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harrypotterhogwartshitpost · 3 years

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Why Charlie Weasley may or may not have a bipolar disorder in Hogwarts Mystery

(Warning, this post contains spoilers to events in year six, along with side quests that have been pulled and may (or may not) be re-released.)

(Warning this post contains descriptions of major depression along with other mental disorders.)

I would like to start off by saying that I am not a licensed or qualified professional. I am an 18 year old college student who took one semester of online psychology. All the information I will be presenting today comes directly from my intro to psychology textbook. So please take what I say with a grain of salt.

Now let's dive in. For starters, there are two major bipolar disorders. Bipolar I and bipolar II. Both are DSM-5 disorders. Bipolar I disorder is characterized by extreme mania, with manic episodes lasting at least one week. Depressive episodes are common for people with bipolar I disorder, they are not necessary for an DSM-5 diagnosis. Bipolar II disorder is characterized by lesser episodes of hypomania and major depressive episodes. The main difference is bipolar I disorder is defined by extreme mania, while bipolar II disorder is defined by major depression.

Manic and Hypomanic behaviors-

Abnormally upbeat, jumpy, or weird.

Increased activity, energy, or agitation.

Exaggerated sense of well-being or self confidence (euphoria.)

Decreased need for sleep.

Unusual talkativeness.

Racing thoughts.

Distractibility.

Poor decision making.

Hypersexuality.

Substance abuse.

Major Depressive behaviors-

Depressed mood.

Loss of interest or pleasure in activities.

Significant weight loss or gain.

Insomnia or hypersomnia.

Restlessness or slowed behavior

Fatigue or slowed behavior.

Feelings of worthlessness or excessive (inappropriate) guilt.

Indecisiveness/inability to think.

Thinking about or planning suicide.

Keep in mind that since Charlie is a fictional character we can’t really get a good idea of what’s actually going on inside his head, and all we have to go off of is dialog and actions shown directly in Hogwarts Mystery.

People don’t tend to begin showing bipolar symptoms until their teens or twenties, which makes sense as to why the first real manic episode we see from Charlie occurs at the beginning of year five. If you are a long time player of Hogwarts Mystery you may remember the side quest ‘Egg Hunt’ that triggered in year five chapter two before Jam City pulled it for ‘maintenance.’ During this side quest Charlie asks the player to assist him in illegally buying a ‘dragon egg’ from a man in Knockturn Alley. This side quest also involved stealing treasurers from the Red Caps hole to sell in order to raise the money for the egg. While the dragon egg purchased did end up being an acromantula egg, at the time this side quest was very out of character for Charlie as he had never done or attempted to do anything illegal to our knowledge before then. Since Hogwarts Mystery doesn’t give a clear timeline of how long an event or activity takes, we are uncertain the span of time in which ‘Egg Hunt’ took place. However between making plans, stealing from the Red Caps, selling the stolen goods, working a minimum wage job to raise the rest of the funds, buying the egg, waiting for it to hatch, and taking it back to the forest to join the other acromantulas, it’s safe to assume that side quest would take at least a week in real time.

Another possible example of a manic episode is the Adventures in Curse Breaking TLSQ in year six. After Bill mentions one of his missions at Gringotts is taking him to the dragon sanctuary in Romania, Charlie can’t get it out of his head that he’s also going. He even goes as far as showing up to Bill’s job and demanding he take him along. After an arrangement is made to take Charlie, along with the player and a few of their friends, Charlie sneaks out at night to find the golden egg Bill’s looking for on his own. Charlie’s ‘adventure’ takes him to a hungarian horntail cave where he breaks one of his legs and gets trapped there until we find him the next day. While Charlie does manage to find the golden egg, Bill is not shy to remind Charlie how dangerous and irresponsible his little excursion was.

At the beginning of year six in the main story, Charlie admits to the player that he’s planning on dropping out of Hogwarts to move to Romania because he cannot cope with the events of the previous year. It’s completely understandable he feel this way based of how year five ended, and he’s in fact not the only character struggling to cope with what happened. He is left irritable and irrational for the first half of the year; being quick to snap on people (such as yelling at Bill for teaching their friends Langlock because Ben attacked him with it,) and easy to upset. However over the course of the year his mood does improve.

Charlie’s also known to be rather reckless in his day to day life. His favorite hobby is flying into the forbidden forest alone to search for dragons. He also mentions spending time at the black lake feeding the giant squid cereal. One could also consider flying an illegal and untested flying car his father modded from Ottery St. Catchpole to the highlands of Scotland rather manic. For the most part Charlie is oddly energetic and happy. While that’s necessarily a bad thing, it always struck me as odd how, up until year six, almost nothing seemed to bother him. We also see, during both main dialog and side dialog, that Charlie loves to talk (almost as much as he loves to eat.) Charlie also has an obvious hyperfixation on dragons. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t talk about them, read about them, or search for them. He even mentions preferring dragons to people. While Hyperfixation isn’t associated specifically with bipolar disorders, it is a common sign of neurodivergency.

Due to lack of major depressive episodes I believe it’s most likely Charlie fits into bipolar I disorder. However there are four main questions to ask when considering someone for disordered emotions, thoughts and/or behaviors.

Does it deviate from cultural norms for what is acceptable?

Is it maladaptive? (preventing someone from properly adapting to situations in a way that suits their best interest.)

Does it cause the individual personal distress or threaten other people?

Does it cause discomfort and concern to others?

While I’m not caught up on wizarding culture during the 1980s, I believe it’s safe to assume a handful of Charlie’s behaviors are not typically considered acceptable. His behaviors are also quite clearly maladaptive as they constantly involve putting himself at unnecessary risk. While he’s not always putting others in danger, Charlie does often show remorse and distress after coming down from a manic episode. While the characters in Hogwarts Mystery may not react strongly to Charlie’s actions, I personally as a player am a bit concerned for him.

