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kineticallyanywhere · 4 years

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I'd love to hear those fusion thots :eyes: the pacific rim ones were V good

If you’ve been around this house for a hot minute you might know that fusion aus are My Entire Jam Garden so you might imagine I’ve already put some thought into this and you would imagine right. The following was brainstormed in consort with @aryashi my second brain.

The basis for this au is that fusion is possible in the forgotten realms and is just a thing people there can do. This also applies to sudden interdimensional travelers.

tl;dr I wrote basically a one-shot’s worth of words down there but in short fusion is rad but also there's an unexpected amount of drama. which is basically a summary of the podcast but replace "fusion" with "fatherhood"

(preface: fusion is not a sex metaphor, just like pacific rim. Platonic fusion is normal. Familial fusion is normal. Okay, continue.)

First inter-dad fusion: “I silence his dumb ass with a kiss” except its “I silence his dumb ass by accidentally fusing our bodies and consiousnesses into a single being w h o o p s”

I like to name fusions as something other than their romantic ship name so let’s call him… o h yeah we named all of Henry’s fusions after animals. So this guy is Hare (like Darryl). Hare is pretty stable from the outside, but their internal dialogues clash really hard so they're incredibly slow to make decisions.

Internally, Henry feels like he's crossed Darryls boundaries. They have to hold it, but he lets Darryl take the wheel and all similar mistakes are made. They make it through the thing with the Lance before unfusing. Darryl has no idea what that was and already has a lot of intimacy issues, so he’s not particularly inclined to try that again for funsies. Henry is curious, but there’s a buried part of him that’s making him deeply unsettled by the whole experience. He can barely have a straight thought about it, much less articulate the feeling, so he doesn’t try. He lets it go.

First sons fusion: When the Lord of Chaos throws back his robe, yelling “Dad! !” it’s a GIANT Lark&Sparrow. They’re like trying to fuse two rubies together, you just get a bigger ruby. This changes a bit later, when the twins start to diverge from each other vis a vis Love Wolfism, but basically the Lord of Chaos is an Oak Twin the size of their dad. But still looks 12. It probably actually takes the Love Wolf speech from Henry and their divergent reactions to get them to unfuse.

Second inter-dad fusion: That other time Henry and Darryl smooched while high on drug flowers. It was very unpleasant, they don’t talk about it, they don’t try that again for a while.

They get a book on fusions from the Library that reads almost like a birds and the bees talk and there is minor culture-shock panicking about whether fusion is Like That, but something in Henry is telling him “No. It’s not Like That.” He doesn’t really know why he’s so solid in that belief. He understands that fusion is unique and powerful and a wonderful thing, but something about doing it is just… getting under his skin.

Third inter-dad fusion: Glenn and Ron. I’m not even sure the exact context or anything. Maybe they were just vibin’. All I really know is that I imagine these two occasionally fuse for the weirdest things, like

Fourth inter-dad fusion: also Glon, fishing magic items out of a giant toilet. They needed to be taller.

Glon is… gosh, what the heck is Glon. Performative out the ass, for sure. Down for basically anything. Allowed to wear bootie shorts.

Back up a hot minute though, because first dad-son fusion: almost happens on the Tower of Terry. It comes so close. They’re in that hug, and Ron thinks maybe if they fuse, the magic won’t take TJ. Or even if it takes them both, that’s better than TJ getting taken alone. They don’t have to say “I’m sorry” or “I love you, son” out loud, but before it really takes, Terry gets ripped away. Because Willy can’t have that, can he?

Fifth inter-dad fusion: is Glon again, but the circumstances are way different because Ron just saw the mummy of his wife and Glenn is trying to help him breeze past it and it works until it doesn’t and they fall apart with Ron a crying mess.

Sixth inter-dad fusion buckle up because we’ve reached Ravenloft. Before dad-fusion 6, Henry gets caught in his dad’s claws. He feels something very familiar and rejects it with everything he has, and escapes to grab Glenn. Then he gets hit by Calm Emotions, Glenn reaches up, trying not to fall, and Henry is already super chill about everything all of a sudden, so when Glenn tries to fuse out of panic, Henry goes for it.

Gila—Henry and Glenn—can do actual bard magic. They’re like Opal, in that a single moment of disconnect is enough to snap them apart and finding that disconnect is not difficult. But when the situation is saving their kids and telling their asshole dads to get lost, that’s plenty enough connection to cast an actual magic-ass thunderwave with a guitar and maybe a bit more.

(Barry didn’t like that.)

So another fun thing about adding this factor to cannon is that this lets the dads have glimpses inside each other’s heads. So certain conversations could change a little bit. For example, in the van while they’re driving away from the Ravenloft fight and Henry’s explaining a few things.

Henry: I don't have a lot of memories from that time in my life— Glenn: Not a lot? Try "not any.” Henry: Glenn— Glenn: Dude, none of my business, but your brain was weird. Henry: Glenn. Glenn: Like did the government get to you when you showed up on earth or— Henry: Glenn what the fff—rick are you even saying just shut up Darryl: …

Darryl had noticed, too, but Glenn has other fusion experience to compare with. Henry could catch glimpses and imprints and trains of thought which ground in different points of Darryl/Glenn’s entire life, and Glenn and Ron can do that equally with each other. But a bunch of things for Henry, if you try to backtrack to where the decision comes from it just. Stops. Especially with using magic, which Glenn got to do. And Henry’s thoughts on fusion end dead hard.

(filtering all of this through Freddie’s headcanon that Glenn always figured Henry was from Faerun but was just wildly wrong about all the details is so much fun)

This is the part in the fic series where there’s a one-shot about Henry having a panic attack just outside of the camp at night, and the most he can explain is just that something about seeing his dad again set him off.

And then we get to a lighter turn for first dad-son fusion but for realsies this time: Ron Stampler nat 20s to hug his son and then also is the son. And that dad. And dads are supposed to be inside to do a ritual for a demon cow.

RJ is the sweetest dude. Also if you don’t sit on him he will wander off and do the most extreme version of the first thing that comes to his mind for a problem solution or release from boredom. And he will not tell you about it in advance, so seriously. Sit on him.

So they stand there for a second like "yes... Yes. Yes... Okay. Im... I'm the dad. But I'm the kid? But im. The dad. And all the other dads are also the kid so... Dad... Trumps kid status. And I'm the dad... Cool." and they go in to help with the demon cow.

The kids are flipping out outside.

Henry spots them and drops the cage, almost like he’s Garnet and just spotted Stevonnie. While all the other dad’s are freaking out/fawning/curious, Glenn lifts their glasses and theres four eyes and he drops the glasses and never mentions this again.

Rj: hi um. I'm a dad.... Yeah. So I'm here tooooooo frickin kill a demon cow let's do this Rj: got the good dad vibes comin out of my butt

For realsies though Terry should be outside, so they unfuse for the cow thing and the bbq but then Dennis happens.

Second dad-son fusion: Dennis: are you sure you've got this? Ron: i can do it TJ: he can DO it dad GIVE ME YOUR HAND

RJ’s an arcane trickster and it’s real cool and Dennis looks so jealous ha ha ha and also they separate after the fight and suddenly Terry’s unsettled and needs to talk to Ron for a second because “Hey Dad is Dennis not real????????”

Third dad-son fusion: is way less eventful, but who the heck can say no to more reasons to cry about the Wilsons at the tail end of the Supper Bowl arc?

Fusion is not a replacement for talking, but it is a bit smoother in communicating emotions. It doesn’t happen until the end of their talk, when Darryl’s got his arm around Grant. I don’t think either of them are super attached to this whole fusion thing, (If Grant is, it certainly wasn’t his dad he’d been thinking about trying it with. Maybe one of the other kids… “maybe Terry.”) so they may not even pick a name. Henry certainly cries at least twice as hard, but when they want to just get something to eat and maybe just hang out for a while, nobody pushes.

I think the most important part of this is that it gives Grant a kind of… emotional break. Lets him feel something nice again— like he does in the show, too, but in a way that’s a bit more stable while it lasts. Like the feeling when you’re a kid on a long car ride with your parents, one that ends in getting home late and you’ve fallen asleep and they carry you out of the car.

Good things for Grant Wilson for til forever.

Somewhere in that arc, though, Glenn approaches Henry by themselves. Glenn’s not really a feelings guy, but whatever’s going on in Henry’s head is a problem. It’s a one-up the o-dads have on them, and they can’t afford that right now.

Glenn: so you like... Really don't hardly remember being a kid? Henry: Glenn, I don't want to talk about it Glenn: I bet your dad's gonna wanna talk about it Henry: well... i don't care what he wants Glenn:... You seriously don't know how you got to earth? Henry: [exasperated] the frick are you-- I got to earth like anyone else, Glenn. You know where babies come from, right? Glenn: of course i fucking know where babies come from. A mommy and a daddy love each other very much and then their kid runs away so hard he skips dimensions Henry: wh-- wait you-- do you think I'm an alien? Glenn: obviously Henry: Glenn that's-- [sighs, rubs his face] Glenn this isn't the kind of time for your conspiracies Glenn: hey as far as I'm concerned, a man who sleeps with an axe under his pillow is a fool every night but one. and you shoot poison from your hands and shape shift into bears

Which adds nicely to the slide of heading to Oakveil next

Henry: y'know what. When we leave here, we can get my kids next. Glenn: your interdimensional kids Henry: to prove to you you're being crazy. Again. Glenn: De Nial is a river man, and we left it back on earth

And one more dialogue bite, because…

Glenn: claim your powers latched onto you from this world all you want. But that language you and your dad spoke, didn't come out of the air, it came out of the door in your head

...fusion means the other dads get to learn about the metaphorical brain door.

This brings us into the most recent arc, heading into Oakveil. He and Ron sneak in, and Beary tells Henry he’s home, and pieces start to click together. Henry’s from this world, so he understands why he’s had such a particular view on fusion and that basic cultural understanding. That it’s considered normal. And that it’s even normal for a kid’s first fusion to be with their parent. Their parent who loves them and knows them wants to see them grow.

Bear Ry’Oak is not that.

First O-dad fusion: Henry’s first fusion was with his dad.

I think the worst thing is that, when fused with his dad, Hen doesn't feel like he's not himself. one of the interesting things about the Oaks is that they're kind of all slight alterations on the same traits. Like as gross as it feels to admit, Beary is just Henry but with the condescension turned up to a billion and his high horse is basically an elephant and no self-awareness or care for how others might have different perspectives from him

But Beary is still so overwhelming to Henry that it just flattens pretty much anything that makes Henry, Henry. Specifically the parts that Barry dislikes. like Henry's anger. To directly quote Aryashi: “Beary thinks using fusion for combat is barbaric. obviously fusion is for Conflict Resolution. Fuse with Beary so he can sort out your disagreement with him!”

(and then bathe in bleach)

So Beary finds them in Oakveil and Henry starts panicking and he tries to Handle Henry like he did when Henry was a kid, fusing with him to stomp down on his feelings to cut a panic attack or outburst off at the pass. If Henry's in no place to fight back it usually works, but if Ron's there--literally pressed against Henry's back--to see the fusion coming, maybe he reaches for a fusion, too, and lets Henry's instincts choose which pull to follow, and Henry's instincts choose Ron.

Seventh inter-dad fusion: Wren is suddenly there before Beary can even start his attempt to coach Henry through breathing (his half-effort to help Henry and be able to say that he tried freakin hate him) and is sitting on the ground and the disgusted look Beary gets seeing this. (Fusing with an outsider is something he considers so beneath his son.)

Beary:... Ah. Ronald. Wren, existing, suddenly, and mostly being Ron's processing power as Henry's mental wheels try to slow down to match Ron's pace (cultivated through a childhood of dealing with Willy) rather than amp them both up: uhm... It's just Ron, actually Beary: would you mind... (there's other people around so he can't say "decontaminating") liberating my son. (as if ignoring the role his son had in choosing this fusion over his) Wren: Henry is uh... (me? Not me? Yes me, not up for this, we should go somewhere else that usually works fine, we can just leave and find the others and that'll be fine) he's good. We're good, we're gonna... (looking at the other people who look like Henry and the "not amping each other up” thing is working less and less) Wren: bye

And then they just stand up and fast-walk away

Wren is either chill af and rolling with every punch or the living equivalent of a coke bottle that you popped a whole roll of mentos in and then closed immediately. At this moment, it’s very much the coke bottle side. Beary lets them go because he knows Henry will be back, and they make it just outside of town to where the others have just shown up before they fall apart.

Ron: We found the door! Darryl: what door? Ron: the one in Henry's head! And all the dads know what he's talking about Glenn: did you open it? Henry: no Ron: a little bit Henry(probably now starting that panic attack): the anchors in there Ron: his dad came out of it Darryl: his dad???????? Henry, vulnerability, Oak: I AM FEELING VERY VULNERABLE RIGHT NOW AND I HATE IT [chorus of mumbled sorrys] Ron: oh also Oakvale is Henry's home Darryl: WHAT Glenn: Uh hey anyone gonna pick up the phone cause I FUCKIN CALLED IT Henry: That's not my home! My home is with Mercedes back on Earth! Glenn: Yeah, this is just where you were born. Henry: Glenn I swear to God-- Glenn: Dude lay off, I was agreeing with you! Home's where the heart meds are and all that jazz Darryl: Wait, you have heart meds? At home? When was the last time you took your heart meds? Glenn: Uhh... not since I came here? It's fiiiiiine. Never felt better! Ron: Not to interrupt but Henry's on the ground breathing funny. Glenn, are you sure you don't have any heart meds? Henry: being hugged by both of his sons in a simultaneous way that is not their normal simultaneous way (i.e. the Lord of Chaos way): WHY ARE MY SONS TALLER THAN ME Glenn: I'm more surprised that they're hugging you Lord of Chaos: to assert dominance! Any moment now, we will turn this hug into a suplex!

And that basically brings us to now? I want a Triple Oak Fusion (the King of Chaos) but with how the fight with Beary went I’m not sure where it’ll go. OH YEAH.

Autumn stopped fusing with Hen even when he was a kid because she couldn’t stand to see how much her son craved the approval of that evil man who stole her life away. And whether or not Henry ever fuses with anyone ever again after finding out he’s got Eldritch in him has gotta be up in the air.

And at this point I could easily be convinced that the next inter-dad fusion is Darryl and Glenn, those beautiful idiots. They could be… Denn. Glarryl? We’ll workshop it.

#jakalboy #dndads #aus #fusion aus #dungeons and daddies #me talking #my writing

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kingreywrites · 3 years

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In what order would you rate all the songs in the Tangled franchise from best to worst (including movie and series) and why would you rate them that way?

That sort of question is so stressful like, I hope none of you expect me to have good taste or anything, I'm only listening to songs for the emotions they give me asgdhjdj also if I didn't make a mistake, there's exactly 40 songs between the movie and the series and it pleases me greatly

Anyway this is very long so read more it is (and btw since i cannot ever make up my mind this is far from a fixed list, ask me tomorrow and it'll be different asfhdjd the first ones and the last ones stay mostly unchanged but the middle is a big puddle of what i've been listening to the most lately)

1. I See The Light

It's very soft and very sweet and I could spend my life listening to it. I loved it before even watching Tangled for the first time and now I've got all this emotional attachment too so like yeah it deserves the first spot

2. Stronger Than Ever Before

Straight out banger okay, I love it so much and it always put me in such a good mood 😭💕

3. Buddy Song

Same reasons as above asghdjd

4. When Will My Life Begin (reprise)

Dude I just….. yeah this song always makes me emotional it's so freaking great i wish it was one hour long

5. Next Stop Anywhere (reprise)

Underrated new dream duet, again i only wish it was LONGER

6. The Girl Who Has Everything (reprise)

i listen to it and i cry what more can i say it's too sOFT

7. Everything I Ever Thought I Knew

Listen it's eugene's song at this point i cannot deny that i just love these songs based on what they make me feel and this one makes me feel a LOT

8. Nothing Left To Lose

Discovered the show through it and that part when they both sing at the same time hits just right 😌

9. Mother Knows Best (reprise)

It hurts but god is this an awesome villain song, both in the performance and the lyrics ;-;

10. Ready As I'll Ever Be

I love that song but I'll be honest I mostly love Varian's part and the chorus (?) part….. it's a banger but i tend to skip cass and rapunzel's part asfhdjdk (sorry it's still amazing tho 😭)

11. Life After Happily Ever After

Eugene's part 💕💖💖💕💖💖🥰💕🥰💕

12. Bigger Than That

Lance has the best voice all his songs are the coolest

13. Crossing The Line

The beginning between Rapunzel and Cassandra?? Unparalleled, I just. wish they kept going like this. Cass' solo part is still great but the beginning was SO good

14. With You By My Side

Very sweet and I love when people sing together asgdhjd

15. Waiting In The Wings

I do not have the same adoration some people do for it but it's clearly a banger, tbh the best Cass song even tho I've rated some higher here (but it's because there's other people in them)

16. I Will Make You Proud (reprise)

Can they start making these damn reprise longer I LOVE THE KEY CHANGE

17. I Will Make You Proud

I love itttt

18. Next Stop Anywhere

Honestly I feel it should be higher but I forgot so it's here instead asghdjdj i'm not remaking this but I love it (especially the Rapunzel and Eugene's parts because like. i'm me. ofc)

19. Wind In My Hair

It's stuck in my head like 70% of the time and i'm not even complaining about it

20. Through It All

I just…… love group numbers ghdhdjd it's catchy and i wish i could… idk, frame Eugene's "we all must heed the call" cause his voice is awesome here

21. Set Yourself Free

I really love Rapunzel that's all 🥺

22. Listen Up

Yes it's mostly useless but i love that song so much i can't explain it, IT GIVES ME ENERGY (also cap's moment is awesome gjfhfjgh)

23. Mother Knows Best

I'm all for upbeat and chilling villain songs, and Gothel's are amazing examples of that

24. If I Could Take This Moment Back

Okay I do like it and I do enjoy the angst but since it's like, nearly the only new dream duet in the series, I wish we got something better 😔 i like happy fun songs so much

25. When Will My Life Begin

It's such a nice song I know it by heart and I love it :')

26. The Girl Who Has Everything

I have Thoughts about this song and its meaning but it gave me the reprise and it's also very cute and catchy so I still listen to it quite often

27. Wind In My Hair (reprise)

It's soooo short but when she starts it up it's really amazing, it's just not that different from the og which is longer, so I tend to listen to the first one more

28. Life After Happily Ever After (reprise)

*listen to Rapunzel's part* *skip forward for 3000 years* *listen to the end* asfhdjdj Rapunzel's voice makes up for the annoyance tho i'm so proud of her

29. Something That I Want

Catchy, even though it doesn't really feel like tangled to me

30. Hurt Incantation

Literally one of the most fascinating twist of the series, it's not a song I listen to in itself but it's hella cool

31. Healing Incantation

Same, difficult to listen to it as a song but it's pretty and just… rapunzel singing it brokenly over Eugene's body haunts me ;-;

32. I Have A Dream

Group numbers my beloved <3 it ended a bit low on the list but idk i like it

33. The View From Up Here

It's cute idk what my brain has against it but i think it's the birds scaring me asgjdjjk no honestly i just think i have no emotional connection to it

34. I've Got This

Very plot focused song which is okay but it's just not really interesting to listen to it separate from the show, if that makes sense

35. More Of Me

A cool song but i just don't seek it out

36. I'd Give Anything

Pretty song but i cannot disconnect it from how stupid it is for Rapunzel's character arc so like, not the worse in melody but i avoid it

37. Friendship Song

I forget that it exists half the time… it really doesn't add much and i don't get why they made it 😅

38. Waiting In The Wings (reprise)

The only reprise that's actively worse than the original, both because of the twist and because the kid's voice just ain't it 😭

39. Living The Dream

I honestly don't care about it and Hookhand's an ass

40. Hookfoot's Ballad

Last on behalf of the ep making me believe that Eugene and Rapunzel were going to argue while singing and i got hookfoot instead. also it sucks

#thanks for the ask anon but genuinely my tastes in music are based on vibes and vibes alone #so i can't even explain my choices asgdhjdj #idk if anyone will have the courage to read all of that god asgjdjf if you did uh... u get a hug #ask #mine

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twinkbouttapounce · 4 years

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@geraltwhumpweek

TITLE: Think Happy Thoughts

PROMPT DAY: Day 2: Potions

MEDIUM (Netflix, Books, Games, Hexer): Netflix

WARNINGS: Recreational drug use, self harm, bad trip as viewed by a sober onlooker

SUMMARY: Geralt takes some White Gull in the woods while Jaskier supervises. His high is ruined before it even really begins.

