? He’s seen me cry before and it hasn’t exactly made him kinder to me. I square my shoulders and turn around to face him once again, his eyes still locked on me. He looks as if he is carefully analyzing my every move, every breath I take and every word that I speak. He’s leaning against the counter top, one leg bent resting on the cabinet behind him. His arms crossed across his chest, supporting the hand that’s holding his beer.

“Why do you care?” I ask, my voice a bit more volatile than I initially intended. I am too tired to put effort into being nice to him, a sentiment that he rarely ever gives to me. He is slightly taken aback by my words, a fact made obvious by the way he holds his hands up to the side, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“Just thought you might want to talk about it, since Sam isn’t here.” He replies, his tone soft and gentle, something I’d never received from him before. It wasn’t like we were enemies or anything, but he didn’t particularly care for me and I shared the same sentiment about him. We butted heads over everything, he always tried to hold me back on hunts, making me feel incapable and inferior.

“Ill be fine.” I mutter, moving to walk away once again, and once again he stops me his words cutting through me like a silver knife.

“Did he hurt you?” He asks, his voice unreadable, but his face screams danger, depending on my answer. I look at him, my eyes searching his face for any explanation of where this was coming from, but he’s impassive other than anger. I don’t trust my voice, so I shake my head no. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he hadn’t physically hurt me, he didn’t need to his verbal threats were enough.

“I’m just going to go to bed. Thanks anyways.” I say and he nods slightly but he’s not fooled. I turn and actually walk away this time and make it to my room before my tears start to fall again. I sit down on the edge of my bed pulling my phone out of my pocket, intending to send Sam a text, but I am distracted by the multiple messages flooding the screen. Beginning with anger and threats, before changing to apologies and begging for my forgiveness. I toss my phone onto the floor, too tired to deal with the nonsense tonight. The interaction with Dean replays in my head, his kindness strange and cause for reflection. It isn’t as if he was ever a complete asshole to me, but he was never fond of me. I had always been Sam’s friend and Dean just put up with my presence. Neither one of them ever intended for me to start hunting with them, it was a matter of wrong place wrong time. Sam and I had met in college and I went looking for him when he disappeared from classes, the week I found him happened to be when the yellow eyed demon came calling a few years ago, and I had stuck with them ever since. Intent upon learning everything I could about the supernatural. Sam had welcomed me in with open arms and Dean had been dragged along kicking and screaming, metaphorically speaking. Well, mostly metaphorically, he did a lot of yelling. So the concern Dean had for me tonight, was well concerning. It was throwing me for a bit of a loop, curiosity sparking within me. Did he actually care about me and his disdain for me was just a front? No, surely not. I had been with them for three years and this was an utter first. I brush the thoughts aside and close my eyes, hoping that sleep will over take me. Hours later, it finally does.

I wake to knocking on my door, I yell out a muffled come in, and Sam sticks his head in, his expression apologetic.

“Hey sorry to wake you, I am about to head out but I wanted to check in on you before I do. Dean said you were upset and looking for me last night, you could’ve called me Y/N, I would have come back earlier.” I had sat up in bed to look at him and he had opened my door the rest of the way. I smiled softly at the tall man standing in front of me, his hair messy and the collar on his flannel offset.

“Its okay Sammy, you have a good night out?” I ask and he grins sheepishly, nodding his head in response.

“Yeah, actually, I met a girl at the bar. I am heading back to her place now actually. You doing okay?” He asks me, his smile contagious. I chuckle, shaking my head slightly, but smile back at him.

“Yeah I am good, go get ‘em tiger.” He laughs at my response, and jogs off down the hallway yelling a see you later over his shoulder. He had forgotten to shut my door behind him, I sigh throwing my blankets to the side and standing up beside my bed.

I stretch my body, groaning slightly as the tension in my shoulders works it way out. I throw on the jeans I had worn yesterday, before finding a new shirt to wear, I settle on my favorite green tee, a memento from my college years. I pick my phone up from the floor, scanning the mass of texts and calls all from one person. Before sending him a quick message,

8:33 A.M. I’ll be over shortly, I just woke up.

I take a deep breath and grab my keys from my dresser and head towards the entry to the bunker. Dean is in the kitchen again, this time making himself breakfast. He gives me a slight smile as I walk past him towards the door. I smile back but keep on my path to my boots, still left haphazardly by the door where I had tossed them last night. “Need breakfast?” Dean calls from the behind me, I look back over my shoulder and see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, skillet in one hand, towel in the other.

“Not hungry, thanks though. I’ll be back later!” I say, beginning to head out the door to the bunker. I hear him call out something along the lines of ‘be careful’ but I don’t stop to question it, our interaction from last night still weirding me out.

In hindsight, I should’ve gone back inside this morning. Had breakfast with Dean and ignored Chris’ frenzy of messages. Going over his place this morning was probably the worst idea I have ever had, it hadn’t gone well, worse than I had ever imagined. His messages to me last night and this morning had me convinced that he would apologize for his actions and yet that is the farthest thing from what happened. By the time I had gotten there, he had switched from apologetic to angry again. Instead of his words, he let his fists do the talking. The first time catching me so off guard it knocked me off my feet successfully splitting my lip, the second time I had dodged his blow, stepping out of his reach and yelling at him to keep his hands off of me and trying to leave. But the third. The third landed square on my jaw, knocking me unconscious.

I had come to from Chris shaking me and crying apologies. His touch sending waves of nausea through me, revolted by the thought of him. Glancing at my reflection in the surface of his coffee table I noticed the rapidly forming bruise. A mark that would serve as a vivid reminder of his actions and my inability of acting like a good, obedient girlfriend. Or so he said, after spending the morning accusing me of cheating on him with Sam. No matter what I said, it wasn’t enough to convince him that we were just friends and he had just lost it on me. I had left in a rush when he went to the bathroom, leaving everything but my phone and my keys behind on his couch. The ache in my body spurring me to move faster out of his place and into the safety of my car. The seconds it took me to get from his living room to the drivers seat, felt like an eternity. I had driven as fast as I dared back to the bunker, checking my rear view mirror constantly watching and waiting for him to appear behind me, but he didn’t. So here I sit, outside the bunker, debating the best way to get into my room without someone noticing the bruises still forming on my face. Not wanting the attention or, more likely the “I told you so’s” from Dean. I grabbed the hat from my passenger seat, tugging it low over my face. I rearrange my hair, framing it around my face in such a way that it covers as much of my jaw as it can. I take a deep breath and exit my vehicle, taking the few steps required into the bunker.