I’m not here to say for sure that Charlie’s bipolar or struggles with bipolar I disorder. What I am here to say is it’s definitely something to consider as a player, and it’s not completely out of reach for one to think he might.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #harrypotterhogwartsshitpost

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Episode 2, Part 1

Hello all, here comes the first part of the second episode to Midnight Striga, my Fairy Tail/Owl House crossover fic! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

With a spine-cracking yawn, literally her spine cracked from doing it once, Eda, the Owl Lady of Bonesburough, woke up for another day of living her life of freedom and liberty from Bone-head’s regime. With a tired sigh, idly wondering where she put the Apple Blood, Eda trudged down the stairs. Unusually for her, her mind was exceptionally clear this morning, something that she usually needed at least two to three cups of Apple Blood to fully achieve. In her musings, Eda’s mind turned to her new housemate, and the nearly mind-breaking revelations she had received the day before.

“So, humans can actually use magic, so our whole belief of it coming from the Titan probably has some holes in it, among other things. Heh, wonder how Lily would take all of this?” Eda pondered, for once not shying away from thoughts of her estranged sister. Letting out another yawn, Eda ambled downward, mind languidly scrolling back and forth, trying to figure out what the feeling of differentness was coming from. Just as she was about to give up, something she does gladly if she doesn’t really care about the subject, her nose caught a whiff of something. Honestly, whatever it was, it smelled divine! Inhaling deeply, a surge of alertness rippling through her body, and making a note to ask the kid about that for later, Eda took stock of her surroundings again, finally nailing what had been confusing her.

Her place had been cleaned.

That by itself wasn’t too unusual, despite what some people may believe, Eda is not a slob, and tries to keep things as neat as she alone possibly can, and she regularly used cleaning house as a way to keep herself busy when her boredom was at its worst. But this was different. The walls were scrubbed, her junk (Treasures! She said treasures) had been sorted and organized, which, she admitted, definitely cut back on the amount of space they took up.

Deciding that trudging all the way to the kitchen or living room wouldn’t be able to satisfy her curiosity, Eda called out. “Hey Kid! Did you go through my stuff?”

“Sorry, Miss Eda!! I was a bit too eager to get started, so I kinda, sorta, got everything settled? I hope that’s okay? Is it okay? I hope it’s okay.”

Eda blinked. That… was odd. The kid was rambling, something that definitely seemed at odds with the cool, level-headedness she had displayed prior. Making her way over, she got a look at the girl, her suspicions confirmed. Wide-eyed, with heavy bags, hair an utter mess, clothes mismatched. Luz was a mess; by Eda’s best estimate, she either hadn’t gotten to sleep at all last night, or had gotten up so soon afterwards it made no difference, and had spent the entire time working on the house.

“Kid?” Eda hesitantly broached. “How long have you been up?”

Luz blinked. “All night. I never went to bed, not really. I mean, I tried to sleep, but then my brain started racing, makes sense, whole new world and all, and so much to do, so much to explore, I can finally read my notes and research!! HOW AWESOME IS THAT!! But it was too dark to read, and I didn’t wanna risk waking you up with a light, so I got started on all the junk you’ve got lying around.” She leaned against aforementioned junk, now neatly sorted into manageable stacks, you could actually tell what it was!!

What Luz was leaning against appeared to be a stack of crystals and devices that had crystals stuck into them. Eda had never really thought about selling them, they didn’t have any of the oddness to them that got her other junk snapped up, but the way Luz was staring so intently at them made Eda feel like she lucked out by holding on to them.

Luz shot forward, an absolutely manic grin stretching across her face. “WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU HAD SO MANY LACRIMAS!?!??!?”

Eda blinked, that feeling of having lucked out screaming through her. She still had no clue what Lacrimas were, but if how Luz was reacting was any indicator, they were something valuable. And she apparently had a LOT of them!!

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Yeah, as much as Eda wanted to cash in on this, it was better to head the kid off while she could, get a little info, than use a sleep spell on her before she did something stupid.

Luz blinked, clearly confused, before responding, slapping a hand to her forehead in realization. “Right, you’d have no clue what that is, different world and all that.” Luz rocked back, her tired eyes clearing some of the crazy out, and gaining some much needed clarity of thought. “Lacrima are basically pure magic condensed into a solid, crystal state. They are used in a lot of ways, but they are typically reserved for high-end stuff, not counting the lower-quality, disposable ones.” She glanced around, getting a better feel of what all she did last night. “I honestly have no clue where or how you got so many, or what the average quality of them all is, but it’s a huge find.” She turned her gaze back to a contemplative Eda. “But that’s not what you actually want to talk to me about, is it?” She mused.

Eda snorted, impressed that the girl had managed to gather her thoughts while as addled as she was. “You’re not wrong, kid. I was gonna ask you to handle my potion deliveries, something I use to keep grub on the table in addition to my stand, but from what I can see, you aren’t in any shape to go off into town.” She arched an eyebrow, almost daring Luz to challenge her. Naturally, Luz obliged.

“Hey, you got nothing to worry about!” She boldly declared, gesturing to the concoction she was currently mixing. “I’m brewing up an energy booster to get me through the day. It’s not my area of study, but I’ve had to make these enough times before to get good results.” She turned a grin towards Eda that under normal circumstances probably would’ve been smug, but just looked sleepy at the moment.

Eda chewed her lip, contemplative. “Okay, if this actually works, you can head out today, but you’ll have to take King with you, just to be safe, got it?” Her snappy tone was undercut by the hint of worry and concern within.