WORD COUNT: 1,987

AUTHOR’S NOTES: researching does tend to be my favorite part of writing so I had a lot of fun with this one :) It can be read pre-relationship geraskier if you so choose.

Geralt was an anxious person, Jaskier had come to find, and as such it did not shock him in the slightest when Geralt expressed his habit of using certain perception-altering substances recreationally.

While they had done a number of said substances together, Jaskier had yet to see Geralt on White Gull. It was intriguing to learn that there were witcher-specific hallucinogens, and Jaskier had jumped at the opportunity to assist Geralt through his high.

He’s had a vague idea of what to expect. Geralt had given a brief overview of the standard effects, namely describing the warm floaty feeling he took the unfinished potion for. He would likely hallucinate, and he would be overly emotional, but he would be calm. The calm seemed to be Geralt’s favorite part, a stilling to the endless buzz in his head. Jaskier could definitely appreciate that, having tried a number of herbs and elixirs to still his own thoughts.

Geralt had taken the potion when they set up camp for the night, just before the sun had started to set. An hour later the effects began to take hold.

It started with a softening in Geralt’s eyes. Jaskier knew he took care to keep his pupils a relatively human size but seeing them expand wider, wider, until only a thin ring of gold surrounded the dewy black was a gorgeous experience. The giggling was the next most apparent. Geralt had a delightful way of wrinkling his nose when he giggled, though he never did it sober, and the sluggish way he paused before Jaskier’s jokes seemed to click made it all the better.

It was around when Geralt began contentedly staring off into space for lengthening periods of time that things started going downhill.

A couple passing through approached them, amicable as any until they saw Geralt. Even with his posture loose, armor shed, and expression soft it was clear who Geralt was. If his inhuman eyes were not enough, then his hair and nearby swords were, especially with how his reputation as the White Wolf had been gaining traction.

“Witcher,” they had hissed, and Geralt’s smile had faltered.

Seeing as he could hardly let passing strangers ruin his friend’s good mood Jaskier stood to intervene.

“How might I help you this evening?” He greeted, shifting their attention from Geralt to himself.

“We don’t need help from anyone who associates with that Butcher,” the husband had replied.

Jaskier would have had half a mind to fight the couple for that, however, he didn’t think Geralt would appreciate the effort even in his heightened state. He tried for diplomacy but the insults continued. Murderer, freak, demon, the words piled until Jaskier could tolerate no more.

“It’s getting rather late, if you don’t need anything I think it might be best for you to move along and find a nice place to camp, yeah?”

The couple seemed to deliberately miss the point, moving closer instead. It was only when Jaskier made casual mention of needing to help Geralt sharpen his swords that the pair took the hint and scurried off into the deepening night.

Jaskier sat back next to Geralt with a huff, some sarcastic comment on his tongue. The witcher tensed. Frowning, Jaskier followed the other’s gaze into the forest and found not so much as a falling leaf. Geralt started to shake and nervousness stirred in Jaskier’s belly. Geralt was supposed to be calm, not look minutes away from bursting into tears. He waved a hand in front of the witcher’s face and called his name in the hopes of inspiring a reaction.

Rather than turning to the bard or swatting at his hand Geralt shrunk in on himself, muttering a sheepish “I’m sorry.” Alarm reared its head in Jaskier’s chest. Geralt looked smaller than the bard had ever seen him as his large, unfocused eyes stared through something in the distance. The way the growing moonlight pooled in his eyes made Geralt look entirely too vulnerable.

Jaskier’s nerves multiplied. He knelt before Geralt and put his hands on the witcher’s knees. Geralt flinched back from the touch, near falling over the log he had been sitting on. Jaskier hesitantly called for him again, only for Geralt to scramble back, more apologies falling from his lips.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he begged. “I tried not to, I tried—”

Geralt cut off suddenly and his head whipped to one side.

“Geralt, you’re scaring me. I need you to talk to me.” Jaskier ignored the shake in his voice as he tried again.

The witcher gave no sign of acknowledgment. His hands dug into the ground, a hurt expression morphing features that had been so relaxed less than an hour ago. Geralt flinched away from nothing. A whimper built in his throat until it became a sob.

When the first tears ran down Geralt’s face Jaskier began panicking in earnest. Geralt reached for his swords with desperate hands and Jaskierer lunged to get to them first. Nothing good could come of Geralt having a weapon at the moment. He ignored Geralt’s sob, threw the swords as far as he could, and rushed into their tent for a blanket. Jaskier wrapped Geralt in the fabric before half dragging him onto a bedroll.

In need of some release for his nervous energy, Jaskier talked. He couldn’t be sure what Geralt was seeing, only that it scared him, made the witcher look young and afraid. His hands ran over Geralt’s back as the man rocked. For every apology from Geralt, there was a reassurance that he had done his best from Jaskier.

Geralt’s crying subsided eventually, replaced by an uneasy silence. Jaskier laid an arm over the man’s shoulders and pulled him close. The witcher shook where he was pressed into Jaskier’s side, and, unsure what else to do, he began humming a lullaby. For a bit, it seemed Geralt might have gotten through the worst of it.

When Jaskier was close to nodding off Geralt suddenly began thrashing. He cried out as if struck, fought to rid himself of the blanket and make it out the tent. The witcher stumbled to find his swords again. The nearest blade happened to be Jaskier’s knife, on the ground near where they had been sitting earlier. Geralt unsheathed the dagger and brought it to his arm. Blood welled over the skin before Jaskier could intervene, and Geralt raised the knife to slash at his arm once more.

At his best, Jaskier may not have stood a chance against the witcher, but Geralt wasn’t at his best. The bard tackled him from behind and Geralt howled. He bucked, an uncoordinated wildness to his actions, but Jaskier held on. He wrestled the knife from Geralt’s white knuckles, threw it away, and managed to pin Geralt’s wrists beneath his knees with the use of his full weight.

The broken cries that fell from Geralt’s mouth made Jaskier’s chest ache but he held steady. He had seen the scars on Geralt’s thighs and knew no monster or person could be responsible for the sheer number except Geralt himself. With his judgment impaired Jaskier couldn’t dare to hope Geralt would hold any care for his own safety. It was only after the witcher fell into another crying spell that Jaskier moved. Slowly, the bard let Geralt go bit by bit. When he was fully disentangled Jaskier stood.

With frantic motions, Jaskier gathered anything his panicked brain recognized as dangerous and threw it into Roach’s saddlebag. He fastened the bag to Roach, forgoing any of her riding gear in favor of getting back to Geralt sooner. He petted her nose in thanks before rushing back to the tent, assured that should Geralt try to hurt himself he would need to hunt Roach down first.

When Jaskier returned to Geralt the witcher was scratching angry red marks into his arms as he hugged himself. A litany of pleads, apologies and disconnected words fell from Geralt’s mouth, a match to the tears falling from his eyes

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathed.

He pulled Geralt’s hands away from the bloody lines and held them to his own chest. Geralt looked at him and Jaskier let himself hope it was with recognition. The witcher’s eyes locked onto Jaskier’s throat.

“I’m sorry, Jask,” he said.

It was in no way the recognition Jaskier had wanted. He tried to assure Geralt he was fine, that he had long forgiven him for his misspoken wish, but Geralt’s eyes were still unfocused and he had no way to be sure his words were coming through.

The rest of the night proceeded in similar bouts of activity and stillness. Jaskier alternated between pinning Geralt’s hands and stroking his back. Geralt fell asleep sometime in the early morning before dawn, clutching Jaskier to his chest. When the sun rose and Geralt opened his tear-puffy eyes again the bard felt the tension of the night finally leave him.

“Back with me Dearheart?” Jaskier asked sleepily.

Geralt nodded, eyes still unguarded but aware.

“I… I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”

Jaskier hummed and pulled Geralt closer. Of course it wasn’t supposed to go like that, he wanted to say. Instead, he asked, “Are you ok?”

Geralt seemed shocked by Jaskier’s question but nodded hesitantly. Memories of Geralt shouting with terrified eyes, of pulling the witcher’s hands from bloody tears in his skin, plagued Jaskier’s mind despite the exhaustion weighing on his body.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he started. “But it might do some good to talk about what you saw. You were yelling a lot but I couldn’t figure out what at.”

Geralt looked away and a shudder ran through him. He was quiet for a long time, long enough Jaskier thought he might be stubborn and refuse to talk. When Geralt finally spoke his voice was faint and heavy with emotion.

“Just… people. People I let down. You, Vesemir, Visenna, Ren—” he cut himself off and restarted. “People that died because of me and… the Trials. A lot of boys died during the Trials.”

Jaskier was hardly awake enough to process the enormity of Geralt’s near ninety years of cumulative guilt but he knew Geralt needed him, so he gave it his best.

“You haven’t let me down. And I’m not dead. The one time you almost killed me you didn’t, and every other time I’ve nearly died you’ve kept it from happening. I’ve met Vesemir, and I don’t think he would say you’ve let him down either. Also your mother is a thistle worth less than the ground she grows in. Fuck her and her opinions.”

It wasn’t his most eloquent, but it was enough for Geralt to look at him again. Fear seeped from the witcher’s shoulders in little measures until he looked himself again, no longer scared and young, but with hints of vulnerability still clinging.

“Right, let’s get you cleaned up,” Jaskier said after a moment. “You hurt yourself a couple times, got me all in a huff and covered in blood.”

Geralt looked down and made a face as if he were only just realizing how his arms ached. Jaskier gathered a cloth and one of their water skins then wiped away the flaking blood. He could feel Geralt watching him as he worked but paid him no mind. He needed a nap. When the cloth stopped coming away red Jaskier spread salve over the wounds, careful of the uneven redness around Geralt’s biceps where he had scratched himself. The bard pressed a kiss to each cut when he finished.

“matter to me,” Jaskier muttered between kisses, “You’re good and strong and beautiful and so brave. There is no shame in doing your best to help people.”

Geralt stared incredulously until the last of his injuries were cared for.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, you make me feel like a real person,” he said.

#jaskier #geralt #geralt x jaskier #fic #geralt whump week #recreational drug use #drug use tw #self harm tw #geralt z rivii #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher #witcher #netflix witcher #the witcher netflix #my fic

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i-write-shakespeare-not-disney · 4 years

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Directory’s Commentary- Love for You, Keith and Lance talk in the car

You know the drill :)

A while later, Keith came back and shut the console off mid-game. Keep in mind that by now, Keith has been sitting with the information that Lance had a panic attack AND never told him for a while. After everything else and trying to do better, he’s annoyed as hell now and hence... no patience. “What the hell?” Lance snapped. He wasn’t so much angry that he’d been playing, but the fact that Keith had hardly talked to him since he got back and simply decided to disconnect the game instead of asking Lance to pause it. “What was that for?”

“We need to talk.” Lance stared at him, and Keith gestured to the door. “Outside. The last thing I need is for the kids to wake up.” And also, he wants to stop fighting in front of them, because the last time they argued inside, Violet got really upset if I recall correctly. It’s an attempt to shield them from arguments.

Lance scoffed and got up to follow him outside. They got into Keith’s car and stared at the front of their house for a while. “What the hell happened?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been getting panic attacks in the middle of the day?” Keith asked in a flat voice. Y’all ever realize how when someone is pissed, it’s scarier for their voice to be all calm and quiet as opposed to loud and angry? Yeah. Keith is now at quiet voice anger. Lance frowned, unsure of what he meant. “Why didn’t you tell me… you can’t handle watching the boys?” He only got Violet’s understanding of it, so to Keith, it’s like Lance couldn’t handle the boys on his own because of the trauma, which he feels Lance should’ve told him. Lance meanwhile takes this as a jab at his parenting. Keith finally turned to look at him, his face bathed in moonlight. “Why do I have to hear it from my concerned, eleven-year-old daughter?” Then what upsets Keith is that Violet got subjected to seeing it and dealing with the worry on her own for Keith’s sake. There’s things younger children should have to do or feel obligated to do, and Keith- having never gotten a decent childhood- doesn’t want his daughter sacrificing any bit of childhood for them. Plus what he says later-

Lance clenched his jaw and ran a hand through his hair. “I can handle taking care of my sons,” he muttered. “And she’s my daughter too. The whole “My eleven year old.... etc” felt like another jab. Like he wasn’t part of it or something. And granted, because Keith had them, he has this extra sense of protectiveness, which isn’t to say he loves them more than Lance or anything, but y’know for Lance it’s like... what I didn’t have them so I’m not part of this conversation? It feels territorial which isn’t fair because they’re his kids too. What did she tell you?” Lance just wants to know what he needs to clear up, but of course to Keith it’s like wjhkadsjfakfj WHAT DO YOU MEAN just tell me what the fuck happened like you should’ve WHEN it happened!!!

“Why don’t you tell me?” Keith snapped.

Lance looked over at him and glared. “I freaked out for a second, okay? It happened once; it doesn’t mean I can’t handle my kids. Violet freaked a little, but I was fine-”

“You told her not to tell me!” Keith yelled. THIS is a big yikes. From personal experience, there is ALWAYS a sense of guilt and confusion and fear when a parent tells you to keep something secret from the other. Lance had NO malicious intentions, but it’s still heavy for a kid, and once Keith found out it just felt.... well like being lied to and roping their kid into it.

“Because you don’t listen!” Lance yelled back. Lance does feel justified because he DID want to tell Keith himself, but Keith never opened a space for him to talk. So now they’re both just pointing fingers at each other. “Because no matter how many times I tell you I can’t sleep or I don’t want to, it just seems so easy to you. Just send me to sleep every time I get a little frustrated, because you’re not the one with the fucking nightmares!”

“They would go away if you-”

“No they won’t!” Lance shouted, hitting the dashboard. “Fuck. Keith, come on. I don’t want a fucking psychologist because I know what’s wrong with me. I know I’m traumatized, I know that…. Talking about this shit with someone isn’t going to make the nightmares stop. I don’t want to be given medication meant to numb my brain until I sleep. These aren’t stopping until I make it past the fucking cycle. What I want is to be comforted by my husband, to be with my family, not have my brain picked at by a stranger telling me I’ll be okay!”Per usual, I really want both sides to make sense and be justified. I need Keith’s side of “you should have told me, why did you hide this AND tell Violet not to tell me” to be valid and I need Lance’s pain and anger of everything he just said to make sense too. And what makes them clash is the lack of communication and the different stages they’re in. Keith is expecting Lance to be able to just act on the problems and work for a solution and tell him things, but Lance needs him there giving him a space to safely tell him what he’s going through and give him the comfort he needs at a pace. Keith isn’t giving Lance a chance to say what he needs, but Lance also isn’t bringing it to Keith’s attention and he’s putting on a face so Keith doesn’t realize what he needs. As you can see it starts to go in circles. And right now that he IS telling Keith, it’s like.... Keith is in a very angry and frustrated state now and he’s taking Lance’s tone and words as an accusation. Like he’s not a good enough partner or parent rather than a cry for help.

“What happens if the next time you panic, you hurt Charlie or Oliver?” Keith said in a quiet voice. “What, I’m supposed to come home and shrug and say it’s fine because you’re having a hard time?” Another fair point. Things could have gotten really bad if Violet hadn’t arrived, and it’s a valid concern. Keith as a parent definitely prioritizes the kids over anything, so while he’s now aware of what Lance says, he’s also pointing out that by not telling him before, the kids could’ve been in danger in some way because of a PTSD episode.

“I’m not going to hurt them.”

“You don’t know that.” Keith sniffed and ran his hands through his hair. “God, Lance. You think you’re the only one traumatized? I was in the war with you. I jump when I hear certain ringtones and alarms because they sound like the sirens in the Castle. I have to stop and breathe when the construction workers next door are a little too loud demolishing shit because it sounds like the blasters. I’m there with you. Keith’s trying to say “we’re in this together” but with how upset he is, it’s not coming across. But he’s also trying to remind Lance that he’s not weak or dumb for struggling, that he is too. Because Keith thinks that shame is part of why he won’t say anything. I get nightmares too. But you’re…. You’re losing sleep. You’re having these panic attacks and flashbacks in the middle of the day when you’re alone with the kids-” The argument was STARTING to de-escalate here, or at least Keith was trying to reel it back and take on a more comforting approach, but again, to Lance it just sounded like Keith was blaming him. For not handling it, for struggling too much with PTSD in comparison, for bad parenting, etc.

“Maybe if you stayed home I wouldn’t be alone.” Then this happened.

The change in Keith’s face was immediate, and it made Lance’s stomach churn. He knows Keith’s expressions by now. He knows that this means anger there’s no coming back from tonight. “Goddammit. This again?” he hissed.