I shut the door as quietly as I can, taking soft steps towards my room. I hope to make it into the safety and silence of my room without anyone noticing, I am not even sure who is home at this time but I don’t want to see either of them. I had nearly reached the safety of my space, but I head Dean’s door swing open behind me.

“Y/N, you’re home sooner than I expected. Sam isn’t back yet.” He says and I freeze in my tracks, praying he doesn’t continue the conversation.

“Okay, thanks!” I say, my voice coming out shrill and unsteady, the opposite of what I was trying to sound like. I hear him move to close his door, but he hesitates and I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of my head.

“What happened to your jeans? Why is there blood on them?” He asks, and I internally curse myself out for my stupidity. I had wiped my hand across my thigh after wiping the blood off my busted lip. I must have taken too long to give him an answer, because I hear him moving closer to me and I close my eyes waiting for the moment that I had hoped to avoid. “Y/N, look at me.” He says and I can feel him ever so close to me. I turn around, keeping my eyes trained on the ground and my face angled away from him. He reaches out and gently grabs my chin, pulling it towards him so he can see me. I bite my tongue to keep the slight gasp from slipping past, his touch on my bruised jaw causing a ripple of pain to travel throughout my nerves, but he notices and his touch lightens. The opposite of his face, his expression darkens, eyes traveling over my skin. His other hand comes up and pulls my baseball hat off my head, revealing all of the color spreading through my skin, reds and purples mainly at this point in time.

“Who did this to you?” He growls, not waiting for a response his hand drops to my wrist and tugs me behind him. I follow his lead back towards the kitchen, when we get there he points to the counter muttering one word through his angry stupor, “Sit.” I don’t, but he doesn’t notice immediately, his attention turning to something else. He walks over to the freezer and digs out the ice packs that we kept frozen for any injuries that might surface.

When he turns around, his eyes are trained on me, a scowl engrained in his features. He sets the icepack down, before he turns to me, grabs my waist and lifts me up onto the countertop. I am caught off guard by his actions, a gasp leaving my lips from his sudden movements. His hands on my hips the most amount of physical touch that has ever been shared between the two of us.

I train my eyes to the floor, not daring to meet his gaze. He had stepped away again, digging through the cabinets for what I think is the first aid kit. I begin to let my thoughts wander, the dull ache in my jaw pulling me back to the moment that it happened. The pure evil hidden behind his eyes, the look of absolute enjoyment he had as he watched me struggle, his hands rough and violent against my body. But I am snapped back to reality by Dean’s gentle touch, his fingertips gingerly raising my chin to look at him. Tears are beginning to form in my eyes, adrenaline wearing off and emotion taking back over. I take a deep breath, hating the way my lip quivers, still dreading showing weakness to the older Winchester. He notices, he notices all of it, but he doesn’t say anything. He gently wipes away my tears and brings a cold cloth to my lip, cleaning up the cut from the first punch. I can feel anger radiating off of his skin, even though his touch is displaying the complete opposite.

“Did Chris do this?” He asks, his attention moving from the split in my lip to the gash on my forehead. I hiss as he wipes it clean, an antiseptic wipe pinched between his fingers, he mutters a slight apology, but continues patching me up.

“Yeah, he did. He lost it on me this morning, over nothing. It’s my fault though, I ignored all of his messages after I came home last night, so he was angry.” Dean freezes, his fingers stilling on my skin. I look up at him, confused as to why he stopped and I notice his jaw is clenched so tight that it has to be painful.

“Don’t ever say those words again, you hear me?” He locks his eyes on mine, fury absolutely radiating off of every inch of his body. “None of this, none, is your fault, you got it?” His words are sharp and pointed, his intent clear. I nod in response, he obviously didn’t want to hear anymore, got it. I would keep my mouth shut.

He continues patching me up, before he stills, looking me over from head to toe once more. He hands me the ice-pack he had laid out and instructs me to keep it on my jaw. He turns his back to me and washes his hands in the kitchen sink.

“Where does the fucker live?” He asks, his voice low and so calm that it scares me slightly.

“Why Dean?” This is when he snaps, the anger that has been coursing through him coming out in one big tsunami of a wave, now that he knows I am okay.

“Because I am going to go beat the absolute hell out of him, show him a bit of his own medicine.” He says, each word leaving his lips like a bullet leaving a gun. Dangerous and aimed at one specific target.

I sit quietly, unsure how to respond.

“Why? I didn’t think you’d care this much, figured-“

“Oh for fucks sake!” He interrupts me and I jump from the sheer volume of his voice, he walks back over to me and stands directly in between my knees, he rests his hands on my thighs and his eyes meet my own once again.

“I have always cared about you Y/N, from that day you showed up at our motel. Your search for Sam finally at an end. I have watched you let men into your life that don’t give two shits about you, I have watched how they treated you and I have hated every single one. None of them deserve you, they are all pitiful excuses for boyfriends. I heard you crying to Sam, each time one of them broke your heart and I had to sit back and not do anything about it. You deserve more than anyone can give you, including myself. Which is why I never said anything, I kept you at a distance. I can’t do that anymore, I can’t keep watching you put yourself into these situations. God, if you hadn’t left, he could have killed you. Probably would have killed you, and then I never would have been able to tell you that I-, that I love you.” He says, his voice growing less angry after each word leaves his mouth. My brain is spinning by the end of his speech, his words swirling around my head making me dizzy. He squeezes my leg gently, causing me to snap back to reality once again.

I blink at him, once, twice, three times before his words finally settle over me and I am completely speechless. I never saw this coming, I admit I have feelings for him, but I had pushed them so far away because of his hatred for me.

“Dean, I-I don’t know what to say. I always thought you hated me, so I supressed my feelings for you, I dated other men because I thought you would never want anything to do with me. I’m sorry, that I hurt you. I love you too.” I whisper, my hands coming to rest on top of his. He tugs me towards him, his fingers digging into my hips and sliding me across the counter into his embrace.

“God, Y/N, I am so sorry he did this to you. He will never lay a finger on you again, I promise.” He says, his voice barely registering because of how quiet he is speaking. I can hear how close he is to tears, but don’t mention it to him. I hug him back and relish the way his touch makes me feel. How safe I am in his presence, every fear melting away.