“Yes! Wacked out alternate dimension, here I come!!” Luz cheered, just barely avoiding knocking her mixture to the ground. Putting out a hand to steady it, she carefully spooned out her Pick-Me-Up Potion, patent pending, and deposited the potent mixture directly onto her tongue, wincing at the intensely sour flavor. Any further thoughts were cut off as the Potion started to do its job.

Eda watched, a mix of fascination and disgust playing across her face at the sight before her. The contortions and sounds alone were enough to turn even her stomach, but she couldn’t deny that, when the horrific ordeal was over, Luz certainly looked refreshed and energized. Still, if she never saw THAT again, it would be too soon.

“Ah!” Luz sighed, drawing her arms out in a spine pulling stretch. “Man, that always feels GREAT!!! So, when do I head out?” She asked, oblivious to Eda’s prior disgust.

Shaking off her discomfort, Eda pulled off a grin. “Well, kid, as soon as we get King out of that pile of food,” she gestured to the aforementioned Demon gorging himself on the snacks Luz had prepared in her sleep deprived activity. “You and him can head into Bonesburough to get my potions dropped off and give you a better lay of the land.” Eda finished.

With a beaming grin, Luz rushed over to King, yanking the now frantically squirming demon out of the pile of food, and stood stock still in front of Eda, a gaze shining with excitement burning in her eyes. Getting the hint, Eda rolled her eyes and brought out the sack of potions. Still, Eda couldn’t really fight the grin that cracked at the eagerness of her new tenant.

With a smirk, Eda decided to give the girl a little breather to adjust to her new energy before she headed out. “So kid, before you go running off, is there anything in particular you wanna know about the Isles?” Whatever the kid said, it shouldn’t be too much trouble to deal with.

“Why exactly are you a criminal?” Luz asked steadily, having released King to his meal at Eda’s question.

Oh, so it would be a bit of trouble to answer. With a sigh, Eda dragged her hand down her face. “It’s because I never joined a coven.” At the look of blank incomprehension, Eda decided to head the question off. “And I’m guessing you don’t know what those are, right?”

“You are correct.” Luz knew about Guilds, but whatever a Coven was, it wasn’t anything she’d ever heard of before.

Eda smirked at that, she wondered how the kid would react to what she had to say. “Well, here on the Isles, we follow what’s known as the Coven System. I won’t get into the really complex bits, but the overarching rules are these: firstly, joining a Coven means you can only perform magic that goes with the Coven, secondly, while some exceptions have been made in the past, once you join a Coven, you are stuck with that one for the rest of your life, and finally, joining a Coven is mandatory, and if you don’t join a Coven, you’re branded a criminal and a heretic. A heretic like me, for instance.” She sat back, confident the kid wouldn’t condemn her, but nervous as to how she would react as a whole.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. Luz was utterly still, her eyes shadowed by her hair. Nothing gave any hint as to her thoughts, aside from the tight clenching of her fists. “That. Is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard in my life.” Luz was incensed. What she was hearing was what sounded like one of the most self-serving and oppressive systems she had ever heard of. The only thing she could accurately compare it to was the old system used by the Alvarez Empire, which drafted any and all magic users in the country into their army, whether they liked it or not.

“Trust me kid, you don’t know the half of it.” Eda chuckled bitterly. She couldn’t lie, seeing someone else have that same level of anger at the system was cathartic for her. Who knows, maybe the kid could stir things up around this place?

Luz huffed, her excitement for the day ahead lost in the wake of that wonderful news. “Well now, at least I won’t have to worry about making a good impression with the locals.” Her deadpan comment released a raucous roar of laughter from the Witch across from her.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAA!!! Kid, you have nothing to worry about in that regard. Aside from jackasses like Wrath, people around here are pretty chill for the most part.” Eda replied.

Luz was unconvinced. “Ya sure about that?” She asked, crossing her arms, almost challengingly.

Eda grinned. “Yeah, they are; they might freak out about your appearance for a bit, but after a short while, they’ll just stop caring altogether. Any issues are more likely to crop up from elitists and die-hard conformists like Wrath, or people who actively look down on Humans.” Considering just how big Bonesburough was as a whole, Eda was certain the second was more likely to occur than the first, but even that wouldn’t be too common all around.

Luz snorted. “So, my biggest concerns for the near future are the always fun to deal with local racists. Hooray.” The utterly flat reply sent King snorting from his spot by his meal, with Eda joining him a second later.

King decided now was a good time to pipe up. “Eh, they talk a big game, but anyone who actually gives anything about you being a Human is just blowing smoke, or thinks they're bigger than they are.” While Eda would ordinarily point out the fact that King himself regularly thought he was bigger than he was, she internally conceded that he had a point.

King looked up, pondering everything that had happened yesterday. “Luz, you are crazy strong, even by the usual craziness of Bonesburough. Nothing other than the guards can really threaten you in town, and the guards are only a problem because of their magic, and they aren’t that good at using it as a whole, either.” A great and mighty king of demons he may be, but let none say that King was stupid, nor that he was foolish. “Luz, you shook things up on a level that nobody has done in decades.” He turned to the girl, his eyes gleaming. “Things are gonna start changing now because of it, and I wanna be here for that change. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Eda grinned, proud of her oldest charge. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.” Before King could start boasting, Eda smooshed his fur, sending him into a tizzy as he tried to fix his “luxurious mane,” and turned back to Luz. “I may not have phrased it all that well earlier, but while things may not be smooth-sailing for you, you’ve got more than enough power to handle nearly anything that comes your way. And if need be, you’ve got the Owl Lady herself in your corner!”

Luz grinned softly at the older Witch, eyes slightly teary. “Thanks Eda, that means a lot.” She croaked out. What could she say, they were both being really sweet! Turning back to King, she found he had settled down, and was waiting patiently, for him anyway, by the door, lightly gesturing both to it, and the sack of potions she would be delivering. Getting the message, Luz scooped the sack back up, gave a quick hug to Eda, much to her surprise, and headed out the door, King eagerly trotting behind her.