“I-I know you want to provide for us, Keith, but…. God, I don’t care about how much money we have or how many luxuries we can afford. I just want you here with us like you’ve been this week-”

“You’re the one always talking about giving the kids more than what we had!” Keith exclaimed. “For fuck’s sake make up your mind! It is a lot of back and forth with of them, isn’t it? I don’t like being home all day, Lance, I need to be doing something. So.... The “I don’t like being home” came across in the worst way for Lance. To Lance, this was “I don’t like being home with you. I don’t like our home. I need to be away from the house, from you.” But Keith meant it in the sense that... he can’t be still. He can’t be stagnant. He has to be doing something besides trying to figure out how to pass the days, especially when Violet’s at school. While Lance enjoys being home with the kids and figuring out games and knows how to pass the hours, Keith just can’t. Sit still. Working gives me a routine, and it gives me the chance to give the kids things they need and things they want. And even then we’re still barely making it because we spend on so many pointless things-” I just hear this from so many adults in my life. They’re always working for more money, and when they have it they get so excited they spend it all, and then it’s a struggle with no money again and over and over.

“Alright! Whatever. You’ll go right back to work Monday and it’ll be the same as ever,” Lance muttered. In my head, the underlying message in that sentence was “Shut up, soon you’ll go back to work and none of this will matter because you won’t have to deal with it.” “The nightmares will stop soon. We’ll just go right back to normal.” Normal for Lance is... well, the routine. But as mentioned before during the sleepover, normal isn’t okay for Keith anymore. It’s scaring him. So he stays quiet.

Keith didn’t say anything to that. Lance wasn’t sure if he expected him to. But he knew what he didn’t expect was for Keith to get out of the car and leave him alone. The silence says a lot. But leaving I think says more. I can’t even put into words the emotion or the intent or the unspoken words I wanted here. I think that sense of someone just walking out on you says a lot and I hope that it causes the emotion I wanted. I just know my heart falls to my stomach at the concept of Keith leaving Lance alone, and Idk. It’s something I can’t fully express in words, so I left it as an action. Lance stared at the dash for a moment, feeling sick to his stomach. Then he got out of the car, manually locking it before he went back into the house.

#director's commentary

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matildaisautisticandproud · 4 years

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April 14th-18th - 30 Days of Autism Acceptance

April 14: What would you like other people to be more aware of when it comes to autism?

There are many things I wish other people were aware of when it comes to autism, but the biggest thing I want people to know is that we’re all different and have different needs, but we’re still human just like you nevertheless.

April 15: Free day! Write about any topic you want!

As I’ve mentioned previously, I have been diagnosed with (Central) Auditory Processing Disorder or (C)APD. The reason I put the “C” in parenthesis is because I’ve seen it called both CAPD and APD interchangeably. Anyways, this is when there is a disconnect between the ears and the brain basically; my ears are fully functional, but my brain has trouble processing language, especially so when there’s background noise.

On a practical, everyday perspective, this disorder makes it harder for me to understand what people are saying because what they say just sounds like a garbled mess. There was a video someone did a while ago and they spoke gibberish in several different languages to show native speakers what it sounds like when they’re speaking to non-native speakers. They weren’t actually saying real words, but speaking in gibberish in such a way that it mimicked how the languages sound. My mother language is English so, the one they did on English is exactly what words sound like to me sometimes. It sounds like English and it sounds like words, but I can’t comprehend what’s said because it’s perceived by me as garbled gibberish. I can’t help it.

Furthermore, I have greatly difficulty understanding media involving audio, especially so songs. Even if the backing track is hardly there, I still struggle to actually make out what the singer is saying. That’s why I rely on looking up the lyrics of songs if I liked them after initially being exposed to it. Also, I always put closed captioning on whenever possible when watching shows, YouTube videos, and so on; doing so ensures that I am able to fully comprehend what is being said.

If you have any questions, please ask! :)

April 16: Do you experience hyper empathy or low empathy? Talk about it. What is it like?

I believe I experience hyper empathy, but I’m not sure. I very easily pick up on others’ emotions and they impact me (i.e. if someone’s anxious, I’ll get anxious), but yet I struggle immensely to understand the emotions of other people to the point I grow terribly defensive. Maybe I’m not highly empathetic, but hyper sensitive to the emotions of other people? I really don’t have a proper answer.

April 17: Have you experienced ableism before? If so, how did it feel and how did you handle it?

Well, there’s been only a few instances in which I’ve experienced this. One notable time was when I was struggling to handle the presence of the large crowd, noise, and temperature (I am super sensitive to temperature changes and freak out when it gets too hot; I can’t stand heat whatsoever.) at this one family gathering I was at. So, I excused myself and went to find a more quiet place at the park we were at to collect my bearings. When I came back, I managed to catch a piece of a conversation between two family members I hardly know. This is heavily paraphrased, but it went something like this:

A - “What was Matilda’s deal?”

B - “I heard she’s autistic or something like that.”

A - “She doesn’t look it. And shouldn’t she be acting more mature if she’s an adult? Autism is no excuse.”

B - “I know. Why can’t she just deal?”

Let’s just say, I’m glad I don’t really know those people. The worst part is this happened not too long after my official diagnosis. It was terrible. I never did address the situation, but it sure did ruin my day. The thing was, I was being mature by excusing myself. I’m sure they’d have much more to say if I had allowed myself to endure the situation until I blew up at somebody or started crying.

Another instance is when I told a now ex-friend that I was officially autistic and with the straightest face possible, she said, “No you’re not.”

April 18: Discuss how you felt when you felt when you first learnt you were autistic vs how you feel now.

When I was first diagnosed, I was both overwhelmed and relieved. I was relieved because I finally had an answer to why I was struggling so much, but I was also overwhelmed because now I had an answer and a label. I was officially “disabled”. It took me a little bit to accept the fact that I am different and I will struggle in different areas; I didn’t like that I had to endure all these struggles while others got it easy. I’m no longer that petty.

Now, I’ve come to terms with my diagnosis and have actually embraced it. Obviously, I’ve decided to spread awareness and acceptance of this condition and hope to continue to do so for the years to come. As long as I can better one life or educate one person, I’m happy. I just want to help and this is the way I’ve chosen. This is the only way I can adequately help people anyways XD.

As always, love yourself, whoever you are (whether you’re neurodivergent or not, disabled or not, etc.)! :)

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

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752.

Does your best friend bother you more than anyone else? >> --- Who is your best friend? >> --- Do you like someone right now? >> No. Do you even think you stand a chance with this person? >> --- Do you consider yourself truly happy? >> I don’t think of “happiness” as a constant state of being. It’s an emotion like any other -- you feel happy for a period of time, and then you return to baseline or you have a different emotion. So, yeah, sometimes I am happy. A lot of the time I’m something else (or nothing). Feeling one emotion all the time at the expense of others would be awful no matter what the emotion is.

How often do you cry? >> Relatively often, lately. It’s like once you decide to stop berating yourself for having feelings, you start just having them randomly and shit. I teared up watching a youtube video yesterday and it took me a couple of minutes to figure out that it was probably the effect of the music used in the video (he used a lot of that kind of “dramatic emotional moment” music that they use in movies to cue to your brain that you’re supposed to have An Emotion right now). Are you emotional? >> I mean, yes, I experience emotions... What is the worst thing you would do for 10 million dollars? >> No. Have you ever had/do you have an eating disorder? >> No. Have you ever cut/burned yourself intentionally? >> Yep. What do you think of people that do? >> I don’t have an opinion about other self-injurers? We all just tryna survive. What’s your opinion on drugs? Have you ever done any? >> I don’t have an opinion on drugs. Like, in general, I don’t have sweeping opinions on any broad subject like this! It doesn’t make sense to me and I am constantly frustrated at being asked what I think about a general concept as if my thoughts shouldn’t be based on contextual information and a basic understanding of nuance. Anyway. Yes, I’ve done drugs. Have you ever noticed the hidden adult jokes inside of kid shows/movies? >> Sure. Do you want to be famous? Why? >> Not at all. Because included amongst my highest values are my privacy and my ability to live my life on my own terms as much as possible. Also, it just flat-out doesn’t seem like a healthy way to live.

Do you sin often? >> Dude. What are your views on God? >> I don’t have any sweeping views on the concept of divinity. My opinion about the Abrahamic God specifically varies based upon what we’re talking about -- what holy text, what cultural interpretation, what sort of human-divine relationship, etc. What do you think happens after you die? >> My working interpretation is that the specific network that I think of as my consciousness will dissipate and that energy will rejoin the general concept of “consciousness”, from which every specific instance of consciousness arises. So to speak. Also, my body will decay (provided I’m not chemically processed and shut up in a metal box), worms will eat me, etc etc. Are you afraid to die? >> Yeah. But my feelings about death are more aptly described as, like, “holy dread”, or the kind of fear that is part-and-parcel with a strong feeling of awe and wonder. If you had the chance, would you want to know the date of your death? >> Fuck no, dude. Have you ever felt that you weren’t good enough? >> Yep. Do you have any siblings? If so, are you jealous of them? >> --- Do you have a good relationship with your parents? Why or why not? >> I don’t have any relationship with them. Because one abandoned me at birth and the other one flat-out doesn’t like who I am as a person.

Are you always wanting more? >> Sure. Hunger is one of my defining concepts. Do you make good first impressions? >> I don’t think I do, no, because I’m not interested in following certain social conventions that people expect me to. That’s not to say I’m rude, but when you refuse to shake hands, you don’t stare in people’s eyeballs, and you don’t smile at literally everything, people get tetchy. Do you feel bad for obese people, or do you just laugh? I am so unimpressed with this question. <-- like.... what the actual fuck. What would you do if you were obese? >> What do you mean, what would I do? Am I supposed to be doing something specific just because I’m fat? Like, you know, hate myself for existing in a way that isn’t acceptable to the society I live in? Bloody hell. Are you ashamed of your past? >> No. Do you miss your past? >> “My past” isn’t a real thing, it’s a story that my brain tells itself. There’s nothing to miss. Do you have a song lyric that describes where you are in life right now? >> If I did, there’s no way I’d be able to think of it right now. Who are you closest to in your family? >> --- Do you ever open up to people? >> Ever? Maybe. It’s always a possibility, if not a probability. Do you consider yourself guarded? Why or why not? >> Absolutely. Because I’m post-traumatic, that’s why. Are you an honest person? >> Sure. Do you like animals? >> I mean, I don’t actively hate animals or anything. I don’t have any specific feelings about the existence of other creatures on the planet.

Do you think doctors prescribe medicine too often? >> I wouldn’t know. I think that’s an opinion people assert when they are following an anti-meds agenda, but it’s not necessarily grounded in provable fact. Are you a control freak? >> I have tendencies. Do you enjoy getting drunk, or do you feel like you’re losing all control? >> No. I enjoy the buzz from a certain amount of alcohol, but anything beyond that is uninteresting and often annoying. I don’t feel like I’m losing control, exactly, I just feel logy and tired and irritable. Also, headaches. What do you think happens when you go into a coma? >> I assume it varies. Do you think the internet is dangerous? >> The potential for danger is always present when interacting with other people in any context, including digital.

Name all the social networking sites you use: >> Tumblr and Facebook are the only ones I use. Do you think anyone truly knows who you really are? >> “Who I really am” isn’t a concept that I find useful. People learn different things about me, are exposed to different personality traits and idiosyncrasies at different times, and filter all that knowledge through their own perceptions and biases and understandings. There is a different version of me for every person that perceives me, including myself, and all those versions are part of the intersocial network that forms the concept of “me”. (I’m sure if I lived completely alone in the middle of nowhere and had no contact with any other humans, my concept of myself would grow into something completely different -- it might grow even more fluid and less anthropomorphic, because the concept of the self is reinforced by our interactions with others.) Have you ever given anyone the chance to really get to know you? >> Sigh. Do you block people out of your life when they start to get too close? >> I don’t know, people getting close isn’t a situation I’m too familiar with these days. Who do you think has the most pressure to be good-looking; guys or girls? I think both experience a lot of pressure in very different ways. It’s not a contest. <-- Do you care what impression you make on people? >> Sometimes, depending on the person. Most of the time I understand that a lot of it is out of my control, unless I’m willing to do some things I really don’t want to do. Do you think TV is too much of an influence on today’s youth? >> I think That’s Complicated(tm). What do you think people would do if all the computers crashed? >> Like, if all computers stopped working at the same time? How... would that even happen, is my question. Unless something happened to the grid in general, or something. Any wide-scale breakdown of digital infrastructure would have immediate negative repercussions in this part of the world, though, I can wager that much. Honestly, do you say racist things? >> I can’t think of anything racist I’ve said in recent memory. Aside from your general “white people” jokes, I guess. I try to keep those to a minimum, though, because most of the time it’s just... unnecessary. Do your parents put way too much pressure on you? >> --- Has anyone you loved ever died? >> Sure. Do you think people overreact when their pets die? >> I don’t think people overreact at all. I think it’s the appropriate reaction, to be upset and to grieve. I think my disconnection to pets is stranger than normal people’s connection to them, which is why I’m always self-conscious about my detachment. People don’t like it when you don’t have feelings. Do you know who you are, or what you want to become? >> *gestures in frustration at my earlier ramble about selfhood* Do you have your future mapped out? Or are you just taking it day by day? >> I find the concept of planning out one’s future to be a little silly, although I understand it’s a perfectly reasonable and healthy thing for a human to do. It just... doesn’t work for me. The only stretch of time I can be confident of is the present, and even that’s questionable sometimes. What are you going to do now? >> I think I might go out for a short walk now, the temperature’s at a good place. I wish I could go somewhere specific -- a park would be incredible right now -- but I can’t be getting on public transportation for non-essential purposes. And I can’t go to the convenience store... Guess I’ll just... walk down the sidewalk and then back *shrug* (This would be a great time to have a dog to walk.)

#surveys #survey #random survey

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maree-ff · 5 years

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Como Estan?: Part I

CAMILA

Staring at the clock I nibbled at my thumb nail tasting the polish against my tongue. I’ve been eyeballing the clock ever since I watched the boys leave the house. Jorden was scheduled to take his driving test this morning and although he’s been preparing since last year, I’m nervous! Ever since Jorden spoke his first words in Spanish he’s been progressing so much faster. However, his lisp is still heavily intact and he still needs time to learn and process information on certain subjects.

Watching Jorden transition from newborn to infant to toddler to child and finally to a teenager has been such an emotional roller coaster. There’s been so many changes in him that I’ve had to adjust to over the years. It’s hard to come to terms with him being sixteen years old now.

I often forget how old Andre and I are but once a birthday rolls around for one of our kids, I swear I have an emotional meltdown. Thank goodness for great genes, a healthy sex life, my wonderful diet, continuous exercise and a stress free life or else I’d look so run down. Aside from the growth of my babies, my world has remained at peace.

Hearing heavy footsteps draw closer I wiped my eyes and shuffled around in the kitchen. Andre has been joking around a lot more than usual about every little thing and I’ve felt so disconnected and bothered to every punch line. It’s nearing that time of the month for me so of course I’m feeling overly emotional and withdrawn. At least towards him. Around the kids I’m a little sweeter.

Jorden taking that test to determine whether or not he can drive is shaking me to my core. The last thing I want is for Jorden to believe that I’m not happy for him or that I don’t support his desire to have more freedom. That’s not the case by any means. I’m just scared that he’s going to come home defeated and with terrible news. Every encounter he has with new people in the world has always had me on the edge of my seat. Just like I spoke on when he was four, I didn’t send Jorden to public school like his sisters. I couldn’t bear the thought of kids teasing him or teachers treating him like he was slow.

I searched high and low for an awesome home school teacher and when I did I begged her for her services. Coincidentally she was teaching a few other kids who were exactly like my baby boy at the time. Andre and I argued for a while about granting Jorden the access to having social interaction with kids his age. He has always had that. Not once have I robbed our son of the opportunity to have a social life. I had my many reasons for Jorden and for myself about why I didn’t want to send him to public school. Sadly when Jorden turned thirteen he began begging to go to school in a setting where he can meet other kids at every turn. He wanted the typical classroom, ride the school bus, have gym class with the cute girl experience.

Of course I gave in. I couldn’t tell Jorden no. After Andre and I talked we decided on private school. The most accredited, diverse and costly private school in the state of California has been Jorden's home for the last three years.

“Baby, where you at?” Andre yelling throughout the house for me shook me up. I can’t wait to get through these next five days of hell so I can go back to normal!

“I’m upstairs babe.” Taking a deep breath I opened the refrigerator to find something to take my mind off of Jorden’s test. The anxiety is kicking into overdrive and I need to tame it before I snap on this sweet man of mine.

“Hey..you’re avoiding me again. You know that right?” He started off.

I glanced over my right shoulder seeing him sport a look of dissatisfaction.

“Aw honey I’m sorry..” closing the refrigerator I turned around to find him standing directly behind me. I jumped and used the appliance for support. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’m on edge and I hope you understand why.” I explained.

“Of course I do. You’re waiting for Jo to get home so we can find out how the test went and you're about to get a visit from the bitch from hell.” There he goes again with the jokes. This one actually made me laugh though.

Playfully punching him in the stomach I traded the fridge for his body to support my weight. “You’re not funny, asshole.”

“Clearly I’m a little funny or else you wouldn’t have laughed. Is there something else bothering you that I should know about?” He asked, wrapping both arms around me. I disagreed and wedged my face in between his chest and arm so he couldn’t see my face. Kissing my hairline he separated us. “Come on Cam, seriously. What else is going on? You don’t think he did okay?” He pressed the issue with concern.

Meeting his eyes I shrugged. My response was pathetic but it was a gut reaction. “I’m not doubting that he passed. I’m doubtful of the other people around him. Don’t you worry that people treat him like he’s beneath them when we’re not around? The possibility of Jorden being bullied by any means or ran up on doesn’t keep you up at night? Even a little bit?” I questioned.

“I’d be lying if I said no. Camila, of course I worry. But I know Jorden well enough to trust in his abilities to brush that shit off. He’s a tough kid. He’s got very thick skin and I know he can handle himself by any means. We raised him to have faith in himself. We raised him to never allow anyone, us included, to deter him away from his goals and dreams.” Hearing Dre confirm that he’s just as concerned as I am about how our son is treated put me in a positive headspace.

“All I have ever wanted for our kids is for them to be given a fair chance. Jorden especially. He’s never been like any kid I’ve ever met and being that he’s ours I want to him to know that I’m always fighting for him. I want him to know that we are always fighting to honor his name and his right to be treated fairly. I don’t care how old any of us get. Our kids are our babies. At least to me they always will be.” I felt emotions slap me in the face as tears rolled down both cheeks. The liquid made contact with my collarbones and flowed on down from there.