I hear the door to the bunker open and Sam calls out a greeting. Dean pulls away from me slightly, but keeps his hand resting on my thigh.

“In the kitchen Sammy.” He calls out, and gently squeezes my leg in reassurance.

Sam rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes locking on my bruised face and anger quickly replaces the initial shock.

I look away from him, shame creeping over me. I put myself into the situation and this was the outcome, now both of them are aware of what I got myself into and it is crashing down on me in waves. I hear Dean talking to Sam, explaining everything that had happened. By the end of it, both boys were rearing to go track him down and give him a taste of his own medicine, or worse. Little did we all know, they were about to get their chance and they wouldn’t even have to leave the bunker.

A knock sounds at the door and Sam trails off mid sentence, glancing between Dean and myself, an obvious attempting at asking if we were expecting someone. Neither of us were, and suddenly it hit me. He’s here, he had followed me. My heart is in my throat, my breathing is heightened and shallow. My eyes meet Deans and he knows exactly what I am thinking. “Stay here, sweetheart. Sam, let’s go.” He says, giving me one last look before the two of them walk out of the room and towards the source of the incessant knocking. I don’t listen however, I slide down off the counter and hurry after them. Not wanting to be left alone and waiting to find out the outcome of this visit. Dean throws open the door to the bunker, immediately grabbing my now ex-boyfriend by the collar of his shirt and pushing him backwards away from the entrance. Sam is quick to step outside next to Dean, the boys creating a wall between me and Chris. Dean withholds the fury of his fist and issues quite a few colorful threats, instilling a healthy fear into Chris. He pulls him up by his shirt again and shoves him towards his car. They stand, watching him leave before turning and heading back into the bunker. Sam is quick to be by my side, pulling me into a hug. Apologies flying from his lips. I reassure him that I am okay, my eyes remaining locked on Dean. Hoping that the moment that we had shared wasn’t a one time thing, dying to once again be in his arms.

I excuse myself from the two of them, heading to the bathroom to clear my head. I spend a few minutes in there, my hands gripping the edge of the sink. Taking breath, after breath, trying to pull myself together. The whirlwind of a day, completely blindsiding me. I open the door to the bathroom and scan the hallway, empty. I take a chance and cross the hall towards Dean’s room. Knocking on the door and being beckoned in by his voice on the other side of the door.

I open the door and cross the threshold, closing the door quietly behind me. His eyes are on me immediately and I stare back at him, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. Four words hang heavy in my throat, fear of rejection constricting my voice. I clear my throat and finally utter the words I had been thinking.

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course I did, Y/N. I will always mean it.” He whispers, and that is all it takes for me to cross the room and throw my arms around him. He immediately hugs me back, tugging me as close to him as physically possible. His lips press against my forehead, sending shivers down my spine. The warmth his body provides is all consuming and like heaven on earth. A feeling that I had never had before, it was clear that this was where I was meant to be.

“I will always keep you safe Y/N, I promise you that. I love you.” Dean says, his lips brushing against my skin as he speaks. I knew he meant it with all of his heart and that was more than enough for me.

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octuscle · 7 months

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Hey there! I work as a therapist and a few of us were starting to think of the clinical applications of chronivac. We were wondering if you wanted to work together to develop some presets that our clients could use to de-stress and take a break from their stressful lives. I know we have one stressed out university student who could benefit from something like this.

At Chronivac, we are always interested in collaborating with research institutions. After all, Chronivac is not used just to have fun. It is already being used for the treatment of various physical illnesses and also for resocialization projects. The use in the psychotherapeutic field would be new, but sounds interesting according to the research and development department. If the student they are talking about is available as a guinea pig, perhaps send us a requirements profile for a transformation. And we'll see what we can do….

Research Diary Timothy Walker

Day One: My psychotherapist tells me that my burn-out syndrome has progressed to the point that continuing my business studies is out of the question at this point. In fact, I am having a hard time concentrating. Writing this report is causing me great difficulty; my attention span is only a few minutes. Therefore, an experimental therapy has been decided with the psychology faculty, which is connected with a semester off for me. Under certain circumstances, the semester can be counted as an internship. Everything is fine with me. I am just tired. The work on the research diary was exhausting for me. I need to lie down.

Second day: I slept very well. No wild nightmares as usual. I woke up briefly once or twice at most, but went right back to sleep. Michael, who is in charge of the project as pysiotherapist, thinks that this would be a good starting point to work on my physical fitness. We both went running for an hour. I'm exhausted, I haven't moved that much since I started studying. But I feel good. Made myself a real breakfast for the first time in months according to my new nutrition plan. I'm supposed to spend the rest of the day walking on the beach. Let's see if that clears my head.

Third day: Before Michael came for the training session, I was already in the gym for an hour. I'm really enjoying the physical activity. The beach walk yesterday was great. And Michael was thrilled to see the progress I'm making in terms of fitness. Had the first session with my creativity coach today. Seems a little silly to me. But imagining what I would be doing if I weren't studying business was fun. But I have to admit, my head isn't really getting creative yet. At least writing the diary is already much easier for me.

Day four: I need new challenges. The beach run with Mike is fun, but it's not a sport. That's warming up. We discussed that I would go running alone for an hour tomorrow and that we would meet in the gym of the therapy center. I'm supposed to come without a T-shirt. Mike wants me to learn to love my body. To be honest, I already do. I've already jerked off twice today. And think about sex a lot more than usual. Mike also comes in the process. My creative trainer is also quite cute, but he's too skinny for me. I like men who have a lot of muscle on them.

Fifth day: Fuck, the workout with Mike is awesome! I love the gym from the first minute. Yes, the beach feels my home. But the gym is the place that prepares me for that home. Working out shirtless makes the workout even more intense. i can't get enough of Mike's and my sweat beading on our pecs. But I'm so horny. All the time. During the creative training with Kev it just bubbled out of me today. I would so love to be a lifeguard. Maybe not all the time. But on vacation. And on the weekends. The idea made me even hornier. Poor Kev. He's not my type, but I had to nail him during practice. No idea when I last had sex. but this first time in a long time was incredibly intense. Thank God Kev felt the same way….