Eda sighed. “That kid is gonna get into so much trouble… and I won’t be able to see any of it!” She complained. “Hooty… WHAT ARE YOU DOING DRINKING THAT POTION!?!?”

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #king the owl house #magic

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andrewmoocow · 3 years

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Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 5: Snow Day (originally published on January 4, 2021)

Author's Note: This will be the second to last chapter before we really start breaking off from canon and go off the rails with my ideas. Just a chill little episode, nothing truly special, just some cute fun. Now then, happy 2021 and, let's hope it won't be as much of a travesty as 2020 was.

Synopsis: The Gems try to cheer up an overworked Steven.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven

Estelle as Garnet

Michaela Dietz as Amethyst

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl

Aimee Mann as Opal

Nicki Minaj as Sugilite

Alexia Khadime as Sardonyx

Rita Rani Ahuja as Alexandrite

Charlyne Yi as Ruby

Erica Luttrell as Sapphire

Michelle Maryk as Larimar

Ian Jones Quartey as Snowflake Obsidian

Amy Sedaris as Teal Zircon

Jennifer Paz as Lapis Lazuli

On one freezing winter's day in Beach City, snow began to fall from the sky at Little Homeworld, marking another snow day for many of the Gems living there and the first for those just joining Little Homeschool, including one Gem in particular.

"Hey, what's with all this white stuff that's got so many Gems excited?" Teal Zircon wondered, reaching out to try and grab some snowflakes in her hands. Unfortunately for her, the snowflakes instantly melted with her touch. "Aw!"

"That's what they call snow TZ." Little Larimar informed her fellow corruption victim as she helped Snowflake Obsidian build an igloo. "It's what happens what water in the clouds gets super cold and drops from the sky like rain. It's where Snowflake here gets her name from."

"Hey, snowball fight!" Snowflake cried out as she bundled together a large amount of snow to make into a snowball, and she tossed it straight at Teal Zircon. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?"

"Okay?" Teal asked as she slowly emerged from the giant snowball. "I'm better than okay!" She then began to form a snowball of her own from Snowflake's snow to make hers. "I wanna fight!"

Unfortunately, TZ's snowball was incredibly poorly made and fell apart when she threw it.

"Come along; I'll show you how to make a good snowball." Larimar said to the Zircon. "But in the meantime, I have my own battles to fight."

Larimar picked up some snow of her own to form into projectiles, and manically tossed them everywhere with a creepy grin on her face. "YES! YES, TREMBLE BEFORE MY SUPERIOR THROWING SKILLS!"

Elsewhere, Steven woke up from a good night's sleep and turned off the alarm on his phone. "All right, Little Homeschool, what's on the itinerary today?" he muttered while picking up his phone and examining the schedules he had lined up. "Let's see, Gem-Teacher Association meeting this evening from 4:00 to 5:00, clinic tomorrow at 3:00, interpretive dance class today at noon; might have to find someone to cover for me there, baseball practice tomorrow morning and volleyball game next week."

After reading off the schedule, Steven gave himself a good stretch before getting out of bed. "You can do it!"

After getting dressed and heading downstairs, Steven immediately got to work on preparing for his day by pouring some water when Amethyst came strolling in with fried eggs over her eyes.

"You really gonna skip the most egg-ssential meal of the day?" Amethyst cracked a pun while pointing to the eggs.

"Of course not." Steven stated, barely even noticing her joke. "I've got all the nutrients I need in my protein shake."

As Steven walked away, Amethyst sadly poked at the yolks on her face. "Dude, you're making me sad."

"Steven," Garnet called with a backpack shaped like a cheeseburger in her hands. "I packed everything you need for today in your old cheeseburger backpack."

"Uh, I don't really need that thing anymore." Steven abstained from taking his childhood bag while presenting the satchel he packed. "Besides, I already got one."

"At least pet this cat." Garnet replied, cuing her one-eyed Calico Cat Steven to emerge from the backpack with a meow.

"Why was I going to need-" Steven began getting more miffed before stopping himself. "Never mind, I gotta go."

"Hold it!" Pearl stopped Steven in his tracks while gazing at her phone. "According to my weather application, we're expecting quite a bit of snow today and tomorrow." She revealed while showing the current temperature off and held out some winter clothes to put on him. "You're going to freeze if you don't put on a puffer, a hat and two scarves. Okay, maybe three would do."

"Pearl, I need to go!" Steven muffled beneath the scarves, preventing Pearl from wrapping a third one around his neck.

"But classes don't start for another couple of hours." Pearl said.

"Wait for us." Garnet suggested as she took the scarf from Pearl and wrapped it on her neck. "We can come with you."

"Why even take that old Dondai when you can just use the Warp Pad?" Amethyst pointed out as she slurped the eggs off her face.

"Because I have errands I need to run before class." Steven revealed. "Now then, can I please go now?"

"You got it." Garnet beamed before putting a hand in Steven's hair. "Go get 'em, champ."

"Yeah, see you soon!" Amethyst and Pearl said in unison while putting their hands in Steven's hair as well, much to his chagrin.

As Steven finally left the beach house and drove away, the Gems took a few moments to talk as they gazed out the frosted window.

"Hey guys, you think Steven's become kinda boring lately?" Amethyst asked Garnet and Pearl.

"It must be because he's got so much to do." Pearl suggested morosely. "How about we surprise him when he gets back?"

"I think I know just what to do." Garnet stated coolly.

One of Steven's errands took him all the way to Little Homeworld. What he was unaware of, however, was the massive snowball fight its inhabitants were waging, and now he was going to be caught in the crossfires.