Andre coddles me exactly the way I desire. He provides me with more than enough affection when I’m feeling overly sensitive.

“Mom..pop..where are you?!” The sound of Jorden’s voice made the hair on my arms stand up.

“He’s home. He’s back, Dre!” I panicked. I squeezed and clenched at his shirt sleeves listening to Jorden walk up the stairs.

“I know that baby I can hear him too you know. Relax, don’t let him see you all worked up remember? We talked about this.” He coached me through my miniature episode and hugged me tighter.

Jorden appeared in front us and as much as I wanted to spazz and get answers out of him, I remained put.

“Hi baby. How was your day?” I quizzed him in a soothing yet normally toned voice. I masked my concern so he wouldn’t be alarmed.

He hesitated, “productive but good. Can’t complain. What’s wrong?” He asked. I watched him set his things down as Brix and Blu made their entrance.

“Nothing, I’m fine. So..” I trained off.

“How did it go?” Dre spoke up. His hands drawing circles on my lower and upper back keep me locked in place.

“It went good. I passed.” This beautiful and grand smile of relief on my baby’s face set me off. I burst into tears as I allowed the good news to register in my brain.

“Ma, why you are crying? Are you not happy that I passed?” He freaked.

Snapping my head up and breaking away from Andre I closed the distance between Jo and I. I hugged him close, smelling his new favorite body wash on his clothes. I can’t believe my youngest child can legally drive without another adult present in a vehicle now.

“Mom..talk to me. Estas asustando a mi.” Jorden spoke in my ear, hugging me firmly.

Disagreeing I rocked us from side to side. Cupping the back of his head I turned my face to lay against his shoulder. “No baby, I am so happy for you. Estoy tan orgulloso de ti.” I whispered.

“Thank you mama. I couldn’t come home without good news. After all, I have been studying for this test since last year. I’m just happy that you and dad are proud of me.” We hugged a bit longer and separated so he and Andre could have their own moment.

“I told you, didn’t I boy?” Dre laughed.

“Yeah yeah whatever. I told you!” Jo and Andre struck up playful, stupid conversation about who was right over who. I however still have some questions.

“Were they rude to you up there? I mean did anyone give you a hard time?” Playing with my hair I leaned against the counter feeling Brix sit next to me.

“Not really, no.” Jorden denied.

“Not really? What do you mean “not really”?

“Okay..well there was one dude who kept staring at me funny when my proctor was going over some of the rules before we went out on the road. I’m not sure why he was grilling me so hard. Maybe because I asked the lady to repeat herself four times but I didn’t let him get under my skin. Other than that all else was cool. No complaints.” Jorden had this look on his face that begged for me not to flip out or press him for more information.

“All that matters is that you passed. What you wanna do tonight? In honor of your good news, we can go wherever you want and do whatever you want.” Andre’s proposal sparked so much excitement in Jorden’s eyes.

“There are limits, you two.” I warned.

“I’m a grown ass man so limits don’t apply to me. So what do you-”

“Daddy!” Zoe’s voice spooked us all.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Andre shuffled to the kitchen entrance at the sound of Zoe rushing around to find us.

“Mom! Jo! Where are you guys?” Zoe continued to yell and run throughout the house.

“Zo, what are you doing here? I thought you had to work today?” Dre quizzed. I stepped around Brix to see Zoe and Andre talking.

“Never mind that! I can’t get ahold of Kenja.” She clutched the stair railing while fixing her top. Recalling her mentioning Kenja I walked closer to them.

“What do you mean you can’t reach her? She just got a new phone and I know the area she lives in works well with her service. How long have you been trying to get a hold of her?” I’m doing my absolute best to not think too seriously into this situation but this isn’t a light subject matter.

“I’ve called her over fifty times and not one of my calls was answered! I’m scared but I don’t know what else to do!” She rambled.

“Camila, you need to change. Jo, call your grandfather and Zoe you get in the truck. Go.” All of us broke off into a frenzy to get out of this house and an hour down the road. I ransacked through my wardrobe throwing on a modest outfit.

“Andre, I’m scar-”

“Maree, not now, okay? Finished getting dressed and let’s go.” His warning reeked of panic but he’s trying to mask it so I don’t have a panic attack. I did as he said to do but stood still watching to him pace.

“Andre..” I sighed. He turned to face me no longer capable of denying how I feel about what’s currently happening. Andre and I huddled together not using words to fill in the silence. Every fiber in my being is screaming that Kenja is in trouble. The look in Andre’s eyes is telling me that he’s thinking the exact same thing.

With no regard at all I set free the tears as my only way of showcasing what I’m thinking.

“Camila, stop it. You can’t think like that. She’s fine. Our little girl is okay.” He pet my hair and encouraged me to think positively.

“But babe what if she’s not? What if she’s no-”

“Camila, stop it! Don’t think like that. Put your shoes on. We have to go.” I listened to him knowing that he means well. I hurriedly slid my feet into a pair of sneakers, following him downstairs. Once we were in the truck I decided to try Kenja’s cell, hopeful that she would answer.

I left her a voicemail and held onto my cell with a vice grip during the drive to her apartment. Andre to my surprise drove the speed limit not once flooring it on the gas. Each of us were on edge in different ways. My worst fear is for either one of my kids to become a victim to domestic violence by anyone for any reason. Kenja, since she witnessed the first hand what Damon did to the both of us. In Zoe’s case, she involuntarily fell victim to being molested at a young age. Not only that but Chris murdered her birth mother. Graciously, my son has not had been harmed in any way.

Although my daughters are old enough to make their own decisions regarding relationships, I will always worry about them. Nothing can eliminate that fear I have deep rooted inside of me.

When we made it a visitor spot just outside her building I saw cops and emergency responders. I didn’t hesitate to jump out of the passenger seat and make a break for it up to her floor. I’ve never ran this fast in my entire life. I’ve never had to until this moment. From behind I could hear both of my kids and Andre yelling my name but I didn’t care. I pushed my way through everyone not bothering to explain my urgency. One of the officers tried grabbing me and I lunged at him. I didn’t actually hit him but I did shove him with every ounce of strength I had. For a guy his size, he stumbled and lost his footing. Ducking under the yellow tape I scrambled through Kenja’s apartment looking high and low for her.

“Ma’am, you cannot be back here. This is a crime scene.” Someone tried warning me.

Swiftly turning around I caught my breath before speaking. “Stay the fuck out of my way!” I barked at him.

Walking away from him I zipped through the remainder of Kenja’s place finding her passed out on the floor by her bed. Normally my fight or flight response would kick in. This time, that gut reaction failed to hit me and in place of that, seeing my daughter unconscious brought me to my knees. I cried the whole way over as I crawled to her side. Checking to see if she was breathing I carefully lifted her head onto my legs. “Oh baby I’m so sorry.” I sobbed.

Throwing my hair over my shoulder so it wasn’t in Ev’s face I pushed her curls out of the way to get a better look at her. At first glance I don’t see any bruises on her neck, chest, face, arms or legs. Her skin is cold, she doesn’t have a pulse and her skin looks paler than usual. My brain is swimming with ideas as to what happened to her.

“Camila, where you at?”

“Mom!”

“Back here!” I didn’t bother to look up as I continued to try and wake Kenja up. “Come on nena, wake up.” I sniffled. “C’mon love, please wake up.” I begged. I stayed still for a moment to see no change in her state. That’s when I did a little more searching. Lifting her shirt I checked out her abdomen. The alarming sight of a slight protrusion ignited that fight or flight reaction. “My sweet baby..” I gasped. I watched my tear fall onto her shirt as I felt underneath of her for any blood. When I raised my hand I felt my eyes twitch at how thick the consistency of her blood is.

“You cannot be back here!” Someone shouted.

I glanced up to see three officers failing to hold Andre and Jorden back from this room. Zoe pushed past the smaller officer and came to kneel beside me.

“Mom, what happened?” She panicked.

I showed her my hand and placed hers on Kenja’s lower abdomen. The color in Zoe’s face faded quickly.

“No..” she whispered.

“Where is he? Where the fuck is he at?” Andre yelled.

“Dad calm down..”

“Sir, Mr. Amaad is in custody. You need to relax and step back so we can do our job.”

“Fuck you and fuck him! I want to see him!”

“Pop, come on man, stop. He’s not worth it.” Jorden intervening is exactly what I need.

“Nah man, I want to see his smug ass face so I can beat the shit out of him. I told you that little nigga was no good for her. I told you so, Jo! He was trouble from the jump and I’m the only one that saw it!” Andre’s fuming and I understand but I need him to calm down.

“Andre, please.” I spoke up. He looked over at me and forcefully shoved the cop out of his way. He trudged over, taking his hat off slowly as he came closer. He knelt beside me not moving.

“Is she breathing?” He mumbled.

“No.” I sniffled. We had to clear out of the way so the EMTs could get Evelyn onto the stretcher and down to the ambulance. The kids and Dre were hot on their tails. I stayed behind to grab some of Kenja’s important documents and I packed a couple of bags. Each were filled with her favorite wardrobe pieces and personal items. The cops weren’t telling me much of anything so I left the apartment.

The ride to the hospital was dead silent. Andre pushed this truck with all his might. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he would lose track of the ambulance carrying our daughter.

------- ------

Leaning on Andre for support I sipped on my tea continuing to pray for good news. Kenja had to have an emergency blood transfusion so I donated. She and I are the same blood type and I just happened to have the perfect amount of iron in my system today. Jorden and Zoe fell asleep but I woke them up to send them to grab something to eat.

“I just want to hear something already.” Andre muttered from beside me. “I’m sick of waiting around. I want to see her.” He complained.

“I know baby. Here.” I offered him my cup only to watch him decline. “Papa, please.” I begged of him.

He gave in, drinking some, handing me the cup back once he had enough. The sound of footsteps drawing close earned our attention to the kids coming back.

“You get enough to eat?” I questioned them both.

��Plenty. We got something for you guys too when you want it.” Zoe sat down next her dad and Jo sat next to me. The four of us were once again silent waiting to find out how the transfusion went.

We sat alone for another half hour before someone came out to speak to us. Andre jumped up but I urged him to stay seated. I convinced him to stay behind so I could talk to with the doctor. Andre would bombard the poor woman with questions and he wouldn’t think twice about how his tone comes out.

“Just be honest. I can handle it.” I scanned her eyes with my arms folded across my chest.

“Your daughter is stable as are her vitals. She’s resting right now. The blood transfusion was a complete success, thank you for donating. It’s a blessing that you two are an exact match. Without you I don’t know how else we would’ve found such an eager and ready donor in time.” She smiled gently.

“So..she’s going to be alright? Is there anything else? When can we see her?”

“Oh yes, she will be just fine. I would advise that she stay here overnight for further observation. I wouldn’t want to take any risks with her health. You all can go in and see her. But I do suggest you all to keep the talking to a minimum so she doesn’t have to strain her voice. She’s still very weak as I imagine and she needs all of her strength for a speedy recovery.” She said.

“I don’t want my husband to hear this but I need you to tell me how far along she was. And I understand the patient-doctor confidentiality but this is my daughter. I have an idea but I want to be crystal clear about the facts.”

To be continued.......

#mareeff #tentwentyninecompositions

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eury--dice · 5 years

Text

Three Ghosts

Back at it with more Zoe angst because I love her and she deserves better but I’ll instead write some angst m’kay?

Trigger warnings: suicide, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts (please let me know if there’s anything else you want me to add a warning for) Please scream with me about Zoe Murphy

***

These days, sleep was impossible. Not that it was ever easy, with constant tension in the air so thick she sometimes felt as though she’d choke on it if she wasn’t careful enough.

(Of course, there were those months she’d slept well. But that was long gone, and to think of those now would be the source of more sleeplessness.)

Now, she’d toss and turn all night until eventually exhaustion took over, forcing the echoing voices inside of her head to silence. Ironically, that was her favorite time-when she was forced to have a clear mind as her body finally couldn’t handle any thoughts. The hours before, however, were the worst. With only dark and silence, she was forced to confront the angry, taunting voice in her mind, and the little boy that always looked so damn sad, and the anxious smile that seemed to be the image her brain most reverted to.

But in the early hours of morning, all of that would disappear, if only for a few minutes before the blaring alarm clock shook her out of her peaceful haze, and the cycle would begin again.

***

Sometimes, the taunting voice was the worst.

Oh, you’re feeling a little tired? Is it because you’re guilty? You’re guilty now? For what, Zoe? Why would you be fucking guilty, huh, Zoe? Is it because I’m dead? Or you prefer it that way, instead of wishing I was here? Or is it because you trusted someone else. Someone who hurt you, tore you down. Is that why you’re guilty, Zo? Not for little ol’ me. Never for me, Zo, is that right?

“Shut UP!” she’d scream, tearing at her hair, trying to do something, anything to quiet the voice.

How ironic to have your dead abusive brother’s voice haunt you at all hours, right? Connor’s voice was a backdrop to Zoe’s life. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Connor was the sun which the Murphy family orbited around. Her whole life had been controlled by his needs and his problems. Of course that wouldn’t change after he killed himself.

The worst part was that he said the things she knew, but hurt the most to acknowledge.

Oh, what’s wrong, little Zo? Can’t face the fact you loved a liar?

That night, she stole her mother’s sleeping pills.

***

School was just another obstacle.

Classes were okay. She mostly let the teacher’s voices take over her head and give her a short reprieve from Connor’s constant harassment. Sometimes, when her mind truly wandered, she’d begin to doodle stars on the cuffs of her jeans.

She always caught herself before she got too far.

Hallways between classes were the worst. Somehow, knowing that everyone in this crowd knew her as the dead kid’s sister made the crowd feel angrier, more violent.

Sometimes, she thought about which ones in it had turned on her when the ‘suicide note’ was released. Which one had called her a stuck up bitch? Which one had given away her phone number?

And there was Connor’s face, constantly staring her down from the Connor Project posters lining every wall. Even though his was the only face on the posters, she could silently feel another one, lurking beneath the surface, reminding her of her mistakes.

Can’t even look at your own brother, huh, Zo?

Or is it someone else you’re avoiding?

It wasn’t like she had any friends left, anyway, to walk the halls with. They’d all left her after the “suicide note” came out, the ones that were left after-after she made simultaneously the best and worst decision of her life. A few had stuck with her through it all, and they constantly tried to break down her walls. After enough trying, they’d learned that Zoe needed space. She didn’t do anything to refute this, although she desperately wanted human contact.

They couldn’t stay around her, even if they wanted to. She wouldn’t allow them. How could she, when she killed everything she touched?

So she mostly walked the halls a shell of her former self, sometimes with a mix of her favorite songs or some ‘80s rock blaring in her earbuds in the hope that it would drown out the constant torrent of voices beating her down. Sometimes it worked. Mostly it didn’t.

Jazz band helped a little. When she played the guitar, her problems slipped away a little, forced out the voices in her head. Sometimes she’d begin to smile, before a voice piped up in her head, reminding her of the time when someone had called that exact smile subtle and perfect and real. Like she was in on some secret that she was letting you into, just by smiling.

She didn’t enjoy being in on this secret.

***

Situated alone in her room, Zoe lapsed back into herself. Even though her mother had attempted to get Zoe to talk to her, she’d brushed Cynthia off quickly and cleanly, disconnecting herself immediately.

It was then her phone began to ring.

That’d happened for hours on end, she remembered, after the suicide note. She’d started off by replying with something quick and rude.

Have fun with your miserable life, bye.

But eventually, she’d just give up. She’d let the voices rant and scream about how she killed Connor, how she was the problem. She could have saved him if she’d tried.

She found it hard not to believe them.

Larry and Cynthia had insisted she get her number changed. Twice. On this line, she’d only gotten one phone call, one she didn’t even tell her parents about. It was easier to not tell them. If she told them, they would’ve freaked out again. All Zoe wanted was peace.

But something inside of her compelled her to pick up the phone with a standard “hello?”

Her own voice surprised her. She’d barely listened to it, recently. It was as though she was a stranger in her own body, her voice reverberating through her empty brain, startling her to listening.

And the person on the other line started immediately. They weren’t angry in tone. They were condescending.

They told her that she clearly had no idea what her brother was going through, how she hadn’t attempted to understand. That if she had gotten off of her ass and realized he was suffering, he would be here. That if she hadn’t been such an awful sister, he would be here.

Something in the last line made her snap.

She yelled like she couldn’t remember yelling before. Every emotion that she’d felt without really feeling was balled up in her chest, and the only thing she could think to do was scream it all out at this person who felt they had a right to berate her, to blame her for something they knew nothing about.

She started controlled. “I spent every goddamn night sleeping outside of Connor’s door for a year because he would fight with my mother and refuse to let me into his room. Until I turned twelve, I did this every night, begging him to let me in, to talk to me. He wouldn’t even deign me with a response. When I turned thirteen, I started staying up, waiting for him to come home, worrying to the point I’d almost throw up. All he’d do when he came in at three or four am was threaten to kill me if I told our parents.”

She could feel herself getting louder. She didn’t care.

“When I turned fourteen, he was already hooked on pot and whatever other shit he did! When I tried to intervene, he threw a burning joint at me!”

Years of trying. Years of pain.

“How much did you want me to put up with? How many years of abuse? How many days as his personal punching bag? How many days of holding my tounge, waiting for him to tire out? How many sleepless nights, how many panic attacks? How much was I supposed to do?”

She’s crying. She’s not sure when she started.

“How was I supposed to help him, when he wouldn’t help himself? How?”

Zoe choked a little.

When I couldn’t even help myself?

A little voice at the back of her head piped up. Maybe you should have done more. Been a better sister. Realized he was suffering inside of his own head.

“Does that mean he could make me suffer?” she shouted, suddenly addressing the person on the other line again, tears building up once again. “Was I responsible for his whole life, when he wouldn’t let me live?”

The voice has started speaking on the phone again. “Because he was the monster!” Or had the voice been inside of her own head? “He was the monster!”

It didn’t matter where the voice was, anymore. All that mattered was the fact that she was sliding, sliding, sliding to the ground.

“Or am I the monster?” Zoe whispered, feeling shards of glass prick her fingertips. She had shattered her phone, the broken glass catching light along the floor, creating odd patterns. Almost small rainbows finding their way across the ground, surrounding her in irony. Pain complimenting beauty.

That’s wasn’t always me, you know, Zo. The cruel voice of Connor morphed into a sweeter voice. A little boy.

Once, I was good. Maybe you changed that.

“Shut up,” she tried to shout, her hoarse voice only allowing a half hearted wheeze.

You could’ve fixed me, Zoe.

Zoe sat, shattered glass around her, tears streaming down her face and blood drawn from her finger.

I was too broken, anyway, she wanted to say. Far too broken to fix you.