Day six: Today is uh free day at da therapy center. Mike n kev are already down at da beach, I wanted to pump up da muscles beforehand. I'm looking forward to da sea n da sand. Both make my head so free. Although I wouldn't feel like my head wuz overly full right now anyway. Pumping, fucking, jogging n swimming. That's really all I'm thinking about right now. Kevin says that I certainly wouldn't have to worry about da practical entrance exams for lifeguards. But I shouldn't underestimate da theory. Shit, studying sucks. But I guess it haz to be.

Day seven: I like it when I have da early shift. Da routine of opening da station is relaxing, da beach is still quiet, da few guests are usually relaxed n in uh gud mood. Wuz one of da best ideas of my life to take uh semester off n work as uh lifeguard. My pal mikey told me to lay off this crappy journal. Somehow I thought it wuz important until now. I can't remember why, either. Anyway. Da main thing is that da surf is gud. Den you can have some fun with da surfers afta work. Hehehehe…

#male tf #muscle tf #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #surfer tf

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cinnamonwhisp · 8 days

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If chronic illness is mental, why do I get physical symptoms Doctor?

I have a flare up. I am told to go on a walk and eat healthily because it’s my anxiety making it worse. I get told to go on a walk to watch my weight - If I lose some I’ll be better. Ignore the fact I push to go to the gym twice a week.

Halfway through the little walk I am shaking, full blown fever, and puking my guts up into the bushes. Yet my flare ups are just mental? It’s just my autism and anxiety?

It doesn’t feel mental when I’m sat on the pavement waiting to stop shaking and being dizzy so I can try to go home. But fuck if I know anything.

I wouldn’t even be that bothered but I’m So so tired of being told if I lose weight my chronic illness will disappear. I’m trying to be physical but when I’m flared up all I can do is sleep and try to exist.

Fuck. I’m so tired.

I just wanna know if there’s anything I can actually do to make this a little less hard.

#tw chronic illness #tw chronic pain #chronic illness #chronically ill #chronic fatigue

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emetkoto · 6 months

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I haven't played bg3 so I'd love to hear how astarion's views of koto change throughout the story pls <3 like is he immediately attracted or what. and what about koto's feelings and how they change. gimmie the deets.

Honestly, Astarion sums up his part pretty well in his confession dialogue!

and then hilariously another tidbit from his final romance scene literally right before he tells you he loves you and you have sex on his grave (ignore old k'oto i havent gotten there on new k'oto yet and also the different outfits these are from two different play sessions)

basically tldr. astarion didnt really care for k'oto at all at first, it was all just manipulation in order to get him to trust him so he would keep him around and protect him since he was terrified of his master finding him (he's a vampire spawn and the only reason he has his free will up until we kill his master is because of the mind flayer parasites all the characters have, he only got away when the mind flayers kidnapped him and has been paranoid about being found since, rightfully so since we come across a monster hunter sent after him early on) so it was all just. seduction and charming! he was really kinda annoyed by k'otos whole 'good guy' thing, like 'ohhhh wow youre a hero. what good are you. nobody ever helped me or saved me. where were you when i needed you.' (obviously completely unfair, k'oto is only 28 and he was turned 200 years ago) and kind of a little bit afraid of him? sure he's shorter than him but he's also way stronger physically and has fangs and claws and strange beastly habits that really just kinda put him off for a while bc yknow. fangs hurt him once. sure this guy seems harmless but he knows better than to trust!!!

except he doesnt. because k'oto was completely unexpected in every way. he's kind and funny and genuine in a way astarion had completely forgotten was possible. he loved him so completely and so honestly the whole time. even when he told him sweet lies and was just so obviously using him he just. kept loving him!!! (k'oto voice) its not real now but someday it might be, and ill still be here when it is. when hes ready to love me back. <--------shit like That!!! the icing on the cake was coming to realize that he and k'oto had. a LOT more in common than he wouldve ever thought. particularly when it came to matters of sex and how they had trouble viewing their bodies as their own due to their circumstances and how it all made it difficult for them to say 'no' to things out of fear/obligation…the very last thing he ever expected from this dumbass catboy was to see himself 100-something years younger in him…..he just. was exactly what astarion needed…uegh!!!

k'oto was pretty much head over heels from the beginning despite the red flags. he was far from home and work where nobody would even think to offer him money for his time and would just spend it with him because they genuinely wanted to for nothing more in exchange than just their own time and company so even if he was being blatantly manipulated it was still the realest shit he'd experienced in years from probably the most attractive guy he'd ever met upto that point so it was a recipe for some good ol fashion love at first sight…or i guess. love at first knifepoint.

maybe a bit of confusion at first bc he'd never been in love before so there was probs a brief period of 'am i in love or is this just lust' until after he slept with him the first time and it didn't go away and in fact only got stronger and he was like 'ok yeah im in love actually!!!!'

sorry this is completely incoherent i love them so fucking much it makes me sick to my stomach and also im so very tired

#words of mimi #kotostarion

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we-survive-endlessly · 3 months

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Word vomit about my poor mental state below, feel free to ignore 😬👍

I have literally been so stressed lately that my skin picking is out of control and I’m having heart palpitations. Dealing with grief, my dog being sick again, work stress, life stress, stress and sadness about the state of the world, like my body just can’t take it.

There’s so much I could say about my job. I recently went to my supervisor about the fact that my coworker who I share an office with sleeps all day. Which was really scary and hard for me, but it’s damaging my uncle’s company and the stores she is supposed to be paying the bills for are super behind because of it. Like getting three to four vendors a DAY reaching out about past due bills. Anywho my supervisor said she would take care of it but now our hr person is leaving which will dump a lot more work on everyone and I doubt anything is going to change. They’re also training me on payroll with the expectation that I’ll be able to do it by myself when the person that trains me goes out of town in like a month. Meaning that NO ONE that will be there will know how to do it or help me if weird situations come up. So now I’m stressing about that.

I was just given a promotion that came with a $4 raise which is amazing. Like I’m now making $6 more than when I started and I haven’t even been there a year which should really excite me but all I can think about is the fact that I still don’t make enough to live on my own and that the average salary needed to live comfortably alone in California is $80,000 a year which I am nowhere near. I’m almost 28, and I still live at home with no expectations of being able to move out anytime soon. Every Sunday night I want to cry because I can’t believe the weekend is over and I have to go to work again tomorrow and I’m going to have to do this probably for the rest of my life because retirement seems like a pipe dream if we even have a society or liveable world when I get to that age anyways.