Upon stopping his car and setting a foot outside, Steven was immediately pelted with snow from all sides. "Whoa guys, settle down!" he cried out while protecting himself from the cold onslaught with his shield. "I said, settle down!"

However, not a one was paying attention to Steven, and they were too busy having fun to notice he had arrived.

"Uh, can I have your attention please? Anyone?" Steven began getting more desperate for someone to notice him while watching Lapis heave an entire pyramid of snowballs with her water powers at a few of the Quartzes, which gave him an idea. "Okay, you all tried my hand."

Steven picked up some snow of his own and formed it into a ball of his own, which he used to throw straight at Snowflake Obsidian.

"Ooh!" Snowflake grunted as she felt the snowball hit her back, and turned to discover that Steven had thrown it. "Steven! Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Just wanted to get someone's attention." Steven admitted before Snowflake turned to her fellow Gems.

"Hey everyone, Steven's here! Let's get to class!" Snowflake announced.

The moment everyone else realized Steven had come, they slowly stopped their snowball fight and began preparing for classes.

"Hey, you don't need to stop what you're doing." Steven tried convincing them otherwise. "I'm only here for a few errands. Besides, classes don't start for another few hours."

However, nobody listened to Steven, and they continued preparing, just as he decided to continue on with his errands.

That night, Steven had finally returned home after a long day and was ready to eat dinner, go to bed and prepare for tomorrow. But when he turned on the house lights, he found his three guardians all sitting on the couch, anticipating his return.

"Surprise!" the three Gems cheered.

"We were sitting in the dark!" Amethyst admitted in addition.

"Hey, everyone." Steven greeted the trio. "Uh, what are you all so excited about?"

"Guess what we got lined up for tonight?" Amethyst said, holding a DVD in her hands. "Pupcopter's Sky-High Adventure!"

"Sheet masks with cute animal faces!" Pearl added, demonstrating the masks by putting a panda one on her face.

"And most importantly, pizza." Garnet declared as she opened up a pizza box with a pie inside. "Straight from Fish Stew."

When the Gems expected Steven to be all over these activities, he was a bit more reluctant. "Uh guys," Steven said. "I've been a vegetarian for six months, Pupcopter is for six-year-olds, and I got a skincare routine now. You all should've known by now. Anyways, I already ate, but it's cool you want to have fun. Later."

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were left disappointed as Steven walked upstairs to his room.

"Well, guess we can watch the movie with Cat Steven, if that counts." Amethyst said.

"My bad." Garnet apologized as she examined the pizza and then dumped it in Amethyst's mouth like the smaller Gem was a trashcan. "I thought we were in the pepperoni timeline."

The next morning, Steven was woken up by his phone once again. When he raced down the stairs to start his day, the Gems were sitting around the table with waffles covered in whipped cream, syrup, popcorn, and a strawberry on top.

"Look Steven, Together Breakfast!" Pearl called to Steven, in an attempt to bring his attention to a familiar food. "Just like old times."

"Too much sugar for me, but thanks." Steven hurriedly stated as he opened the front door. "See you at work guys!" But surprisingly for Steven, a massive pile of snow dropped down on him. "Okay, just gotta take the warp then."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Amethyst cautioned Steven as he made his way to the Warp Pad, and just like the door, he was greeted by snow covering him from head to toe by the warp tunnel.

"Looks like we have to cancel Little Homeschool for the day." Steven realized. "Pearl, can you send everyone a mass text?"

"Already on it!" Pearl declared as she whipped out her phone to give everyone at the Gem village the news.

"Hold up!" Amethyst yelped. "Are you basically saying we get the day off?"

"Great, we can re-read No Home Boys!" Pearl replied, excitedly looking up from her phone.

"And I can do the voices again." Garnet added.

"No, I don't need anyone reading to me right now." Steven said firmly while taking out a notebook. "If anything, I need to get the calendar organized. This snow-mageddon is definitely going to put a damper on third-quarter plans."

As Steven got out his calendar, some post-it notes, and a pen to organize plans for Little Homeschool's third quarter, Amethyst sat down at the same table he was working at across from him. "You used to have a better work ethic when we were constantly at risk of Homeworld and the Diamonds attacking Earth." Amethyst remarked. "Now, with Era 3 in full swing, you've become kinda boring."

"That was then Amethyst. This is now." Steven responded without even looking up from his work. "And what makes you think I'm getting boring?"

"Well, I mean, you didn't eat Together Breakfast with us, didn't laugh at my egg pun yesterday, and didn't want to put on your cheeseburger backpack." Amethyst listed off. "I get that you want to be more responsible now, but sometimes it's fun reliving old memories." Suddenly, a great idea flickered to life over the purple Gem's head. "Hey, you know what we haven't played in ages?"

"I don't know, what?" Steven asked before Amethyst abruptly shapeshifted into his 14-year old self and jumped onto the table.

"STEVEN TAG!" the now Steven-like Amethyst yelled and attempted to tag Steven, much to his alarm.

"Amethyst, what the heck?!" Steven cried out.

"You know the rules buster!" Amethyst cackled. "You get tagged; you have to turn into Steven! Or, in this case, Classic Steven!"

"Wait, Classic Steven?!" Steven said incredulously before he started running from the pursuing Amethyst all around the living room. But even when Steven rushed into the bathroom for safety, Amethyst was still on the hunt.

"Steeeeveeeen, come out to plaaaaay!" Amethyst laughed as she began clacking glass bottles together. "I always wanted to reference that old movie."

"I'm not playing!" Steven insisted as he blocked up the bottom of the door with a towel and sat on it. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Dangit, got me with the towel one-two!" Amethyst groaned as she failed to break into the bathroom. "Fine, maybe we don't always need Steven to play Steven Tag."