***

Of course, Cynthia had heard the commotion. For once, no questions were asked, simply sympathetic, probing looks as she cleaned up the glass and bandaged Zoe’s fingers. She couldn’t enjoy getting off easy.

You find your only daughter having a mental breakdown amongst a shattered phone and this is how you fucking react?

For once, the voice wasn’t criticizing her.

Ask me questions! She wanted to shout. Take me to a thousand doctors! Actually show that you care about me, not just Connor, who’s dead!

Instead, Zoe did nothing, gingerly curling her fingers over in their bandages. She could hear her mother start behind her as she bounded back up the stairs.

“Zoe-“

Cynthia has missed that opportunity.

With an odd sense of detachment, Zoe slammed the door behind her and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw which room she was in.

AKA, most definitely not hers.

Or her parents’.

Or the guest room.

Can’t stand to be in my room, Zoe? Can’t face the fact that your monster lived in here?

Something inside of her shifted, just slightly, enough to uncover a sliver of a wound she’d hidden.

Hm, no. That’s what I thought. With all your care, that never extended to me, huh? Always another fucking person, not me. The golden child, forever and always. You’d care about Evan Hansen, who lied to your face for months, tore Mom and Dad apart, tore my memory apart, tore you apa-

Too late for that talk, isn’t it, hm, Connor?

***

she remembered the first time she really talked to him.

they were in his room-no, not his room, Connor’s room-and he really opened up for the first time, got past that anxious, stuttering façade. and something struck her, right there and then-

ohnonononodontfalldownthisrabbitholedontspiraldownthisdirectionstopstopstopstop-

and Connor was alive that day, truly alive, not in those times when he screamed and broke things-or got so high Zoe had to check his pulse to make sure he was alive-or decided to terrorize some random kids at school because they breathed funny-

and Zoe knew he was hurting, hurting so bad inside of his own head. and Zoe knew she was hurting, too. hurting but unable to show it.

because the Murphys were perfect, weren’t they? at least they were supposed to be. photo albums full of touched up photos, neatly trimmed hedges, white trimmed mini mansion. perfect children. perfect life. perfect... everything.

someone had to be that, right? when Connor became a pothead and Larry pulled away and Cynthia threw herself into any activity that provided a moment of distraction. someone had to smile through the pain in their own heads, smile even though they were falling apart at the seams. smile when med after med failed, when no one noticed the pain of his sister, assumed she could handle neglect for years as Connor imploded, assumed she was better off alone to be her perfect self. not popular, or the prettiest, or the smartest. but in some way perfect. the Murphy standard.

she tried to be perfect, because she could be nothing less.

welllookwherethatfuckinggotyounowyourejustagoddamnmess-

at first, he was a distraction. she didn’t know him; but he brought her brother back, and made her feel again, feel something other than pain and sorrow. but distraction morphed into genuine interest, and interest morphed into something else, as the days went on. something else when his deep brown eyes met hers, his laugh filled her ears, his lips grazed hers, his fingers ghosted over her skin. infatuation turned to love, and she began to heal from sixteen years of fear and pain.

it was stupid of her to think it could ever get better, it could ever last. she was stuck with her brokenness, cursed to carry it to the end of time. the only outs had already been stolen by Connor. doctors. drugs. death.

would she always get his hand-me-downs that could never fit?

***

In the end, she was left to pick up the pieces.

To mourn her brother and to never forgive him. To pull her parents together and set them to sink or swim. To heal the fissures in her mind, and to make sure they stayed sealed. To forgive and remember.

To carry on, with the three ghosts beside her.

***

well this ended as a downer. whoops.

I’m currently working on 3 requests, which will hopefully be a little more upbeat than this. I really gotta tone it down don’t I? Thanks for reading!

#deh #dear evan hansen #zoe murphy #evan hansen #MY LOVE #bandtrees #implied i guess #fanfic #my fanfic #my fanfiction #deh fanfiction #deh fanfic #connor murphy #cynthia murphy #suicide mention #anxiety mention #depression mention #larry murphy #implied hiding in your hands i guess

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friendlyneighborhoodborg · 5 years

Text

Marc Appreciation Week 2019| Day 5: Blush| “An Unchanging Face”

Am I even using the prompt anymore? I wrote this to be the one chapter in which Marc DOESN’T BLUSH.

Also, this might be the longest one. I didn’t pace this very well, and I am unfortunately very wordy. If you haven’t noticed, I tend to use long words and longer sentences.

Disclaimers were on Day 1. For those of you who are confused, this is actually part of a larger story, so... I should probably get the links for that set up.

Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

(Don’t ask me how the fiddle this happened it, but it’s ~3700 bloody words. I can’t pace a story to save my life.)

Marc crept silently to the back of the school. Rose was waiting there with a small case.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked her.

“Nope.” She held up a sponge and a bottle of makeup. “Let’s do this.”

He slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, hunched over the toilet, and only barely managed to keep from hurling up his guts.

It had seemed like such a good plan to Marc at first: one that seemed like it might finally resolve his confusion. Look like a girl, and go through the day looking like a girl, and soon enough he’d feel like it. Rose had been very thorough with the makeover, extending his coal-black hair to back-length, liberally applying pale foundation, colorful contour, and, most damning of all, dark blush and ruby-red lipstick.

“She” made it halfway through first period before the pressure started to blow.

“I can’t do this,” Marc mumbled in his half-crazy stupor, tugging at the… no, “her” stupor, tugging at “her” extensions in “her” hair. With an effort, he tried to shove “she” into his head, but it was no use. The “he” wouldn’t budge.

He wasn’t a girl, even though he now looked like one.

Rose was wrong. He was wrong. That’s all he was: he was just wrong, and he would never, ever be right.

He bolted out of the stall, grabbed a paper towel and stuck his face in the sink, barely wincing as the water and eyeliner stung his corneas. He attacked the face with the towels: no more lipstick, no more liner, foundation, contour, no more fucking blush! Everything remotely girly needed to get the hell off his damn face now. He scrubbed until his face had turned red, and, with a cry of rage, he ripped the extensions out of his hair.

He couldn’t tell whether the red shade on his eyes was from irritation, force, or anger, but at least they weren’t on some girl’s face. Of course, Marc couldn’t go back to class like this.

Taking a deep breath, he resolved that it was better to do what he had always done.

Ignore the pains, force them down, and keep being normal. No one needed to see his emotions.

He looked once again at himself in the mirror, his face for once devoid of makeup. But it could have been worse.

Five minutes later, once he decided he could go back, he looked at the door and saw that he had stumbled into the boy’s restroom.

Marc sat numbly through the rest of his school day. He’d limped back into first period looking like his usual dour self, and none of his classmates had commented on his earlier freak-out. Mrs. Mendeliev, thankfully showing some decency, didn’t offer punishment.

Marc refused to change his face after that. Better let everything stay inside, where he didn’t have to acknowledge it, so no one could make fun of him for crying. Because, of course, that’s the only thing his emotions would ever let him do at this point.

He could try forever and nothing would work, and he’d be doomed to sit on the fence, torn between the extremes that plagued him.

Nothing worked.

“Dude!” A voice called him out of his stupor. In his fugue state, his day had gone by so quickly that it was already lunchtime. Without noticing, he had drifted into the empty art room, and it looked like Nath’s friend Alix had followed him. “Oh, thank goodness you didn’t kill yourself, man.” It was an odd way to greet an associate, and Marc realized why she used it.

“How much did Rose tell you?”

“Enough to piss me off.” She threw her hat onto a table, grabbed his head by the sides, and surveyed the damage. “You’re not wearing makeup. I take that means it didn’t work.”

“No,” he mumbled voicelessly. “It didn’t.” ‘Nothing ever did,’ he thought, but he kept from saying this out loud, for fear that he might let something else out with it.

“Oh, that just figures,” she steamed. “You should have told us. All of us.”

“I’m sorry.” ‘But it’s not like you could do anything.’

“I’m not angry. I’m just disappointed. Not at you, I mean, you wouldn’t have known.” Alix gripped Marc’s shoulders, gnashing her teeth. “But Rose really should have known better.”

“It’s not Rose’s fault,” he defended, because it was the least he could do for her. “I’m the freak that no one knows what to do with.”

“That may be.” She stormed towards the window, gesturing outside with one hand as she pulled on her hair with the other. “But she’s the one who tries to be too helpful all the time. She won’t take no for an answer if she thinks someone needs her help. And her idea of ‘help’ is maybe a little too optimistic, so the kind she does suggest usually has a very slim chance of working. Basically, I’m sorry you ended up listening to her.”

“What’s the difference!?” he snapped. “Nothing’s ever going to work! I’m not going to fix myself! I can’t be a girl when I’m supposed to be, I don’t even know if I’m supposed to…” He stomped to the center of the room. “I can’t do anything. Look, just give up on me, and Nathaniel can find someone else to finish the comic, and they’ll do a hell of a lot better than me cause at least they won’t fall apart on the first! Fucking! Thing!!!” With that, Marc dropped to the floor in a crouch, facing away from Alix, and dipped his head under his shoulders.

Alix should have just walked away. He was a lost cause, one that didn’t want her pity, and he should’ve just been left alone. Contrary to Alix’s assessment earlier, he didn’t have any intention of killing himself quickly. He’d saved more people unnecessary grief over his sake, and still achieve the end result if he just left instead. He could leave quietly, and it would be like he was never there.

“Rose is right,” Alix said instead. “About one thing.” Marc didn’t move. “Living openly like this shouldn’t be this big damn clusterfuck, but it is, because society hasn’t caught onto the fact that we’re real yet, so we’re screwed over before we know what’s happened to us.”

He didn’t change.

“Because of that, we all find ourselves struggling to find something to smile about. And us kids especially, because now’s the point in our lives where everyone is telling us what we have to be. Sometimes just knowing what you are, and knowing that it’s something real that other people have to go through… sometimes that’s all you can do, and sometimes that’s enough.” She stamped her foot, becoming more worked up. “And she’s got this idea that it’s not something people have to hide, and that they shouldn’t hide it. She’s only right on one of those counts… But not all of us can have a life like hers. LGBT is only four letters, and they’re the only four letters most people know. And some people aren’t as forgiving.”

There was some other story behind Alix’s words. Something in it… almost stirred in Marc. Marc loved stories, usually, but he felt like this was one he shouldn’t touch.

“How many?” asked Marc suddenly, not lifting his head.

Alix waited.

“How many letters are there?”

Alix grimaced. “Too many to count. And only those four get top billing.” She crouched to his level. “Unfortunately, not everything can fit into those categories. Sometimes it’s so much harder to know what you are. But that’s how you have to start, and that’s all you need to do to start. I mean, know who you are.”

“I don’t.”

“Well…” Alix cut to the chase. “Did you ever think to check?”

“Look?” Marc’s head shot up, frustration evident in his furrowed brow. “What do you mean look?”

“You experience dysphoria, Rose told me that much. But not all the time, sometimes you identify as male, female, or something else.” She tapped the floor patiently. “At least, that’s how I heard it. Is it right? Now did you ever think to look those symptoms up?”

They sat in silence for several minutes as Alix’s question bored into Marc’s brain.

“I think I did,” he admitted. “A long while back, I thought about it. I talked myself out of it and never brought it up again. I thought someone might come and read over my shoulder, or my parents would look at my history.”

“Have they…” Alix stared incredulously. “Do your parents actually do that? Look at your history?”

He paused. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “Maybe?”

“Marc…” she sighed. “Never mind, I already looked it up anyway.” She pulled out her phone. “Genderqueer, we’re pretty sure, right? That’s what’s supposed to be covered by the ‘T’ in LGBT- for transgender.” She gestured in no particular direction. “To most people, that just means identifying with the gender opposite to yours, but the definition is actually a lot bigger.”

“How?”

“How many genders do you think there are?”

“Uhhh… two?”

“Okay,” she said, pulling him off the ground and depositing him on a beanbag chair. “Sit up, let me learn you something.” She opened her phone to a webpage. “Well, I don’t know if I’m actually qualified to give a dissertation on this, but I’ll try. Gender isn’t really black-and-white, it’s more on a spectrum. Modern science has proven this, it’s been out in the open for years.” She continued the talk, glancing down at her phone every once in a while for guidance. “Most people identify closely with the gender that corresponds to what they were assigned at birth. Some identify with the opposite gender. That’s a binary transgender.”

Making sure Marc was caught up with that, she continued. “Some people identify with something else, in between or disconnected from the ends. They might be more feminine or more masculine, they might identify as both male and female, or they might have no actual sense of their own gender. These people are ‘non-binary’ transgender, and there’s a whole bunch of other categories in that, and I don’t really have time to get through them all.”

“Wait…” Marc stopped her. “Why are you doing this? What are you even doing?”

“To put it in terms you’ll understand? You need the right word. Badly.” She put away her phone. “Let’s just say I know what that feels like.”

“You’re telling me I’m… that’s there’s actually…” At a loss for words, he only pointed at himself.

Alix nodded. “I found… well, gender’s a spectrum, and there are some people who sort of bounce around that spectrum. Their gender isn’t fixed, it changes from day to day, even over the course of the day. And they do still get dysphoria sometimes, I checked.” She paused, making sure Marc heard. “They’re called ‘gender-fluid.’”

Gender… fluid.

Gender… fluid?

The word fluid, as Marc knew it, meant gaseous or liquid. Shifting, retaining mass, but with the capacity to change in volume when referring to a gas. As a liquid, a fluid has a fixed mass and volume, but unfixed structure, filling available space in its container.

Gender… fluid.

Fluid in regards to gender. Gender changing volume and form to fit some container… himself?

That sounded so… promising.

No. It couldn’t be that simple, right? Could it be there was actually a word for his type of wrong?

“Marc?” Alix nudged him. “You okay, bud?”

Marc’s expression didn’t change. He answered as honestly as he could. “Uhhh, I don’t know.”

“I need to know, before we get our hopes up…” She looked him square in the eyes and asked, iron laced into her voice, “Does that sound right to you?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated.

“Okay.” She nodded. “I guess you don’t have to. Well,” she tilted her head sympathetically. “Just keep it in mind. I mean, this is a pretty accepting, patient neighborhood. You can take as much time as you need to get comfortable.”

“Thank you.” And then he said, “What did you mean?”

“About?”

“You said I needed a right word? And you knew how that felt?” He looked at her inquisitively. “What did that mean?”

For a moment, Marc thought she was going to break something. But then, Alix’s face mellowed into something more… acquiescing.

“I wasn’t always this friendly,” she admitted. “I would go so far as to say… I was an absolute shit. Stop laughing.” He wasn’t, though he had considered it. “I was looking at everyone who had someone they called their own. I watched them stumble over themselves like they had something to prove, even to their ruin. And I couldn’t see why.” She rubbed her eyes, and for a second, some freak trick of the light must have happened, because Marc almost thought he saw tears welling up. “I don’t know why Nathaniel stuck around me. But he was pretty much the only one who kept me from physically hurting people. Cause as far as I knew, either the whole world was completely batshit crazy or I was, and that just made me angry.” Her fists clenched tight, her eyes shut. “I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t crazy. And he was that someone for me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Forget about it.” She sniffed. No, he was sure this time, Alix was actually showing an emotion! “Anyway… Nate cares about you a hell of a lot, Shakespeare.” She looked at him, half-threatening and half-impressed. “He doesn’t do that lightly. He doesn’t talk, or smile, or laugh with anyone as much as he does with you and me. Like hell I’m letting one of the people he cares about go through what I did.”

Marc couldn’t believe his eyes. He wasn’t aware the skater could be this vulnerable, and yet still simultaneously command respect.

After everything Nathaniel had done for him…

After Alix had laid her heart bare after he snapped at her…

There was no choice in his mind. He couldn’t let either of them down. For some stupid reason which Marc couldn’t gather, they both cared about him.

“What do I have to do?”

“Nothing. You don’t have to do anything. Well,” she held up a finger. “No, there’s one thing.”

“What?”

“Relax.”

“Oh.” Despite the situation, Marc allowed himself to laugh a little. “That’ll be the day.”

“Heh.” She leaned forward and clapped him on the back. “You’re alright, dude.” She stopped awkwardly. “Are you a dude?”

Marc had asked himself the same question many times, if not exactly worded that way. Well if his gender did change, then it shouldn’t matter what he was before. That thought scared him, but ignoring everything else, and just looking at right now…

“Sure?” He shrugged helplessly. “I guess?”

“Cool.” Alix turned to go. “I’ll keep my mouth shut. Rest is up to you.” She snatched her hat back off the table. “Gonna need this. I’m gonna go give Rose a further piece of my mind.”

Marc had Nathaniel’s number. He had never used it to call him, only to text, but tonight…

“So…”

“Yeah,” Marc said.

“Wow,” Nathaniel agreed. “Have you told your parents?”

“I mean…” Marc glanced at his closed bedroom door. “I haven’t. You’re literally the second person I’ve told.”

“I’m honored. Are you going to?”

“I’ve thought about it.” He turned away from the door. “Maybe when I’m more sure. I mean… they know I’m not normal, but I don’t think they know how deviant I am.”

“Parents don’t understand half the stuff their kids can.” Nathaniel laughed over the line. “Imagine how mine felt, raising someone with Asperger’s.”

“What?” Marc hadn’t expected that.

“Yep. I mean, you told me your major malfunction, I might as well tell you mine.”

Oh.

Oh wow.

“I’m likewise privileged.”

Nathaniel laughed heartily. “Thanks. I don’t really tell people, but sometimes I get the feeling I’m obvious about it.”

Marc could relate. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t realized my giant crush on you yet.’

Aloud, he decided to grill him for details. “So, you have Asperger’s? What does that actually mean?”

“Well, it’s… it’s difficult for me to express my emotions and interpret others. But it’s pretty different for everyone.” Marc heard Nathaniel gulp. “Basically, I’m… I’m in my own head a lot of the time, and it’s difficult for me to sort of see and interact beyond that. Especially with people. I’m not very good with people. Communicating. The works.”

“Okay. Out of curiosity, does the art factor into that?”

“Started out as a therapy exercise,” he admitted. “Then I just started doing it. I use it to organize my thoughts, illustrate my emotions, and… well, some of it is escapism, probably, let’s face it.”

Once again, Marc could relate.

“I mean, my folks are pretty much used to my crazy. So, like, if your parents kick you out, I don’t think mine would be opposed to harboring a fugitive.”

“See?” Marc assured. “You can be clever.”

“Sometimes.” He could almost hear the smile. “We’re both deviants.”

“Yeah. I don’t know if all this anxiety’s good for my health. Maybe I’ll try taking Alix’s advice, see if that works.”