I see what is going on in the world both in other countries and with people I care about here and I cry every day because while I do what I can to help it never feels like enough and I have to listen to family members with just the most awful thoughts and opinions. We live in a world where the people in charge don’t give a fuck about anyone or anything so long as they get paid and I’m TIRED.

My future, the future in general, feels hopeless. Utterly and completely hopeless. And yet here I am. I’ll go to bed early tonight to try to calm the panic in my chest and escape into my dreamland, even though going to bed early just makes tomorrow feel like it comes even faster, and I’ll go to work. Just like I do every weekday. I’ll pretend like everything is fine. Like my coworker sleeping all day doesn’t infuriate me to the point of feeling physically ill. I’ll come home and take care of my dog and then instead of cleaning or exercising or doing any of my hobbies or anything else that I want to do, I’ll just scroll my phone because I’m too tired to do anything else. Maybe I’ll eat dinner, maybe I’ll just go to bed because I’m too nauseous to eat. And I’ll repeat. For the rest of my life because this shit is never ending.

Anyways, if any of you read this, I’m sorry it’s so negative and depressing. I’ve really been trying to tell myself the things that I would tell a friend who felt this way but it’s just not working. I’m just in a really awful hopeless place and I’m sorry.

#I’m going to bed now #I love you all #I’m sure tomorrow will be back to our regularly scheduled programming of screaming about pretty men on the internet #I just… I’m tired and needed to get this out somewhere without reaching out and burdening my friends with this directly #goodnight 💚#Rae’s ramblings

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thinkpink212 · 10 months

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♡ Taking Myself There - Week 1♡

Summery This week truly took me places; mentally, spiritually and physically. My patience was tested, my limits were pushed, but I also experienced a lot of peace and serenity. All in all, I experienced a duality I would like not to go through again, and hopefully I never have to, if I truly learned my lesson *fingers crossed*.

This week, I managed to get everything done I wanted to get done, Yay me!

Five days later, and here we are... I said I would take myself there, and so far I am eternally grateful for the insight, strength and determination I have managed to keep up during these mildly-wild times. A lot happened this week, but by the grace of the higher power(s) and my ancestors, I managed to get right backup and pick up where I left off - no actually, better then when I left off.

What Mainly helped ♡ Supportive people, who have invested time, energy and money on me & my talents.

♡ My set routine(s) of morning and evening stretching, yoga and meditation.

♡ Finishing a book which advice & guidance helped me through this week.

♡ Talented tarot readers, and my own readings - that helped guide me whenever I felt I had lost overview

♡ The fact that I was alone home 70% of this week, because it allowed me to really get my emotions out however I needed to get them out.

My routine With changes, tweaks and adjustments, I am now closer to narrow down what really works for me and what doesn't. And I have accepted that everyday will not always be the same, and that's okay. As humans we will adapt, adjust and change constantly due to external and internal interferences, and now that I am able to adjust as quickly as I have been - all while still maintaining a baseline for myself - I am very proud of me.

Highlights - The best parts of the week where five moments... ♡ Being offered support for people who barely know me really hit the spot differently.

♡ Meeting the sweetest mom and daughter, and her taking such liking to me she came back just to talk with me some more (awww)

♡ The moments alone in my home, where all I could hear was the rain. All clean, fed, body tired and mind just enjoying the little sounds of life.

♡ Laughing so hard throughout a long shift, which made it all go so much faster! I really have some cool coworkers!

♡ Finishing writing a whole chapter and studying for my exam in full! Best feeling

What's next The coming week has a lot of days of me working a lot, and despite knowing Ill be to tired to even think, I am ready. I know its temporary (the busy week), so I am facing it head on and with as much optimism as I can. ♡ My priorities is to take all the available mock exams & score at least a C+

♡ Finish another chapter, which should be approx. 15-20 pages (unedited)

♡ Continue the morning and evening stretches. They clear my mind and calm my body, so even if I am too tired to think, this back is getting cracked and I am laying on the floor idc!

Hope you have all had a lovely week! And if not, no worries you have next week to do right by you!

#thinkpink personal #week 1 #taking myself there #motivational #advice

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innerangeltoadlover · 1 month

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4. So I was diagnosed a thousand years ago at 25 and from that time on I existed in a world of stupor and the early years were especially hard. There is nothing quite like taking meds and sleeping pills and still being awake at 4am. It’s actually the worst feeling I’ve experienced in the medication side of the illness - being alone with your thoughts and having them spiral in unending repetition is difficult to describe but the added feeling of physical coldness paired with sweating that chronic insomnia brings makes the chirping of birds at sunrise an unhappy occasion. There is also nothing like having to go to bed at 10 pm because your sister is visiting with the newborn every fortnight and hearing the baby crying at 6am and hearing your sister making gurgling noises to get him back to sleep and then hearing her snoring and then hearing her waking at 8am and then hearing her shouting in the kitchen about how lazy I am and knowing it's going to be a really hard day because I’ve spent the night awake. To the layperson the answer to insomnia is always the same : just go to bed earlier! I have heard this so many times it is like an anthem of people's complete ignorance of mental illness. Being exhausted does not guarantee a good night's sleep and in my case I find being tired more often than not guarantees a cycle of insomnia that also guarantees a day of couch sitting but no sleep - that’s real insomnia - it’s continuous. Since being diagnosed I have also never experienced a night's sleep without being medicated which is kind of hellish when I see it written. I’m including this because it illustrates how hard recovery is and how fragile we are in those early years and how bad it is to have to endure someone who is not interested in helping you to wellness. I probably should have gotten support from my sister who is a nurse but I may as well have been sitting on the couch eating chips all day .