As Amethyst seemingly walked away in defeat, Steven peeked out of the bathroom to check if she was truly gone. While he sneaked out into the living room hoping to get some work done, Steven instead found Garnet looking around on the floor.

"Hey Garnet, lose something?" Steven asked the perma-fusion.

"I've been looking for Cat Steven." Garnet answered. "Haven't seen her all morning. I think she may be in the cabinets."

"Like, in here?" Steven asked as he pointed to one of the cupboards.

"That's the one." Garnet cheekily replied while she held Cat Steven in her arms. As Steven opened the cabinet, Amethyst leaped out at him, still in the shape of Classic Steven.

"GET READY FOR STEVEN TAG!" Amethyst yelled in another attempt to tag Steven, but she instead tagged Garnet by accident.

"What an unexpected turn of events." Garnet flatly declared as she laid on the floor, and obediently turned into Classic Steven as well. The two Gems stared menacingly at Steven, who was trying fruitlessly to escape.

"Uh, see ya guys!" Steven stuttered before making a run for it, but then accidentally tripped on a pillow. As Garnet and Amethyst leaped up and prepared to tag him, Steven prepared a bubble to protect himself from them.

"You can't hide in there forever!" Garnet yelled as she prepared to break the bubble open with a punch. Thinking quickly, Steven got up and began running towards the temple gate, accessing the cloud-like room that his mother once used when she was alive, and tossed the pair inside before making his way out.

"That should keep you guys busy for a while." Steven huffed as the door closed behind him, and he returned to the calendar on the table. "Now I can finally get these schedules done in peace."

However, Steven was quickly proven wrong as Garnet raced out of the nearly empty Burning Room, with Amethyst in hot pursuit.

"Thank you so much for helping me shovel off the snow Lapis." Pearl thanked Lapis at Little Homeworld as they finished work on cleaning all the walkways.

"No big Pearl, it's just frozen water." Lapis remarked coolly. "Anyways, how's everyone doing back at your place?"

"Well, Steven said he wanted to get some scheduling done for Quarter Three with all this snow, and-" Pearl answered, but then felt a disturbance somewhere. "I feel like my Steven Sense is tingling."

"Your Steven what-now?" Lapis asked with an eyebrow raised. "I get that you're essentially a mom to Steven, but what's that for?"

"Feels like something's happening back home." Pearl realized as she marched back to the Warp Pad with snow shovel in hand. "Anyways, thanks for the assistance; I'll see you all again soon!" she said her farewells before the Warp Pad took her back to the temple.

When Pearl returned home, she found Steven in a panic as he was being chased by Garnet and Amethyst shapeshifted into him. "Steven, what are you doing? Has cabin fever took you over already?!"

"It's Garnet and Amethyst!" Steven answered hastily as he continued running from the aforementioned Gems. "They're only playing Steven Tag to mess with me!"

"Steven Tag?" Pearl began to reminisce. "That sure takes me back to the old days. I'm sure they-AH!"

Before Pearl could finish, Garnet officially tagged her, and she began to keel over.

"Ha, the joke's on you!" Steven yelled. "Pearl doesn't like to shapeshift!"

Unfortunately for Steven, he was instantly proven otherwise as Pearl began to glow, and her shape changed into that of Classic Steven.

"The power of Steven Tag COMPELS ME!" the now Steven-esque Pearl declared, sparking delight from her fellow veteran Gems as they giggled and tossed her into the air.

"Wow, good for her." Steven chuckled, just as proud of this big step for Pearl. But when the three Gems all leered at their ward, Steven finally realized how outnumbered he now was.

The Steven-resembling Crystal Gems chased the prime Steven all around the house, from his bedroom, to the conservatory, to the stairway, and then back to his room. In his bedroom, Steven thought of a way to distract Pearl by tossing his old shirts on the floor.

"No Steven, I just folded those!" Pearl yelled as her motherly intuition began to take priority over playing, and she tided up the shirts as Steven fled.

With no other option, Steven was forced to flee into the freezing cold outside, his body temperature be damned. "They can't hold those forms forever." He panted. "I'll just wait until they give u-"

Just then, a massive fist dropped from above and smashed the snow behind Steven, and he discovered none other than Sugilite, the fusion of Garnet & Amethyst, standing on a cliff above him.

"Missed me little man?" Sugilite, also in the shape of the younger Steven, asked confidently as she whipped her flail above her head.

"Wait, you fused?" Steven gasped and began running again. "When was the last time anyone has seen Sugilite?!"

"Come back here, kid!" Sugilite snarled eagerly while Steven used his shield as a sled to escape.

"Seriously, this is dangerous!" Steven panted before he was barraged by a rain of snowballs, all courtesy of an also Classic Steven-like Sardonyx.

"Aw come on, don't be so cold!" Sardonyx joked before preparing more snowballs. "Now stay still, I got you in my sights!"

"I'm still not playing!" Steven shouted as he swerved his shield away from the snowballs, only to lose control and disappear behind the temple's discarded hand.

High above on the rooftop, Opal stood ready to fire Garnet with her bow. "Target acquired!" she exclaimed, pointing the other Universe-looking fusion at a figure resembling Steven. "Now!"

When Garnet was propelled at what she thought was Steven, it was instead a snowman wearing his jacket. "Curses, foiled by a snowman." Garnet overdramatically declared, followed by a very monotonous "Noooooooo."

Faraway from Garnet and Opal, Steven was finally free after distracting them with the snowman, but he was very cold too.

"They won't stop until they make me play." Steven declared boldly, that is until a massive shadow loomed over him. Just like all the other times before, it was a fusion taking the form of his younger self. But this time, it was Alexandrite. "Oh geez!"

"You're looking cold." Alexandrite boomed before launching a giant fireball from her mouth at a panicking Steven, who formed a bubble to shield himself from the fire.