“Smart. She’s good at advice. It’ll be good to see you relax. And… I wouldn’t mind if you decided to be yourself more.”

“Whatever I am, it’s genderqueer, which is apparently a much bigger category than I thought it was.”

“So, if your gender changes, what are you now?”

“Well right now I’m…” Marc trailed off. Something about that sentence was going to end weirdly for him. “That’s weird. I was… a boy earlier, but now I feel…” He paused. “Kinda girly, I guess? I mean… huh.”

“Huh,” Nath agreed.

He gripped onto the phone. “Yeah,” he said, steeling his breath.

Was he?

Was “he” steeling “his” breath?

He had to try… Marc closed his eyes and thought one forbidden word.

‘She.’

It fit.

It felt amazing.

She… she lowered the phone from her (her!) ear.

She laughed. She giggled, even.

She had tried referring to herself with other pronouns before, but she had always concluded that, since she always eventually defaulted to male, that calling herself something different wasn’t the issue. It occurred to her that she may have been right all along, only in the wrong way. Pronouns were the issue, but not in the permanent sense, like she had considered to be the only option.

She smiled. Her smile. Her. Damn face.

She spared a glance in the mirror, but she was disappointed to see him again. Though, as she scrutinized her reflection, she saw something she had never seen: a light of sorts, seeming to come from her eyes, reflecting the overhead bulbs. It struck her that her eyes had never seemed this deep before. There was something completely new in her gaze, and even her expression and stature, and she realized immediately what it was.

Life.

And this life emboldened the green in her irises, the darkness of her eyelashes, the pink of her lips and the warm blush of her cheeks.

It was still his face. But, it was hers, too, dammit.

“Marc, you okay?”

She nearly dropped the phone. She had completely forgotten Nath was still there. Marc, he’d called her. She’d have to fix that. She might want a gender-neutral name.

She stopped. ‘No,’ she mused, ‘one thing at a time.’

“Yeah,” she said in her scratchy, pubescent, tenor voice. She also made a note to practice with that some more.

“You went kinda silent there. You sure?”

“I’m fine.” She gulped. “Never better.”

And by Golly, she meant it.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“Something’s right.”

Nathaniel stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. He should have gone to sleep a while ago, but that had never stopped him before.

He thought of Marc as he had always known Marc- as a boy. Easy enough: short black hair done up in the back, the red hoodie he always wore hung over his shoulders, pale skin that blushed easily. And he couldn’t forget the eyes. Two eyes that were forest green. Sharp, crisp eyes, to match the sharp mind behind them. Sharp, spry, creative, like a colorful… sword. The metaphor got away from him.

The eyes were the first thing that caught his attention, the first physical detail about Marc that he had truly noticed.

Alright, it was easy to see him as a boy, but what if he was a girl? His – sorry, her – black hair… well, it wouldn’t change much. Doing hair up in the back is a common girl thing, right? And the green eyes and blush wouldn’t change either. Now that he thought about it, Marc herself wouldn’t change. Well, she might be less depressed, maybe a bit more open about her emotions once she saw how she’d be accepted by everyone else. Maybe she’d be even quicker with her amazing words, if that was even possible. But those were really just boons, weren’t they? He couldn’t see any way that Marc being a girl would pose a problem to their friendship. And he could see Marc as a girl pretty easily, with her short stature and tendency to wear makeup. He envisioned her wearing something girly. Probably not a skirt. Would she wear her hoodie lower down her arms? Maybe do her makeup a little more? Even if it was only in front of him, he’d be happy to know she was feeling free.

In his vision, she was smiling, and he liked it when Marc smiled.

Well, what about something neither boy nor girl? Marc’s physical features shifted again in his mind, again only changing in how the writer carried themselves. Still brilliant, still humble, still Marc. Maybe just a little makeup, to smooth the edge off their masculinity. Sunglasses? No, they’d never wear sunglasses under any circumstances. A hat, maybe. What was Marc without their gender anyway? Same black hair, green eyes, rosy blush. Same demure attitude, same affectionate smile, same incredible creativity. Why did Marc need a defined, certain gender when they had so much else in addition?

He continued to lay on his bed, processing this. Then, as he reached the conclusion, he started to blush.

“God… damnit,” Nathaniel muttered, covering his face. “They’re still hot.”

Well, Marc didn’t blush. I didn’t say anyone else wouldn’t. And I did have the OTHER kind of blush at the beginning so...

Yeah. I’m just gonna pretend this makes sense. You hear me, @seasonofthegeek? This still counts!

Comments are always appreciated. This one was really fun to write, as you can tell from my unnecessarily long word count. I swear, I don’t usually go this long.

But hey, I think I made something pretty cool here. Anyway, I’m gonna post this before it’s past the deadline, so... bye for now, I guess.

#fanfic #Marc Appreciation Week #marc anciel #nathaniel kurtzberg #rose lavillant #for one very short scene #alix kubdel #for a much larger scene #miraculous ladybug

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pctrparkrs-blog · 6 years

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griefstruck

a/n: hello hello this is my first fic for peter parker whomst i would die for!!! i wrote the first draft for this at midnight on a school night the day after i got spoiled for infinity war and uhh i cried pretty much the whole time. it’s depressing & i promise i will write happier things after i get this out of my system!!!! also i listened to strawberries & cigarettes while writing this, it didn’t really inspire it or anything it just really reminds me of peter for some reason

warnings: INFINITY WAR SPOILERS!!!!! that’s all i think

words: ~1.9k

When all is said and done, Tony just wants to go home. He wants to go because you’re still there, in New York, waiting for them all to return.

Or at least, he hopes you are.

Because he hadn’t truly considered a possibility in which Thanos hurt you, not in the same way he’d considered a possibility in which Thanos hurt anyone else.

Everyone else, though, that was another thing he hadn’t seen coming.

He sat, legs crossed like a preschooler, his head in his arms, for what felt like years. He knows it wasn’t actually years, but it felt like it. He hadn’t thought of much beyond Peter’s terrified sobs when he realized what was going to happen to him. After he saw Strange and Quill and everyone else disintegrate into nothing but dust, and felt death reaching for him. Wondering why it had saved him for last. Abstractedly, Tony wonders if it hurt him very much. It didn’t seem like it. It seemed mostly like fear.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Tony has never been a religious man, but he finds himself praying when they land back in New York. Praying for Peter, for May, for all those he’s lost over the years. For you. In case you’re gone too, but also in case you’re not. You’re not related to him by blood, but you may as well be, and he can’t remember how he met your parents, but it doesn’t matter. He took you in after their tragic deaths, and you were his responsibility from then on. He thinks about how terrible it was to see the fear in Peter’s eyes, the hopelessness in his voice as he apologized for something that wasn’t his fault, and he thinks about how much worse it will be to walk into his apartment and see you reduced to a pile of ashes. He wasn’t able to protect Peter, but he could at least comfort him in his last moments; if you aren’t there when he walks in, he won’t have been able to do even that. At least Pepper will have been there.

Another barely stifled cry. If Pepper is gone too, after all this…

There is an overwhelming sense of horror as Tony opens the door. It feels like he’s the star of a horror movie, about to enter the room and find the bodies of his dead friends, the murderer still hiding in the closet somewhere, waiting to kill him too.

Thankfully, you’re still there. You seem cheery (after fifteen years living with someone, he can just tell), and the air in the room is light. Pepper must still be here too. For a minute Tony feels himself relax in the comfort of his own home, but then realization sets in and suddenly his day goes from awful to so much worse, because you’re standing there with your back turned to him and you don’t know yet. You haven’t seen what isn’t there yet. Or rather, who isn’t there.

The coward inside of him tells him to turn around. He needs time to himself right now, to properly grieve, to figure things out, to apologize to Peter’s aunt May, before he does this. But the rest of him, the noble part of him, knows he can’t do that. It would take too long and you had to know. He coughs slightly and you turn around.

Your day had been about as normal as it could have been: just school and back home, a few stops to pick up food on the way home. Pepper was the only one there when you got back to the apartment, which in itself wasn’t unusual; Tony was rarely in the apartment at 4 in the afternoon on a weekday. There was always work to do at the company, or with the governments of the world, or with the Avengers (or what was left of them).

Of course, Pepper’s news that a giant, donut-shaped spaceship and a couple sinister-looking aliens had landed in New York was objectively not normal. But they left New York quickly, taking Tony (and Peter, according to a text from Ned) with them, so life returned to normal just as quickly.

But the realization that half the world’s population was disintegrating for no apparent reason was even less normal than the aliens.

So obviously, you & Pepper locked yourselves in her room and buried yourselves under the covers, hoping that at least if you were going to die by crumbling into dust, you could do it in the comfort of a bed, with your family. But after about ten minutes of that, you got bored, and you figured that whatever freak incidence was occurring all over the world would come for you if it came for you, so you might as well go get a snack.

Which is how you happened to be in the kitchen, your back facing Tony Stark as he came into the room. He coughs. You turn around.

What you take in immediately is that he looks absolutely destroyed. Both physically and mentally. There are cuts on his face, hands, and arms; a few are still bleeding. He has a deep red spot on his face that you know will be a dark blue-black bruise by the end of the day tomorrow. He’s bent over, holding his side. But none of that looks like it’s paining him. No, it’s his eyes. They’re void of tears, but they look hazy, unfocused. He looks haunted.

And he’s alone.

And he’s gripping his hands so tightly you’re worried the bones might break. It would be almost comical if you didn’t feel cold dread creeping slowly through your body.

“Tony…?” You ask, slowly, quietly.

He exhales. Loudly. As if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

“Where is everyone?” The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Your mind wanders for a moment; it’s never been this quiet in this room, you don’t think. The look on Tony’s face reminds you that this is a serious matter.

“Y/N… They’re gone.”

For a split second it’s so absurd that you want to laugh. Obviously, you weren’t expecting the return of the original Avengers, even though the alien attack of the day appeared to be a big deal. You haven’t seen Steve, Natasha, Sam, or Bucky in years; with Bruce and Thor it’s been even longer. And Peter usually went back to his apartment after missions, although not without a text. You weren’t sure why you felt so let down.

“They’re gone, Y/N.” Tony repeats suddenly; you hadn’t even realized you’d been speaking out loud. His tone is the same as before, but his voice cracks on your name. You look up at him, just as he lets his arms drop to his sides.

Everything is so, so quiet.

You can barely breathe, your mind is racing so fast. You sit down on the floor and cross your legs; Tony sits down beside you and takes your hands.

Everything starts to click.

“Where is he.” It’s not a question and both of you know it. “Tony, where is Peter?”

Tony closes his eyes, his face contorted in pain. You already know the answer; he knows you know too. It’s been all over the news for the past twelve hours, ever since people began turning into dust. And here’s Tony, without his starry-eyed student, looking completely and utterly destroyed. Unable to say more than a few words.

You know the answer, but you don’t believe it. You want to hear it from Tony.

“Tony, please.”

“Y/N, just try to breathe,” he says. You’re hyperventilating, another thing you hadn’t noticed. His voice is thick with emotion.

“No, I don’t believe it,” you shake your head, backing away from him even as he comes closer to you. Your eyes start to burn as you try to blink back tears. Tears mean it’s true, and it’s not true. “I don’t believe you.”

“You should.”

And that’s it. The scream leaves your body involuntarily; you feel strangely out of body as it happens, as if you’re only watching yourself, not actually there. Your knees buckle – you would have fallen had Tony not caught you as you collapse. Footsteps get louder; Pepper must be coming into the room.

“What happened? What happened?” You sob almost incomprehensibly, struggling to break free of his grasp.

“Thanos,” Tony murmurs. “He snapped his fingers and all of the sudden, half the world’s population starts to crumble.”

“That’s not good enough,” you wail, struggling back just far enough to hit him. You know you shouldn’t, but the reasonable part of your brain is not in control right now. He flinches, more from the words than your fists, but it doesn’t stop you. You beat on his chest again and again, and he lets you, until your arms weaken and you slip from his grip and flop to the floor.

Some truly disconnected part of Tony’s brain thinks it was funny, you flopping like a fish to the ground, but it’s overwhelmed by the thought that just a few short hours ago Peter was hugging him with a death grip, pleading with him. Sobbing about how he didn’t want to go. Like the child that he was.

“H-how could you do this,” your breathing is ragged as you stare up at him. “How could you let him come with you. He’s just a kid.”

“I didn’t -“ he starts, but cuts himself off after seeing your face. “It could have happened to him down here too.” That isn’t much better; Tony knows it’s a cheap excuse as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“You don’t know that,” you whisper. You don’t hear his response; you feel as if you’re underwater. You can hear indistinct mumbles as Pepper talks to Tony, and after a few seconds, he pushes something across the floor to you.

“Th-that’s what’s left.” He says slowly. “I took what I could.” A heartbeat passes and neither of you respond. “It’s not… Peter.”

You can’t help it. A sob escapes your lips as you reach for the box, pulling it close to your chest. You squeeze your eyes shut, as tightly as you can, and pray that in a few seconds you’ll hear Tony and Pepper’s footsteps leaving the kitchen.

They murmur to each other as they leave you lying on the floor, curled up in the fetal position with the box next to you, your eyes closed. You must look almost peaceful like that, but of course you’re not. You’re thinking about how you’d seen Peter just the night before, just because he was in the area (or so he’d said) and he wanted to see you, and you’re thinking about all the late-night adventures to get ice cream, or Chinese food, or Cheetos from the bodega two blocks down. And you’re thinking of the first time he kissed you – one of those days when it’s finally starting to get warm and everyone is optimistic – which was cliche but the look on his face after made you feel like you could explode from happiness. You’re trying to ignore the box next you in favor of your happiest moments.

You’re trying to reconcile your memories of this beautiful boy with the fact that he no longer exists.

#fjadsklfjdsaklfj i have to post this now i've been staring at it so long i'm starting to hate it #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #infinity war #infinity war spoilers #tom holland #spider man #my writing #pey.txt #feels kinda pretentious but it's FINE

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standlikeastarfish · 6 years

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Reintegrating My Body and My Mind

A personal essay about violation and healing.

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Trigger warnings: panic attacks, anxiety, sexual assault, violence

My therapist recently pointed out that I talk about my body as if it’s a separate entity from my concept of my self. I often feel like it’s separate—especially during panic attacks when it feels like my body is attacking me. When my body shakes, when my hands go numb, when i feel nauseous, when it feels like my throat is closing up, I ask myself: why is this body doing this to me? Why is it trapping me? While writing this, I’m currently in a state of calm reflection, and can now see that maybe my body is trying to tell me something when it does this. Maybe I should listen. And furthermore, at the core of this panic response is really the brain pulling the strings—and the brain is absolutely me. So really, I’M trying to tell myself something.

I’ve had panic attacks for as long as I can remember, but they became more frequent when I was 12 years old. The first years I spent learning how to cope with them, the next few years I spent learning how panic attacks worked and why I had them, and this past year I’ve been working on having more control over the anxiety and my body. This process includes digging deep into why I feel like I don’t have control, and frequently this sort of thinking has resurfaced several moments that I’ve felt violated and sexually assaulted where I’ve given up my body to others. For the record, I don’t think my panic attacks and the moments of violation are unrelated.

We are currently on the edge of a potential cultural shift, led by the wave of survivors of sexual assault speaking out against powerful and famous men. They are doing heavy-lifting to help reframe the way our society views violence and assault. They are saying no to any discomfort or harm, and they are taking back control of their bodies and their futures by speaking out. They have empowered me to want to take back control of my body. I want to revisit moments that I had previously written off as “weird” or “just something that happened to me” as acts of violence. Even though I felt awful during these moments, I would tell myself that it wasn’t a big deal and to stop feeling so hurt. By invalidating my emotions during these moments, I taught myself to disconnect how my body felt and what my mind was telling me—a body/mind divide.

The next few paragraphs are these moments. I write this down on this platform for a few reasons: I believe writing this down is a step in the direction of reintegrating my mind and my body by acknowledging and validating the moments of discordance and therefore addressing the potential source of my panic attacks. I also believe that to write it down is to confront it, and to write it down in a (pseudo)public space is to have witnesses who offer a secondary acknowledgement I can’t give myself.

Again- trigger warning.

When I was 3 or 4, I had an inguinal hernia operation. I had no idea what a hernia was. I had no idea what surgery was. All I knew was that I had to go to the doctor a lot and he’d pull my pants down and touch me there. My parents tried explaining it to me and comforting me but I remember not understanding exactly what they were saying. I honestly believed they were going to let doctors remove my penis and I didn’t know why. The day of the surgery they drove me to the hospital very very early in the morning. I remember feeling terrified and my parents were rushing me because we had to be on time. We got to the hospital and the nurses brought me to a room full of other children in hospital beds. Several adults standing over me told me to strip and go into one of the beds. I didn’t want to get naked. I remember standing there crying and a nurse started taking my clothes off for me. I remember feeling helpless. I finally got into the bed and the next thing I know I was tired and falling asleep. When I woke up I was attached to a machine and my parents were there and I was getting gifts. I didn’t know why i deserved gifts—it wasn’t my birthday and I didn’t do anything to deserve them. It was even weirder because in the past anytime I got gifts, my twin also got gifts because we share the same birthday, but this time my brother wasn’t getting anything. This was the first time I felt like my body was not just mine.

I think about this sometimes when I pass a hospital.

When I was around 10, i was at a museum with my mom. It might've been the Whitney or the Guggenheim. I had wandered off for a minute and a museum guard found me. Instead of asking where my parents were, he grabbed me and got down on a knee and held me close. Then he started kissing my cheek, saying I was a very cute boy. I don't remember if he was trying to move from my cheek to my lips. Suddenly my mom found me and screamed at him "what the hell are you doing to my son", she pulled me away from him harshly and fast walked me out of the area. I don't remember what happened after that. But I do remember for months I would scrub my cheek in the shower, trying to scrub off the stranger. I was so ashamed that this man did that so I didn't tell anyone. I don't even know if I talked to my mom about it ever.

I think about this sometimes when I go to a museum.

A few years later, I started searching for answers for why I was attracted to guys my age online. A decade and a half ago, when you tried typing in “gay” into google, you either got porn, “Am I Gay” online quizzes, or chatrooms. I started checking out the chatrooms, and there I talked to people both my age and older about what it meant to be gay. I was too eager for validation and acceptance that I ignored the warning signs, and was swept up into talking to much older predators. They complimented me and allowed me to talk openly about this otherwise shameful attraction to guys. Gradually these men asked more and more questions and at the same time I set up a fake email account with a fake name to make a fake Skype account to talk to them on webcam. Soon there were a few men who I’d be talking to late at night, and they asked me to do things for them on camera. At school I was constantly bullied at even the slightest feminine or queer action/comment, so I repressed any feelings until the nighttime when I could stop pretending. By doing what these men wanted, I felt like this part of me was being cared for and seen, but I also felt intense panic and disgust with myself—which are severely different feelings to feel at the same time. I realized much later that they were using me and exploiting my need to be accepted, and that giving up my body digitally like that has significantly affected my relationship to others and myself. Sometimes I google usernames of the men and see that they’re still active on forums, probably preying on young boys like me. One time when I was older I even went into a chatroom and tried warning boys about the men, telling them to leave the chatrooms because it’s not worth it. I don’t know if they went back to it.