Certainly it is difficult to be around a person who has a mental illness especially if you lack empathy however the effort I was making to help out was met with hostility and stereotypical statements about ‘craziness’. It was only after the Court case that we understood that my sister was returning home and telling her husband I was abusing her. Why would she do this? Throughout her relationship with her husband our family has been actively involved in my sister’s life by means of scapegoating. Though she wanted very little to do with us keeping contact fulfilled the same fiction by which the relationship and initial attraction began- that of victim and saviour. Returning home with an abuse story allowed her to initiate feelings with her husband that were obviously extremely important. This lie is the reason we ended up in Court and with a diagnosis of schizophrenia to support this scenario it was easily enabled. However as my story will show the above scenario was used when it was convenient and was contradicted in the next mood change. There was no steady theme in my sister’s abuse as she was an opportunist and I could never see what was coming next. My sister’s ability to be quick off the mark would be seen by herself as an asset however when it is used against not only me but our whole family it’s nothing short of disgusting. I think there was also an element of resentment that I was living with my parents and stealing the limelight from her and her kiddos even though my input was minimal . I always had it in my head that she should count herself lucky that she had not inherited an illness which had generational impact in our family and act accordingly but I don’t think that fact had any impact - I was just a fucking annoyance . However I also must be cautious about my abilities in interpreting human behaviour - because unlike ‘normal’ people i have been trained by therapists to disregard all that I observe because of my diagnosis (this has worked well) .

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mis-calculated · 5 months

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Recently experiencing health ocd has been probably one of the hardest things I've had to deal with in my entire life by a mile (which is saying a lot).

There's a special level of all encompassing terror involved in experiencing a degree of real physical pain triggering your brain to immediatly jump to all the serious and very real medical problems with those symptoms which could be dire if not treated immediatly, and using every ounce of your remaining strength to ignore the urge to go to the hospital while the wierd pains persist. Having lost insurance until January 1st has made this even more difficult. Most terrifyingly, there is one day my brain could be right. I could in fact be experiencing a heart attack due to ridiculously high stress levels and lack of nutrition from my mostly untreated ARFID, but i chose to ignore it because I can no longer trust my own brain.

I have experienced anxiety all my life, but even at it's worst, I have never struggled to function more than these last few months. I am afraid to leave the house for too long. I am afraid to be too far away. I'm afraid of being at work or in the middle of a concert, because it is very not ideal to leave if something were wrong. I'm afraid to be alone at home for too long, because if something ever was really wrong, I couldn't get to the hospital because I can't drive.

I am so tired and sore from being on edge constantly. I'm so exhausted from trying to handle it all internally so that it doesn't wear out my lovely partner too much.

I'm trying so hard to be strong every day but god this illness just sucks and feels neverending. Every time I begin to be able to cope, it just starts convincing me I must have another deadly illness.

As I lie here unable to determine whether I'm really lightheaded/sickly feeling, or whether it's all in my head, I wish a very sincere, Fuck You to health ocd.

#im sorry i needed to get that out of my system #health ocd #ocd #rambles

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mywheelieweirdlife · 1 year

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Shout out to everyone else who has stupid digestive issues and every life change you do or don't make for it.

For me, 98% of changes I make feel worth it, but I know for others it's not.

But every time I spend a few days not at home on my very specific eating habits and schedules; I feel it and I hate it.

Normally people don't treat peanut butter and dates as a main part of their diet to the point where a jar of peanut butter going up in price is worthy of crying over bc it fucks the whole budget and you do in fact budget to buy both pitted dates and dried apricots in bulk.

Normal people don't treat yoghurt as a holy grail because your digestive system is so messed up that daily probiotics are also a life saver.

And peanut butter, Up&Go's and protein supplements worthy of the highest of fitness bros? Yeah; that's because I can't eat red meat regularly or meat regularly because my body refuses to tolerate it.

Do I take supplements like a vegan should because I have to eat vegetarian and eggs are expensive so I use cheese and milk as primary sources of calories? Yes yes I sometimes do when I can afford supplements; or more accurately I buy foods and juice with supplements... sometimes specifically made for elderly people who struggle with pills and food intake because I'm poor and that's the easiest way to do it. (And generally, they do taste good)

Do I live off coffee, dates, apricots, fibre supplements and slippery elm and lemon&honey tea because my body likes to refuse to digest food and I don't want to pay for or take laxative pills and the drinks are gross and expensive? Yes, unfortunately.

Do I also have to physically massage my entire digestive tract three times a day to physically move it because my muscles don't work? Unfortunately.

Does all of this lowkey scare me because I do want to get pregnant one day and I have no clue how that'll impact it? Yes, very much yes. Will be eating so much gentle high fiber food in the third trimester if I ever get pregnant knowing that's coming (not just because pregnancy... specifically for postpartum. If you know, you know).

Like do I feel incredibly sick and have for the last two days because of the changes while I was gone? Yes, it was awful.

Do I know have to fix my entire body because of it over the next two weeks? Yep, unfortunately. While having very little money to my name.

Did it once again highlight how much energy, effort and time my body steals from me? Yes, I spent a full hour and a bit on the toilet because of my stomach being a dick yesterday before therapy while my mother was out on a walk. And a good 30 tonight low key crying in pain which is fun.

I will also acknowledge that there's two sides of this:

I can spend the hours of planning and preparing and working with my body, acknowledging that it will never function normally but fuck I can try my best to live pain free.

Or...

I can do what I did while I stayed with others this weekend and pretend that I am fine and that food is not a problem... and pay for that in pain and constipation and bloating and all the other fun issues that come with my conditions.

And I personally choose change my lifestyle because I live with enough issues; but I have friends who choose 'normalcy' all the time not just for convenience on mother's day weekends.

But it's hard and it sucks and I can't get laid when I'm off my routine because it's too fucking painful. I have blood pressure spikes and drops when I'm off my routine. Hell; I never feel more dysphoric than when I'm off my routine because suddenly the pain reminds me of everything and I'm so tired my mental health drops like an avalanche on Mt Everest; fast, hard, all consuming and deadly.

And this is one part of my chronic illness management.

This is only 1 change.

It's not the nerve pain management, it's not the mental health management, it's not the connective tissue issues, the dislocations... anything else that impacts my life.

It's just the impacts my stomach and intestines have on my dietary requirements and the extra symptoms they add and exacerbate when I don't maintain a specific schedule for management that took years to learn and control and occasionally fluctuates.

Like I will never live a normal life and it's hard af but it's still mine and I want to live it.

But there's more than just me and we all deserve the recognition and acknowledgment for how much it takes and what fucking badasses we are for surviving such bullshit.

#disability #mine #chronic illness #disabled #chronic pain #fnd

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katzenschlafs · 5 months

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I Am Done Fighting My Depression

And I know that sounds like a declaration of giving in, that I'm going to just lie in bed til it all blows over, or maybe kill myself.