"I really didn't want to do this, but you all forced my hand!" Steven shouted while the bubble disappeared, leaving him surrounded by a ring of fire. "I'll play your game!"

Alexandrite grinned eagerly as Steven leaped to her head and bounced off it to the beach house. The massive three-Gem fusion attempted to catch Steven in her hands, but he quickly dodged the attempt and just as quickly tried ascending to the top of the lighthouse.

"There's no way she can catch me!" Steven said to himself just as Alexandrite made it before him and un-fused into Ruby, Sapphire, Amethyst and Pearl. Everyone except for Sapphire proceeded to bombard Steven, but he had just about had it as he leaped towards the three Gems with bubbles forming around his fists.

"ENOUGH, IS, ENOUGH!" Steven yelled as he punched Ruby, Amethyst and Pearl away in rapid succession, and then leaped up to the top of the lighthouse in triumph. "You shouldn't have messed with me." He said menacingly, just as he realized he forgot a Gem.

"Tag." Sapphire declared as she snuck up and tagged Steven from behind, ending the game and sealing her as the victor.

"OH NO, IS THIS THE END OF MY ADULT LIFE?!" Steven cried as he fell off the lighthouse onto the ground below. Back on solid earth, Ruby, Amethyst & Pearl checked on Steven while Sapphire returned downstairs to meet them.

"Sapphire, you did it! You're the best!" Ruby cheered for her blue bride before they kissed and fused back into Garnet.

"You've been tagged." Garnet confidently stated.

"You gotta turn into widdle ol' Steven now!" Amethyst jokingly taunted.

"You did set the rules all those years ago." Pearl added.

"No!" Steven refused with a fold of his arms.

"DO IT, DO IT, DO IT!" the Gems chanted excitedly. Cat Steven suddenly appeared to agree with them with a meow.

"Et tu Cat Steven?" Steven asked his feline friend, who responded with another meow. "Okay, I'll do it!"

Then, in a flash of light, Steven reluctantly turned himself into a child to match his guardians, to the point where his clothes barely fit him anymore. And they were happy.

"HE'S SO CUTE!" Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl cooed at the younger Steven, to his disappointment.

"No, I'm not!" Steven yelled, his voice now matching his current state. "It's tough for me, y'know? I feel like no matter how much I grow, how much I try to mature, you'll always just see me as a little kid."

"Buddy, we just wanted to spend time with you." Amethyst shrugged.

"Yeah." Pearl agreed with Amethyst. "Just like when you were-"

"A kid?" Steven finished for Pearl, eliciting many frowns. "I really didn't want to disappoint you guys, but I'm not the Steven you babied so much anymore." He proclaimed while returning to his original form. "Please, I need you to see me for who I am now."

This prompted the Gems to tear up and finally hug Steven. "Please forgive us." Garnet sobbed.

"We didn't mean to hurt your feelings!" Amethyst said just as sadly. "We didn't realize we were kinda acting like kids too."

"We just miss you Steven!" Pearl said. Soon, Steven began to cry as well as he looked down at the sad Gems.

"We're sorry!" the trio apologized in unison.

"I missed you guys too." Steven accepted the apology while the chilly weather began to take effect on him. "You know, it was pretty nice to spend time with y-ACHOO!" Without even being asked, Amethyst extended her arm to fetch Steven's pink jacket for him. "Thanks Amethyst."

"Steven, we're very proud of the person you've become." Garnet complimented her ward.

"Yeah, that's why we wanted to hang out with you so much." Amethyst stated.

"But if you want to go back to work," Pearl added. "That's okay with us."

"Well, I can't." Steven answered confidently as he put his jacket back on. "Because TAG!" he added by tackling Garnet. "You're it!"

"I guess we have to update the game." Garnet realized before transforming to match Steven's age. "To this."

And so, Steven Tag began anew with Steven and Garnet chasing Amethyst and Pearl down the mountain.

The next morning, Steven woke up once again. But this time, he was feeling more cheerful and had the Gems by his side.

With his winter clothes on, Steven hopped into the car with the Crystal Gems, also in winter gear over their regular forms, and they shared a laugh until the car set off for Little Homeworld.

So ends Snow Day. We're getting very close to the end of Part 1, and next up is my favorite episode of Future, Why so Blue, too. But after Why so Blue, things will start to get a little different. Perhaps pertaining to a certain Off-Color fusion between a Ruby and a Pearl, or the mystery Gem we've been foreshadowing since Cracks and Buds. Anyways, Happy New Year readers and see you next week!

#steven universe #steven universe future #fanfiction #steven universe alternate future #steven quartz universe #garnet #amethyst #pearl #opal #sugilite #sardonyx #alexandrite

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puddygeeks · 4 years

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Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 21: Gᴜɴsʜᴏᴛs Iɴ Tʜᴇ Dᴀʀᴋ

Masterlist

Episode: Day Trip

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Twenty-One

I hurried as I travelled back to Raven and Finn, who were gathering a small group at the far end of the camp. The light was fading rapidly from the sky, so I occupied myself with building a fire that I could settle people around to keep them warm. Raven approached me with confusion.

“What are you doing back here? I thought you two were dealing with the ship side?” She asked and my stomach lurched as I realised that my lies were starting to clash. I mentally cursed Octavia for cornering me into this and tried to think of a believable answer.

“There was hardly anyone left over there so I bought them over this way, I thought it would make sense to keep everyone together.” I commented, using some honesty to buy myself time. I had checked that there was no one near the dropship before returning, so I was confident in sharing this information. “Octavia’s staying there a little longer to double check there’s no leftovers.” I surprised myself at how easily I lied and I continued with my task to ensure that my words seemed casual and authentic. “Okay, the fire’s going, it’s getting darker so it’ll get real cold soon. Could you send anyone who is calm enough over this way and I’ll start wrapping them up. We also need to get water, we might as well try flushing it out of people. The sooner we can get this out of their system, the better.” I instructed as I tried to both change the subject from Octavia’s whereabouts and consider the needs of the camp simultaneously.