I think about this sometimes when I log onto Skype.

In college I dated a girl who loved me. At this time I identified as bi, but she wanted me to be “just straight”. When she wanted to have sex and I didn’t (which happened quite often), she questioned if I loved her or not and got upset. So I ended up having sex with her a lot when I didn’t want to in order to show her that I did love her. I was afraid if I said no she would get angry. I would get into a blank state of mind and lend her my body. One night I was upset and I was crying hard but she still went for it. I said no a number of times, but we still had sex that night. Eventually, it was a messy, emotional, and scary break up.

I think about this sometimes when I talk to her.

During my last week of college I was invited to a party at a friends place. I was upset that night for various reasons and went alone. When I was there I ran into a guy who had been hitting on me for the past two years but I had voiced my discomfort previously. He saw that I was upset and asked if I was drinking. I said no because I didn’t like the hard liquor in the kitchen. He said he had a bottle of rosé in his car that I could have if I wanted. I said sure why not. We got in his car and I started drinking it. He told me I could drink as much as I want. He put on music and I thought that was nice. It tasted so good, I hadn’t realized I drank half the bottle. I’m usually drunk off one cider or one glass of wine, so by this point I was started to get really drunk. He started driving and I freaked out telling him not to drive because he was drunk and i was asking where we were going. He said he didn’t drink that much and said to his apartment. By the time we got there I couldn’t walk straight. We went into his room and he started kissing me. I said no sex. He kept pushing for it. I said no. That’s about when I blacked out. I remember waking up in the middle of sex and freaking out wondering where the hell I was and what I was doing. I pushed him off me, put on my clothes and ran outside to a pond nearby and cried my eyes out.

I think about this sometimes when I see rosé wine.

I am a survivor of sexual assault. It will probably take me a long time to be comfortable in my body, but I know I will be. And I know my anxiety is my mind sending signals to my body trying to protect me. I know it’s me. I have come to appreciate my panic attacks as a defense mechanism created by my mind. Instead of trying to cope with the panic attack, I now ask myself why I’m having it. What triggered it? What was I thinking about? With this information I can then test hypotheses about what is bothering me and attempt to process those specific events and emotions. My panic attacks are pressure points that help me see where the problems are. Without them, I would be punching in the dark. I’m grateful for my family and friends who are endlessly supportive of me. Without them, it would be even darker. I hope that people continue to speak out against their abusers and the culture of sexual assault in general, even though it’s so difficult and courageous. This feels like a critical moment in our mass understanding of violence and harm, and I look forward to the day when everyone feels like they have control over their bodies.

#me too

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whyareyouyellingatme · 7 years

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A post I deleted in the end

Here's one of the most personal/long things I've ever posted, and if you hate me you'll probably have a field day laughing at this one. I don't know how long it'll take before I maybe...delete it. I don't want anyone to respond with likes or comments. If you have something to say you can pm me, but I don't enjoy talking about it outside of one ong rant. I rant like this so I can jot it all down for records / evidence I'm not irrational, and then move on.

Here's the TL;DR: Rick Ranquist - 40+ years old, lives in Utah possibly Michael Aigner - mid 20's, probably lives in Bellingham by the pool Cooper Texeira - My age, lives in Seattle and goes to my school

All these men are white sexual offenders that did not get a punishment for their crimes.

When I was seven my 20+ year old babysitter did stuff with me that I did not understand, and I don't properly remember a lot of it. I thought it was a game, but it was actually doing sexual favors for a pedophile. I read a line in "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe" about a man trying so hard to forget something unpleasant that he eventually succeeds in forgetting it. I tried to do that with the memory, and it sort of worked until I heard his name, Ricky. My brother said, "Remember when Ricky----" and that's all I heard before I started dissociating and everything was like someone was smothering me with a pillow.

His sister called me a liar when I said "your brother does weird stuff with me and plays games I don't understand". I decided if she didn't believe me, nobody would, because she was my neighbor and my friend. She still doesn't know today I was telling the truth.

I got raped when I was 19 by a 23 year old that had been grooming me since I was 16. I tried reporting it to the police and they laughed at me, nearly hanging up on me. I went to the ER, got a cervical exam while a doctor ogled my vagina with awe (because my relatively young genitals excited him, how professional). The taxi driver saw me crying and said "you put him on a list! Get him on a list!" and nope, he didn't get put on any kind of list. That fucked me up for a long time. I was numb for a long time. I just watched non stop television and didn't think. I can remember the exact outfit I put in a brown paper evidence bag, and I can remember the exact outfit I wore for days afterwards. I really changed as a person after that. Being isolated from all your friends and spending 3 years dedicating all your time to a shitty abusive man that made you think everything was your fault. Not fun.

Weirdly enough, a man who's in my family pushed me not to report the rape or try pushing for anything else from the police, because he thought it would traumatize me further. I gave up. I didn't want to see Michael, he made me sick. I was partially relieved I got out of the cycle of abuse, but I held on to a rage for a while . I still feel it if I think too much about it. I get really angry but it helps nothing because what can I do ? I'd imagine scenarios where I got to kill him as revenge.

It looked really cute on the surface! It looked like I was having a good time. But I was having panic attacks every week trying to make him happy, despite the beatings, despite the yelling (bc that's normal in my household so I thought it was normal in relationships) until the day that he went way too far.

I really thought it was my fault and that I deserved it for being stupid or not good enough. I was too focused on a very heavy school schedule and an eating disorder/self harm problem to realize I could do better for myself. Of course all of his friends saw me as a "crazy bitch" as he was beating me, real nice. His family was really racist and he broadcasted all of our arguments to them. His sister threatened to hit me with a wrench, not knowing/caring that her brother was already beating me. All of them just kind of watched whenever I broke down crying in front of them. His dad said "women get like this", I'm not...a woman. Not for someone like you dude.

Michael showed up at my house a couple days after it happened too. He stalked me for a while. I still get freaked out being alone sometimes. I have a knife collection and pepper spray, and even guns, but none of them make me feel as safe as a genuine friend does. I'm easily startled and for a while I had really horrible nightmares and panic attacks in public. It got a little better with time, but I still have really bad days. It's still difficult going anywhere near medical centers or dealing with cervical exams.

(I tried speaking with a nurse about the possibility that I have PTSD from that event, and she brushed me off with a "Women used to get raped all the time and they would have to just deal with it. You should lose some weight." Which started up my eating disorder again...horribly enough, people have been so cruel to me but I still care so much what they think.)

I tried faking confidence and happiness in college. I don't have a supportive healthy family, I just have me and whoever decides to be my friend. I made a friend group and went to parties with them. That was fun until a person I trusted grabbed at me when I was incredibly drunk. He led me to his room where I passed out. I wasn't sober enough to understand what was going on or even walk properly, and he texted people things from my phone saying that I was okay. It was all just kind of stupid honestly.

I woke up the next day in my room, on the floor, feeling kind of gross and even more gross as I try to figure out what happened the night before. He shows up at my work wanting me to serve him ice cream. I go in to report him because he did end up grabbing me without consent.

I lost my friend group. And after describing him grabbing my chest and ass in a disgusting amount of detail to a man that said "I remember being a young man and partying in college" with a cheerful nostalgia, I lost the case too. He didn't get anything. At this point I was kind of used to being treated like a piece of meat, so I was just mad he didn't learn anything. In fact, he has been checking up on me online to find dirt on me and report ME to the school for talking shit. His girlfriend has been doing the same, angry because she thinks he was trying to cheat with me. Cheating is consensual.

People just don't learn sometimes. I'm not a thing. I'm an nb lesbian though, and the guy that tried stuff with me when I was drunk knew that. He thought he could convert me.

I've been going through all of this without therapy, trying to just go to school. I tried telling a counselor about my situation and he said "those are long term problems that the university cannot handle".

Maybe I seem quiet and aloof, maybe I'm annoying to you, maybe you think I'm a liar or something stupid like that. But god damn it, I am a human being. I've been through some gross shit. I'm tired of people touching me and trying to invade my space. I'm tired of creepy ass college professors comparing me to their girlfriends and saying shit like "things aren't going so well with her". It's never a compliment you're just fuckin weird dude.

I'm super disconnected from reality even now (sometimes) because I don't like thinking about any of this. I stayed silent about it for quite a while because of all the people who probably wouldn't believe me. But uhhhh fuck you guys I know who I am.

This is a really personal story, especially very personal to be posting on facebook. It makes me feel super vulnerable, but not as much as having the memories bouncing around in my head nonstop makes me feel. I have a girlfriend now and I'm living in a pretty safe place at the moment. There's a lot of other shit happening in my life, my PTSD dog (one of my only sources of comfort in a bad time) got hit by a car and died. :( You all probs know about that, I just miss her when I think about the past. So I've just been trying to figure out how to help myself, you know?

This post got really fucking long and I don't feel like editing it. If you ever think I'm quiet, it's because I'm tired of explaining myself. I want to be my usual joke-y self but sometimes that feel really fake. I don't like thinking about all of this, but I think someone should know.

I wanted to write this post when I was sure I could finish it without crying. It has been a while since something super bad has happened to me, and that distance between the event and reality really helps muffle the emotional response.

Cheers to the survivors that aren't "good" survivors that react a specific way. Cheers to those of you that aren't comfortable sharing your story because it's really not anybody's business unless you want to say something.

I don't know, I still try and have fun, pretending nothing happened. I hate this crap. I hate the emotional baggage. Wish I could chuck it, but my brain has a different plan.

Like, all of this shit happened on TOP of me living in an extremely abusive home so you can imagine I tried to kill myself.

I'm a human being. Stop treating me like shit. I'm tired of it. I'm also not as mean as I look, I don't bite. I'm here for you as a friend if you need it. I just couldn't sleep tonight because of all this crap.

Please don't react to this I'm just babbling. I don't want to deal with people that have no empathy for my long ass story just because it's long / badly written. I'm just tired. I'm soooooo fucking tired.

Edit: I'm trying to reread this just once, but I can't even do it. Like not because it's hard, I literally just look at the words and they mean nothing. My brain basically put up a firewall against upsetting shit so I lose touch with reality whenever I get near it for too long. It's hard describing dissociation but if you would like to know more u should google it. A weird time. Anyway gn I'm alright I just needed to fucking let it out.

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fancifulpurposelesslovely · 7 years

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I stumbled over my first trigger yesterday, and had a real honest to god panic attack. I've had them before, but usually not as a reaction to something specific. I didn't understand what that was like. Like, I got it in the abstract, but the actual feeling in the moment is ridiculous. There was this complete and utter disconnect between what I knew to be true and my emotional reaction and then a re-writing of reality to match that reaction. A conversation about a completely reasonable emotional exchange somehow went sideways in my brain. I haven't worked out exactly what the trigger was, or how to avoid it in the future, but I want to walk through the experience. I cobbled this metaphor together in a conversation with a friend. Even at the beginning of freaking out I knew at a logical and intellectual level that things were fine. I was told that the situation was fine and I hadn't done anything wrong, and I believed that. I knew it to be true. But some part of my brain was fucking screaming at me that *everything* was ending. Just "little kid can't find his mommy in the store" fucking screeching bc "she's dead now there is no other option." Primal fear of the unknown panic and loss. And how do you listen to that little kid scream and not believe him? Even when you know he's wrong, and you can see his mom right down the aisle, she's right there and everything is fine...but you can't hear that little kid without giving in How do you hear his fear and not think the world is ending? My friend said: "Cause we're adults. We've been there. We know the complete and utter terror, but also can suspend that belief for long enough to find help. You did this - you asked me to get you. You took meds. You went to a safe place" And so I gave into the fear for awhile. I sat in a dark room shaking and crying, but even when I was there I asked for help. I couldn't hear the truth, not in my core. I functioned, I went around the store and did my grocery shopping and picked out a couple nice snacks (I asked for help. I pulled myself off the floor and out of the corner. I took medication. I got myself to a safe place. I made plans and got myself and my friend to a safe place.) Even when the kid was screaming right in my fucking ear I looked up and tried. I didn't sit down next to him and sob. Even when I'm wandering around the store, though, just buying things and checking off my list, I could still hear him. He found his mom, he's clutching to her skirt and sobbing on her, snot and tears and feelings all over the place. (I'm trying to explain what happened to the person I'd been speaking with. I'm trying and to and not really making any sense. Still sobbing too hard. And I still wasn't ready to process what had actually happened.) I made it through the rest of my day, almost normal. I hung out with friends and I learned things and I ate dinner. I made it home. I made plans, and I laughed, and I helped. And I shook. And every couple of minutes I looked sad and lost again. Mom and kid run a few more errands, but he's never out of her sight. He hardly lets go of her hand. Won't even go to the bathroom without her. He's sniffling a little and might start crying again but his voice isn't screaming in my inner ear every second. I drew complex designs over my tattoo in sharpie. I patted the kid's head when he walked by. When I could ask for help, I finally did. I asked for a phone call from the person I'd been speaking with. I had mostly walked through the problem myself, but the little kid was still unsure. Like when they went home and mom put the kid to bed and kissed his forehead and he woke up 20 minutes later and walked to her room, poked his head in for a second to make sure she was still there. Of course she was, and he knew she was, but he'd been so afraid. Today... is this. I'm not listening to the kid cry anymore. He's not crying. He's home and in bed. He's probably having bad dreams, but he'll be okay. And I read over the conversation again, looked at the words and the tone that were actually communicated. I can read it for real when the kid isn't screaming in my ear. I can see that mom tapped the little kid's shoulder and said "honey I'll be right over there" and he just didn't hear her. I can see when the little boy turned around and his mom wasn't there anymore. I rewound the tape and stepped back and saw the whole thing. And the me that's me and isn't that little boy can see that things are okay. But damn my ears are still ringing from how long he cried and how loud he screamed. His bad dreams are still making him whimper and whine in my head. So I'm feeling fragile and strung out. I'm so tired. And that little boy will probably wake up a few more times and check to see that his mom is asleep in her bed where she's supposed to be. He'll spend a few weeks fighting a small flare of panic when he realizes he can't see her. But here's hoping he won't start screaming again. And if he does, here's hoping I won't spend so long believing him.

#personal #description of a panic attack l #trying to conceptualize what the fuck happened to me #triggers #cw panic attack #cw trauma #cw anxiety #ridiculously extended metaphor

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suchawonderfullife · 7 years

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Day 5-7: Fascia therapy and emotional healing/bat-shit crazy

Today was my hardest day so far. On fri we started working on my Fascia. That’s what is pictured above. Fascia is a thin fibrous tissue that sits between muscles and organs to keep them separated and protect them. My Dr got out a piece of glad/cling wrap and showed me how fascia works. He explained that if you have 2 muscles that work ontop of each other, the fascia keeps them separated as they rub together. If the fascia wasn’t there, your muscles would mesh together and just knot up. He showed me that throughout the day your fascia moves, get rubbed through friction and starts to bunch up and even get little knots in it. Your fascia is also what stores, as my Dr says, “yesterdays bullshit.” This means our fascia stores all of our emotions from memories from yesterday and our past.

So he has this machine, it kind of looks like a mini sander and it vibrates hard and fast (reminds me of a jackhammer). He uses it on various points all over the body to release the emotional tension within your fascia. On Friday he did my legs, hips and back. I didn’t realise how many sensitive areas I had on just my legs. The vibration was intense, not painful but sort of uncomfortable and ticklish. I was often laughing or cringing through the uncomfortable sensation. He said this treatment may effect me emotionally, but it effects everyone differently.

I thought “how much emotion can have in my legs? Like come on!” Plus, a girl in the clinic I chat to had this treatment the day before and told me how awesome it made her feel, so I wasn’t really worried (again it effects everyone differently). I had that appointment before lunch. When I was having lunch I was colouring in (because it’s good for you, like meditating) and listening to music. I was pretty happy and upbeat. But then my brain started doing weird things. I couldn’t really pinpoint it. Like flashes of memories I couldn’t see. I felt this well of emotion inside me teetering on either crying or freaking out. It was very strange. I thought maybe if I made myself cry it would release some of it (Dr’s here tell you to cry if you need as it’s releasing things). So I went into the bathroom and tried really hard to think of sad things until I cried, but I didn’t cry much. It did help though, the weird brain flashes and wavering emotions passed.

The next day was Saturday and I felt very tired but wanted to head out to look at some places. We went to wholefoods to do a weekly grocery shop and enjoy a healthy lunch. I could tell “I” wasn’t really mentally present at this point. Things were shifting in my brain. I told my partner how I didn’t feel like me and that I needed him to be patient as I think my brain will be experiencing this shift for sometime from here on out. Then later in the day, driving to a shopping mall, out of no where my eyes filled with tears and I was about to cry. No idea where that came from, but obviously my body just needed to release something. It passed and then I was fine again.

Yesterday (Monday) my Dr wanted to work on the fascia in my brain. This will be fun I thought. A jackhammer to my brain for the next 45 minutes haha. You get used to the sensation and it isn’t painful. I didn’t end up with a headache or anything either. He was explaining that you have a sheet of fascia between your 2 hemispheres and doing this treatment will help straighten it back out. He also went over certain areas in my legs and hips again that were quite physically sensitive.

I explained to him how the treatment he did on the Friday to my legs affected my brain. That I felt like I had these “flashes of memories” running through my head. I couldn’t visibally see them, but it’s as if I felt their presence. I said to him “did I make that up? Or create it in my own mind? Or is that a thing?” He said “some patients have described their experience to me like an old black and white movie. You know the really old, early 1900′s movies that constantly flicker?” And I was like “OMG it is EXACTLY like that!” So I wasn’t imagining it. My body was releasing past memories. He said to just let them go, they obviously needed to get out.

Last night, after my brain hammering, my mood started to shift. I became a little crazy and had a disagreement with my partner. I did not communicate well at all and simply became attacking and passive aggressive. He even said to me “I have no idea who you are right now, it’s like you’re a different person.” Usually a comment like that would upset me or shock me, but I was totally dispondent. I felt nothing. It’s as if my personality disappeared and I had no control over my brain. We sorted out our disagreement and I cried explaining how scary it is to lose control of my mind and not know what’s coming next. He comforted me and then said “I love you so much” and I just burst into tears. He asked me what was wrong and I said “I just don’t understand why you love me?” I remember just feeling immense confusion, as if him loving me made absolutely no logical sense. These are not emotions I have felt before.