But that's not at all what I mean.

I mean: I'm done with the metaphor of "fighting." I'm done with the false binary that I'm either fighting or giving in. I'm done taking up arms against my own mind and body. I'm done trying to use violence and force to bring myself into alignment with what "should" be.

Last Thursday, my therapist and I talked about my diagnoses explicitly, something I have almost never gotten to do in therapy. I am still meeting criteria for Major Depressive Disorder. Almost every criterion, in fact. This was, somehow, a surprise to me. So surprising I started dissociating, and then cried the rest of the therapy session and a while after.

This morning, I struggled to get out of bed. It took me two and a half hours to convince myself, and it was bladder pressure more than mental pressure that finally convinced me. I fought my way out of bed. I fought my way into making breakfast. I fought my way into going for a walk in the last of the fading sunlight. I tried to fight my way into doing something with a friend, and by that point, the fight was too much, and the depression won, and I'm sitting here typing instead of seeing a movie with someone I care about.

But something interesting has been happening in the background all day.

The realization that fighting is exhausting. That at this point, the fight against the depression accounts for more of my exhaustion than the depression itself.

A few lines of Andrea Gibson poetry have been echoing in my head for hours:

Truce is a word made of velvet. Truce is a word made of velvet. Wear it everywhere you go.

It's the very end of a poem about chronic illness, called "How to Be Sick." And regardless of whether a given illness is usually classified as physical or mental, our culture treats all illness as an enemy to be fought and conquered. But the illness lives in our bodies and minds. When we fight an illness, so often we find that we are fighting only ourselves.

My depression is not a foreign entity slamming a battering ram into the fortress of my soul. My depression is my neurons, my hormones, my brain chemicals, my internal systems trying to find a way to survive a world that isn't built for me. My depression is made up of pieces that also make up who I am. To fight it is to fight myself.

I'm so tired of fighting myself.

My depression and the rest of me want the same thing: to survive and thrive. To protect me from harm. To enjoy my life. To carve out a little corner of the world where it's a little easier to be a human being.

It's just that my depression is running that program on software that doesn't match the world I live in. That mismatch is what makes it an illness.

I can try to fight it. I can try to hijack or hack it. I can try to live with it. I can try to let it run the show.

Or I can start to take care of it. Like it's just another member of my inner family system, another inner child or inner young adult who is doing their best with the tools they have.

This isn't my idea, really. It comes from a Thich Nhat Hanh essay about anger. He says he smiles to his anger and says "I will take good care of you."

I'm still figuring out how to take care of my emotions and my inner selves. I'm learning.

And I think taking care of my depression involves a lot of the same actions that I was already doing, just with a very different mindset. I used to go for a walk to fight my depression. I used to make breakfast to fight my depression. I used to spend time with friends to fight my depression (and because I genuinely want to see my friends, and "fuck you depression for making me feel like staying home").

I think I can still go for a walk and make breakfast and see friends. But I can't do those things with a sword in my hand anymore. I'm going to go for a walk to take care of my depression. If my depression says the world is stacked against me, I can say "sure, but the world can't stop me from taking care of us with a little exercise." If my depression says there's no point to doing the dishes, I can say "yes, there will be more dishes tomorrow, but we'll both feel a little better if we clean up a bit today."

I guess it's just compassionate reparenting. Apparently that's what I keep coming back around to.

It's hard to compassionately reparent an inner self you refuse to acknowledge or treat as real. It's hard to compassionately reparent an inner self that you are constantly "fighting" and trying to "overcome."

Compassionate reparenting is hard enough as it is. I don't want to make it even harder on myself.

My depression is not my enemy. It's a part of me that deserves love and care and compassion. The goal is not to make it go away. The goal is to transform it into something new. By loving it as it is. And by not having expectations about what it might become once it's been loved long enough and well enough to become whatever it was originally meant to be.

#cw suicide mention #depression #inner family systems #essay #reparenting #metaphor #illness #if i ever write a beauty and the beast retelling it's gonna be about this

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szif · 4 months

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i9t doestnt even deserve to be in a main post im ranting. im just ranting

omg im so done i had to run. to the other side of the CITY. to deliver some random bullshit to a family member who hates my guts and keeps hitting me just so that he could go and be like. "umm you werent fast enough". ok. i go home. i asked my mom for tea once i get back. she goes "sure". she forgot it. im like ok whatever. she just starts talking on the phone with some friend. friend is boasting on how annoyed she is about the fact that homeless people with blankets walk around and stay inside the heated waiting rooms of train/bus/metro stations. she talks about how so many of them end up dead or genuinely murdered at the late hours and how annoying that is to her because more of them pop up after that. she tells the story of some other day how she kicked out some homeless woman from the station and ridiculed her because the woman said she had a job which this friend didnt believe. my mom nods along to this and talks about how "there is so many stupid people in this world". the cop guy starts messaging on how there's new supplies of outfits and guns that are being registered and shipped around in his name. he comments on how he hopes that these won't have to be refunded and get a legal process on it because as always he mentions periodically, every young person coming to work with them eventually kills themselves on-duty and he has to "clean up" their "belongings". he is still on his quest to get me to work there with him on this. right now as all of this is going down i am pretty much late to a meetup of a family member of mine who pretty much guilted my mom into forcing me to visit them. they will tell the stories (which are just everyday retellings) of all the illegal things their company does with them, chemically poisoning and burning their skin, illegally revoking days, the disgustingly inhumane working condition, the sewer water they're working in with the electrical cords sparkling next to them, and ill just hear this over and over again. im sorry but i am just so tired of all this like i hate all these people i hate everything that is going down and i hate the fact that im a part of this and i hate how this entire "family blood bond" goes so far . my mom already disowned me as her child but since im not married im also not my own person for her. so i cant act physically go anywhere alone i cant have my own money since she'll just steal it all i can't buy anything cuz she'll intentionally break it. im just so done with everyone i know im done with the fact that i barely have anything and i cant do anything and that i get to hear all these fucking horrible shit played along as normal by people of zero morals. like i need to burn myself and all my belongings down and start from scratch i genuinely just feel like im in quicksand and will always be as long as im here

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heroicn0nsense · 9 months

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Tumblr has just become my place to vent lately because life is awful, and no one sees it anyway but I need to get it out, I guess.