When I went to bed I had angry and uncomfortable feelings from vividly remembering my dreams from the night before. I ususally dream constantly when I am asleep due to my illnesses. However on treatment, now my dreams are more vivid, to the point where my brain cannot differentiate between dream land and reality. So even if I logically “get” that it was a dream, the emotions and memory of them effect my sub-conscious and creates uncomfortable feelings. I’ve been having nightmares of people trying to kill me, mass killings, people after me, arguments with people that leave me really angry. I wake up freaking out and have to get up, go to the bathroom or do something so that I can try and get those horrible emotions out of my mind enough to go back to sleep. So going to bed and vividly remembering the dreams I had the night before and the emotions it created as if it was a real event, is not a nice feeling. Then I went to sleep and proceeded to have more realistic and anxiety provoking dreams.

I woke up this morning angry because of what I dreamt. I wasn’t just angry though, I woke up fuming. I knew today was going to be hard and what my Dr did yesterday had really shifted some stuff. All I felt was pure anger. No other emotion. No personality. I was no longer present and it felt horrible. I didn’t want to eat, talk to anybody, do anything. When I got to the clinic I had to put on my poker face. Smile at everybody and have little chats. My partner was hugging me and seeing me stare blankly off into the distance with a look of fury. I was completely disconnected and dispondant. When I was left alone in a treatment room my anger would come back out. I was trying as hard as I could to diffuse it. Telling myself it is only hurting me to be this angry, that it is my body healing and it’s OK, that in a years time this day won’t matter. It felt horrible and uncomfortable and I couldn’t shake it.

In the sauna I was lucky to spend half the time alone and I was able to cry. I thought about how scared I was to not be “me” right now and I have no idea when I’ll return. So tears ran down my face and I felt a little relieved. I got through all my treatments before lunch with my poker face. I sat outside with my partner to try and get some fresh air and enjoy the view of the lake. At this point my anger had shifted to depression. I was still disconnected and dispondant, but I was also really sad. My partner hugged me and I cried again. I didn’t ugly cry (I am a full on ugly crier haha), just a few tears streaming down my face. Then I watched Cedric the Swan (a beautiful white swan that swims on the lake) and his natural antics helped me feel calm and present.

When I saw my Dr. in the afternoon, he walked into his office and said “how are we doing?” and I said “you really messed some shit up.” He made a joke that when he walked in the room I gave him the biggest death stare (which wasn’t intentional). I laughed and said “oh you missed out this morning, I was just pure rage.” So we talked about everything I had experienced and how I was feeling. I said to him “so you released a lot of emotions through the fascia treatment, if my organ that is the worst effected is my liver, is that why my emotion that comes out so strongly is anger? But what about the depression?” He said “that is correct.” He then looked up what emotions are trapped in/controlled by(I’m not sure how you explain it, but different emotions relate to different organs) my liver and it said “anger, depression, resentment, bitterness, hatred.” All the good stuff basically!

What that means is, when emotional traumas will be released in my body, I am most likely to respond with those emotions. He said some people respond with sadness, grief, despair and others. Everyone is different.

The rest of the session was him working on my emotional blockages as that was obviously my biggest problem coming up for the day (through the bioreasonance scanning he did on me). He checked to see if I had a “broken aura” which is very common with chronically ill patients. If you don’t believe in chakras or auras that’s fine, but it certainly resonates with me. He scanned my body and detected that my crown chakra, solar plexus and root chakra were fractured. He told me a story of other patients he had with fractured auras and how this created severe orthostatic intolerance and other physical symptoms due to physical traumas to parts of their body that line up with certain chakras (such as back injuries or medical procedures). When their auras were worked on or “put back together” I guess you could say, they had a dramatic improvement in symptoms (certainly not cured but it was definitely a contributing factor and another piece of their chronic illness puzzle).

I can’t remember exactly what he did and honestly if I explain it it might sound weird. But I 100% trust in what he is doing. It is evident that he and all Dr’s in this clinic are brilliant and very well trained. He made me a new concoction of apricot oil mixed with homeopathics that I have to rub a drop of onto each of my 3 chakra points, 2x a day. My Dr back home has a machine that can read the strength of my chakras so I’ll be interested to see how they read when I get home.

He gave me a homeopathic remedy under my tongue on the spot and I asked him what it was for. It’s what his scanning said I needed and he read what this targeted and I just went “wow yup I needed that.” It was something to do with anger, disconnection, emotionless etc.

So emotionally I’m not feeling as bad as I was this morning. I’m very tired, my liver, spleen and stomach have been aching, my limbs are lethergic and I feel like a sloth when I simply move to pick something up or walk to the bathroom haha. Let’s see what the rest of the week brings.

Lastly, putting my experiences in writing I feel will sound worse than it actually is. It’s hard yes, but nothing I can’t handle. I’ve been through far worse with antibiotics, so at least this is healing me for good and is a sign of my body getting bad stuff out. Don’t be scared if you’re reading this because you’re considering attending this treatment centre. Everyone responds differently. I’m really doing ok :)

#lyme #Lyme Disease #lyme treatment #chronic illness #chronic fatigue syndrome #chronic lyme #hansa #hansa center

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mikazukikannagisjourney · 4 years

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The “Other Epidemics” that Affect Everyone Else (not what you might expect)

Disclaimer: The following are just the author’s personal opinions and do not reflect the ideas and beliefs of the spiritual community, or of the society at large. Inasmuch as the effects of the COVID-19 are deemed as dangerous by the WHO, this post exists to remind people that even if the pandemic never occurred, there are still other epidemics that are still proliferating elsewhere, and that these only seem to be intensified due to extended quarantine periods. Lastly, I post this out of love, not because I want to shame everybody. I am just another person, who may be walking the path of personal development yet also has a shameless Fujoshi side every now and then. I am not immune to these epidemics myself, but at least I have this much guts to put this out there. I don’t think this information has been out, even within the spiritual community so I’m putting this here, regardless if some influencer already beat me to it.

Abstract: It appears that despite the pandemic occuring right now (as of writing, September 4, 2020), there are other epidemics that have been lying under the surface for even longer periods that haven’t been addressed, and yet are still wreaking havoc among people. These are, but not limited to: LONELINESS, ISOLATION, DISCONNECTION, and DISTRACTION. What are the implications of such unaddressed epidemics, especially in terms of the ascension process? Not much, except that as long as the people living in this planet keeps looking outside of themselves to fill in the void inside, then no matter how much the world burns, this emptiness cannot be filled. But this also creates great opportunities for those who wish to get more out of life, albeit at the cost of being scorned by society. But then again, in the greater scheme of things, which one should be deemed more important: what society says, or what the heart and soul truly believes in?

Introduction

(Honestly this whole thing is just my opinion, a combination of what I have been experiencing first-hand, as well as what I have been observing so far, on the world that I have been looking at through other people’s eyes. Also how people have been acting ever since the “pandemic” started became amplified, and even though I don’t want to call it as it is, well for someone who doesn’t give a rat’s ass like me, I’d call a spade a SPADE.)

The title isn’t exactly a click-bait, but if I simply put NO SIMP SEPTEMBER in there, my blog might get blocked by people who go tl;dr because apparently that’s an actual thing? Tsk tsk tsk

OK, so here’s the gist, if you’re still reading this...

A lot of hate has been given to simping lately, and even though I live under a rock, I know what simping means, and no, it doesn’t even mean Squirrels in my Pants-ing (one of Candace’s best hits lolol). To put it in bluntly, it’s the act of uhm, giving, because apparently, people throw money at anything, and lately ANYONE that they deem enjoyable. Name it, you have it. But the simp thing gets pretty complicated when the ANYONE (whoever those would be, not naming anyone lol) demands the viewers to pay, even resorting to violent or verbally abusive tactics just for that to happen, even though originally the whole idea on the payment thing was an extra, a gift, not exactly a requirement. And, well, let’s just say that things can escalate quickly, thus the creation of a phenomenon that not only leads to decrease in self-esteem from the givers aka the simp due to being shamed by many people for giving probably a bit too much, because people can be like that, but this also has the potential to hurt the real-life relationships of said people, not to mention drain their accounts. Again, I am putting this out here not to shame but to release information, because honestly, such phenomenon do have probable causes, and I’m about to lay those out here, so please hear me out before you block me out.

Loneliness and Isolation leads to Disconnection and Distraction, Possible Causes - Esoterically-Speaking

So if you’re going to ask me, under the assumption that you just couldn’t get it, why would some people throw money at other people, even to the point of leaving almost nothing for themselves just to give to other people that “make them happy”? Simple really, it’s like a drug, the other person probably makes the other person feel better about themselves, which is in essence a disconnection from the self, because in reality, a healthy person would have enough know-how to do self-care aka look inside themselves to find out what makes them feel low and then do something about it. But if you feel lost, afraid, having no sense of direction, not knowing what else is there, yeah, I feel you fam. That’s scary as heck, I too was lost for a very, very long time before I ended up awakening consciously. Don’t worry, you’ll get there somehow, you’re already on the way. =)

But what if the giver of donations has a high self-esteem but still does it anyway?

Well, glad you asked.

It is also possible that people resort to simping (there, I freaking said it, zero regrets) because they feel lonely, and wanted some sort of connection to others. Of course, in a perfect world this is easier done, but again, these are trying times, and because humans are genetically-wired to connect to their tribe, then no matter how many times they’re told to do social distancing, they’ll still find a way to be in a crowd. I still stand by following precautions, but I also understand the need to be with other people, on an energetic level. As an empath, even though it sucks to feel other people’s emotions, based on my own experiences, whenever I go out and do some window-shopping, it feels nice to be around people who are calm and enjoying themselves. I’d rather have that than watch anything depressing. But again, the world’s on a lockdown so apart from losing mobility, people are also feeling a sense of loss, which leads to some levels of isolation, thus ending up lonely.

This loneliness can lead to either a decrease in self-esteem leading to seek joys outside the self, in essence a distraction from the reality that the person is in. I mean, when you think about it, nearly everything that is labeled as “entertainment” is a form of distraction. News, TV, music, heck even books and other educational entertainment are simply distractions to what really needs to be solved.

But really, what are we distracting ourselves from?

Many things, actually. It can range from experiencing the apparent reality for what it is, to having to deal with things in the real world that aren’t exactly fun and entertaining. But more than that, these are distractions from facing who we truly are. These are distractions from finding out our true selves. And the harshest one yet: these are distractions from finding and befriending the demons in our head (cue in Gurenge because you can’t stop me now lolololol).

I mean really, who would want to do adulting? Who would wanna enjoy finding the deepest, darkest parts of ourselves? Who actually enjoys just sitting down and drinking tea/coffee and doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING OTHER THAN THAT?

Yes indeed.

Modern society has conditioned people to keep working their butts off, anyone who doesn’t is deemed lazy, and shamed to be even more busy even though their bodies aren’t capable of doing more work. So when the stimuli of having to work gruelly suddenly stops, despite the fact that it gives people a chance to recuperate, the need to do something in order to be “productive” remains, thus causing anxiety to most people. Anxiety due to the extra time. Extra cash. Extra loneliness, extra emotions because for f***’s sake why am I having these jitters and nervousness I gotta get these out but I don’t know how...

And then, cue in the instant-gratification gravy train.

Choose your poison:

Games (I am guilty of this but I am doing my best to curb the need to get at least top 10 in Tetris)

Videos/Movies (I’m on an anime-boy detox right now so judge me however you want I don’t care lol)

Social-media drowning (some simps are probably here)

Watching other people do stuff (simps are here somewhere lol sorry this also includes Vtubers so...)

Doing more work as humanly as possible, no matter how mundane

Comfort-eating (I eat junk as needed so yeah, guilty)

Learning new skills just for the sake of it. Includes webinars

Books/reading materials just to while away the time

Meditating/Zoning out more than the usual (because spiritual communities aren’t truly immune to this shit 100%, those who say they aren’t affected by it are either lying or don’t know what Spiritual By-passing means, yeah I have the guts to call people out, and yes I have been doing spiritual by-passing myself for sometime so I KNOW it’s an actual thing)

Anything that instantly brings a dopamine rush to the brain, however that works for you. Especially the not-so-wholesome activities. (No judgment though, we’re all humans with needs. See comfort-eating)

But really... What do we really need in these precarious times?

I hate to break this to you and admit this myself but.. The reality of this is that these are the times to find our way back into ourselves.... To find out who we truly are, and own that. To be free from the shackles that the brain holds us in. To go further, beyond what we think we can do.

More than that, the entire world is crying out to have real, authentic, unconditional connections. Yes, there, I said it. I mean, really, why would simps throw tens, hundreds, probably even thousands of dollars to someone that they don’t even fully know? Because maybe, just maybe, deep inside, these people are craving to connect to someone, something, anything, to feel whole again. To feel complete. To feel like they have some place to belong to. I am not immune to such feelings. I used to waste time translating chat streams, moderating even though I’m not an official moderator, and not getting anything from it other than seeing other people saying thank you for translating/moderating. I can’t throw money so I throw my time instead lol

But there came a point where I just threw my hands up in the air and just left these groups cold-turkey. I mean really, I suddenly regained some form of self-esteem, and instead of throwing my time onto people who already have been receiving a lot of love from others, it suddenly hit me hard: Why can’t I do that shit to myself? I felt so angry, wasting my time when I could have just tended to my own issues. So I did, even though I have some degree of self-hate because of the time I wasted, I still did my best to come back to myself. Because I deserve it. Even if I can’t do much other than find my inner demons and befriend them one by one, if it means that I can love myself better later then that’s it. Slowly but surely, I found myself again, and even though the time wasted has been gone, at the very least, I felt more hopeful, more open to what the universe can bring.

Yeah, sure, it feels lonely at first, I felt re-isolated again, I wanted to talk to anybody, just to feel heard.. BUt then I realized that I had this blog so, instead of spreading toxicity elsewhere, I just contained it here, at least I can write as much as I want without the huge potential of being flagged/flamed/doxed lol hence the start of the monthly moon posts in here. Yeah, sure, they aren’t a lot but at least I have something to ground myself every so often. I re-read the stuff I write here myself, to remind me that at least, somewhere in time, I gave away my love and it comes back to me somehow. So if you felt that in some of my posts, thank you. =)

It sounds stupid but at least it’s something that helps me become less toxic, as if the world needs more of that now lol

Although I will say, every now and then I still get distracted, but at least I don’t drown myself for hours trying to beat the b******s that prevent me from getting tetris maximus like srsly give the dog a bone why won’t you lololol Also thank goodness this household never got hold of Fall Guys because I might do the same x_x And having sucky internet connection for now does have some perks, right now I am planning my drawing-comeback (I’ll start posting again in my main, soon) so I guess in a way, the universe still gives me some sort of entertainment. Also apparently my channeling got stronger, it only got tested after I isolated myself for a while. Scary, like riding a coaster scary.

But hey, these are just some of my suggestions I’m not a twat sitting on a cloud, I live under a rock in the middle of a rice field lolol

If you’re still reading this, then CONGRATULATIONS! I hope you can get through all of the text. You’re almost done! Don’t stop now lol

Possible Solutions - No Guarantees but at least it’s a possible start

Going within is one option. This just means finding all the hidden issues within yourself, and address them one by one. You can use the following questions to help yourself get started:

What am I distracting myself from?

What am I afraid to face?/What is my greatest fear?

When did this fear happen?

How could I have faced this differently?/ How could this have been a better situation?

What can I do to move past this?

You can either do this exercise alone, or with someone, but don’t exchange judgments, just be supportive of one another. And if you can call on someone like a counselor or a shrink, then feel free to do so. Only masochists like myself do shit like these alone, not recommended unless you want more pain in your life.

If you’re not on the spiritual journey yet, and you found this blog and you related to whatever the heck I wrote here, then good job, that’s one possible option for you. Or if you’re already on the journey but you got distracted like me, don’t worry, you can only go forward, I support you on that. Just go back to the basics of however you founded your spiritual practices on. I just rewatch the stuff that helped me awaken during my dark night of the soul. I also re-read some articles, or just search for updated ones. As always, treat yourself with loving kindness and patience. Only you can do that for you.

If you’ve done whatever you can, and already did everything, and yet you still want to simp, well, then do whatever the heck feels right and good and shameless for you. As long as you don’t hurt anyone, including yourself, and your checking account, then simp as much as you want lol I mean in the end, who am I to tell you what to do? I’m just here to give some suggestions...

Summary, Conclusion, Recommendation

Flu is not the only epidemic there is, aside from diabetes there’s also the invisible epidemic of distraction, brought upon by factors such as loneliness, isolation, and disconnection from the self. It’s easier to look for answers outside of the self, thus many people resort to throwing money at other people aka simping, hoping to fill in the empty feelings inside. But if these same people threw that money or time into their own selves, to find out what the missing pieces in their lives were, then maybe things could get better from there, and while simping will probably remain a thing, as it has been, at least, the simps would be doing that from a better standpoint.

Honestly I am too tired to even think of a concluding statement as well as recommendations so I’ll go directly to disclaimer instead lol

Disclaimer, again: OK I am not against simping in the most wholesome sense, but heck this was posted on No Simp September so maybe this can provide some information to those who need it? I am not exactly the one making the rules here but hey, it’s my blog so do I look like I even care lololol

OK I’m just playing, feel free to do whatever you want, as long as you don’t hurt anybody, including yourself.

Cheers to your well-being, fam.

Offering you my free hugs and love, while wishing you all the best that life has to offer, I remain your friend,

Mikazuki

PS. If you found the information in this post to be very helpful, insightful, and of great value to you and your own personal journey, please feel free to reblog, share and heart/like, or if you feel super-generous, energetic exchanges are welcomed! Please click here and use this email address: [email protected]

Thank you so much and be blessed!

PSS. If you’re interested to get a personal card and energetic reading, for inquires please send an email or an anonymous ask in this page. Thank you! =)

PSSS. I don’t want to put this here due to embarrassment, but my sempai friend probably won’t know this anyway so I’m gonna put it here lol I dedicate this post to tomo-sempai who inspired me to make more posts, even if I don’t have a dedicated fanbase lol ok I’m probably gonna cry after this, like Zen-itsu because NEZUKO-CHAAAAAAAN~ you can’t stop me nowwwwww

#the real epidemic #epidemic of loneliness #epidemic of isolation #epidemic of disconnection #epidemic of distraction #no simp september #this isn't even coincidental #it's a necessity #loneliness #isolation #disconnection #distraction

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