I've been sitting here, with everything catching up to me. And I'm struggling with the fact that the one person, my mother, who is able to help me is thinking more of herself and her issues than actually trying to help me. And it makes me feel absolutely worthless. I'm being dragged around with no say until I can get my things moved.

And then I just reflect on how it's just a continuation of my life in general. Of how I feel like I get two steps ahead only to be dragged six steps back. How everyone gets tired of me after a while. How I am never going to amount to anything because I can never get a good break, or keep missing the bus, or am too mentally and physically ill.

I'm 35 with nothing to show for it. No home. No more life partner. No money to my name. No career. No accomplishments that mean anything at all.

I don't feel life is worth living. There's nothing coming. I'm in too much pain. And all of my decades of busting my ass have amounted to dust and the one person I thought was in my corner got tired of me. Got tired of me not being able to get anywhere. And tired of the things i can't control.

Which is her right. Because I am hurtful, and she shouldn't have to stand for it.

but I'm also so tired. I'm so exhausted. I'm tired of living with me. I'm tired of suffering. I'm tired of being stuck. I'm tired of being dragged and feeling like I don't have a choice or say. I'm tired of amounting to nothing. I'm tired of being nothing. I don't want to live any more. What is the point?

What is the point?

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approximately20blorbos · 2 years

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If Immor had a theme song, what would it be?

!! thank you for the ask!! yk there are a lot of strong contenders in his playlist so I'm gonna list them all out and the pros and cons of each before I decide, for Funzies

1. Rocket Man (I Think It's Going To Be A Long, Long Time), by Elton John:

First of all, it's Elton John, and he is a middle-aged father. In my experience, middle-aged fathers love Elton John. It's a requirement for the job. Immor would love Elton John so this is points in favor for this song. But this one I think is so well fitting because of the metaphor of being on Mars, away from your family, just kind of fits very well for him particularly in the context of our dnd campaign, and the whole song just feels a little tired, a little ready to just go home, and it reminds me of how this man has been through so much and wants to live a quiet life at this point but God Won't Let Him Rest. and the whole "I'm not the man they think I am at home" where he's largely regarded as a hero for actions he took that not only directly led to the most traumatic experience of his life but that he took largely for reasons he regrets, where I think he'd accept the title of hero if he'd taken those actions for the right reasons but at the time he wasn't thinking about saving lives as much as. other things. which I won't type out (and honestly I'm being vague in general here) both bc that would need a trigger warning and because it's a backstory spoiler and I know you specifically would rather learn that naturally over the course of the campaign. but yeah.

2. The Run and Go, by Twenty One Pilots

Now while Twenty One Pilots is generally not really the style of music I think Immor would enjoy, unfortunately for him, it's the music I enjoy, so I was going to find at least one song fitting for him out of their entire discography that I listen to too much. This one's really fitting because I think it outlines super well Immor's need to absolutely not burden anyone with his problems, yet the acknowledgment that he can't carry it all alone with the chorus. and then the fact that this one is written in a 2/2 march time signature also really helps. I think marches and waltzes fit Immor really well from a music theory perspective, with the first being stately and organized in nature and the second lending itself well to slow, classy pieces.

3. Ship in a Bottle, by fin

This one I think is really fitting because once again it kind of addresses the walls Immor puts up and the way his own independence backfires on him pretty strongly at times. Something else about the theme of the threat of drowning alone at sea really fits this too, since that's absolutely one of Immor's greater fears, where both the metaphorical and literal interpretations of the song address his fears and, honestly, a response to trauma. But then also this one really is good bc the opening to the song is sort of about rebuilding yourself and putting on a neatly-presented facade for the people around you, and Immor has worked very hard to not only change fundamentally the person he used to be before the traumatic experiences of war, but also had worked to hide what he cannot or has not been able to change, such as his physical scars or his ptsd. And then denial absolutely factors into that as well, where he not only refuses to seek help but refuses to even admit he needs it or admit how his trauma has affected him which is also reflected in the song. unfortunately this one also suffers from Immor wouldn't like the music syndrome though, so that's a point against it

4. This Is Gospel, Panic! At The Disco

now while Twenty One Pilots was an ill-fitting musical style, P!ATD is even worse, but! but. the lyrics make up for it. first of all the lyrics have a slightly anti-theist vibe to them which I think is fitting for Immor, given that he's an atheist at this point less because he has little proof that the gods exist but moreso because he doesn't believe they deserve worship. then, once again we have the theme of being "afraid of falling apart," which I don't think I have to explain again, you get it at this point. unlike ship in a bottle, this song has a little bit more of a determined fighting spirit to it I think, because while ship in a bottle feels determined it's more like breaking-point, barely keeping it together determined. Immor's good at keeping it together. he's well-practiced at it. I think this is gospel does a good job of keeping the same themes while being a bit more in-character for Immor's day to day temperament. plus one of the lyrics is "[this is gospel for] insufferable bastards and the man do be a bastard that is sometimes even insufferable

5. Work Song, Hozier

Hozier, like Elton John, I think would fit Immor's tastes very well, especially this one with the particularly slow pace and steady, heavy beat. I like that this one's still got a determined vibe to it with the whole "no grave can hold my body down" but also has themes of love in it because God his family is so important to him. "I'll crawl home to her" I am going feral. I am weeping. he wants to just be home and live a domestic life with his wife and children so badly. This song even alludes to Regaya's backstory with "nothing in her room but an empty crib" and I love that in the song Hozier sings about his baby finding him during a dark time in his life because that's absolutely what happened to Immor.

and now that I've written all that out in a manner probably incomprehensible to most I am even more torn about which song would be his "theme" song. it's really hard to capture a character's entire personality in a single song I didn't write myself, yk? I think if normal poems were included here it would be easier to answer, just because of the poem "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley that fits Immor so well I literally put it at the top of his backstory. because I am extra, here it is:

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

God that poem goes so hard and is so good for Immor. but I don't think I can pick a single song for him. none of the music he would like encapsulates his character quite as fully as I'd like and the songs that capture that pretty well lyrically or thematically are songs he wouldn't like. still I hope this was a satisfactory answer and I had a hell of a lot of fun answering this question. reminds me of AP Lit, practicing my poetry analysis skills and comparing literary themes. the good old days

#asks #oc: immor #misfit crew #if anyone wants to ask this question for my other characters as well I would be equally happy to ramble about them for hours too 👀

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