“Yes ma’am.” Raven replied willingly and I was surprised not to find any sarcasm in her tone. It was unusual for me to take control of a situation but as our normal leaders were off jaunting in the woods, I didn’t have much choice but to step up. My stomach lurched as Bellamy’s strange behaviour earlier flitted through my mind and I had to force it out so that I could concentrate on the situation in front of me. Finn slowly made his way over with several containers of water and I smiled at him as I took them gratefully.

“Thanks. Are you sure you should be up and about just yet, Mr Big Hero?” I asked as I assessed him with concern. He seemed to be moving fine but I was uncomfortable allowing him to be so active without Clarke here to clear him for action. He smiled bashfully at the name.

“I think I’m ready to manage a little babysitting.” He chuckled under his breath. “Raven said that you helped a lot with the surgery and all that. Thanks for keeping her calm, I know it can’t have been an easy task.” He spoke evenly and his tone was genuinely thankful. I cleared my throat awkwardly and decided not to mention that we likely wouldn’t be sharing a moment like that again for a while.

“You’re welcome, we’ve gotta keep our numbers up.” I replied as an excuse and he laughed. “Besides, I hardly did anything. Raven and Clarke were the real MVPs.” I replied gingerly, rubbing the back of my neck and hoped to scare off his kindness.

“I don’t know, I heard some pretty tough radio talk, even through my coma.” He laughed playfully as he peeked at me. “I think you might have missed your calling on the Ark, communications could have made great use of you.” He winked and I laughed in response to his assumption. “I’ll get you some blankets.” He stated as he shuffled away.

Soon people started to arrive following Raven’s directions and I wrapped them up in the makeshift blankets that Finn delivered and settled them around the fire with some water. It wasn’t long before I had my hands full with a confused group to babysit and Finn and Raven took up positions nearby to help keep an eye on the more active members. I no longer had to focus on distracting anyone, as the wanderers kept us plenty busy. It had gotten properly dark by the time Octavia sauntered over to the fire and I was growing restless as I considered that Bellamy and Clarke still hadn’t returned. Octavia nodded subtly from the edge of view, acknowledging a job completed. She then casually approached as Raven and Finn watched and I had to quickly remind myself of the narrative that I’d spun.

“Hey Tavi, no stragglers left on your side of camp?” I asked, trying my best to seem casual as I hoped she would understand what I was doing and not accidentally reveal my lies.

“No movement that way, and I just dropped Jasper at his tent to join Monty for a nap. He’s finally stopped screaming about grounders so I think we’ve got a rough time scale for when it wears off now.” She laughed as she made her way over to sit beside me, and I was impressed at how naturally she caught on to the situation. I was also pleased to hear that the boys were safe and sighed in relief.

“Any sign of Clarke or Bellamy over there?” I asked with genuine concern as my mind returned to their absence. Octavia shook her head and I only grew more unsettled. “Okay, do you think you can take over here? They’re mostly all chilled by now but it sounds like effects should be wearing off soon anyway.” I asked as I got to my feet but she grabbed my arm and glimpsed up at me in concern.

“Of course, but where are you going?” She asked, checking me closely.

“I need to look for our missing leaders.” I smiled gently in the hope that she wouldn’t cause a scene but to my disappointment she glared back. I didn’t want to draw any attention to the fact that I was leaving and sat back down before anyone could notice that we were behaving strangely.

“No, absolutely not, you can’t go alone.” She spoke adamantly as she studied me and I sighed deeply. I didn’t have patience left to argue with her today and wished that for once she wouldn’t make things difficult.

“We don’t have the manpower to launch a full search party right now Tavi. I don’t even know where they went, so it’s not like I can go far. I’m just going to do a small venture in their direction and hopefully I’ll bump into them on their way back. If I don’t come back quickly enough, you’ll have more people back to normal to send a rescue group.” I smiled gently and she frowned back at me with an unconvinced face. “Come on, your brother’s out there and he could be hurt.I need to see what’s going on.” I reasoned as I gazed at her but she continued to frown at me. She sighed as she reluctantly let go of my hand.

“Fine, don’t take too long, or I’ll send the whole camp.” She threatened and I didn’t doubt her seriousness for a moment. I got to my feet and I crept out quietly so as not to draw attention. I gathered some limited supplies and snuck into the woods.

I wandered aimlessly in the direction that I had seen them leave in and within no time struggled to tell where I was in the darkness. I tried to look for any signs of them, but it was much harder to track than Finn made it look when he led the group. I couldn’t ignore the building anxiety in my gut the further I went and kicked myself for believing that I would simply bump into them out here. I stopped walking and stared out into the dense gloom that surrounded me from all angles. I considered turning back, but I was haunted with horrendous images of the things that could have happened to them out here if they’d taken the nuts with them. I hesitated, frozen to the spot as I deliberated with myself. With no better ideas, I called out into the trees.

“Bellamy! Clarke!” I shouted into the shadows and waited nervously for a few moments, but nothing changed. I couldn’t think of anything else to do and I knew that if I got lost out here there would be a frantic search party sent by Octavia. I was about to turn back towards camp when a gunshot rang out in the distance. I didn’t waste a second in reacting to it as I took off in the direction of the sound. My feet pounded in the mud at the same pace that my mind obsessed over the million awful scenarios that could surround the gunshot. I strained to keep my focus in the moment as I rushed blindly into whatever danger awaited me. Just as I started to worry that I may have lost the trail, two more gunshots carried between the trees and I followed them with a terror gripping my chest. My heart raced wildly and I panted in a mixture of exhaustion and fear.

“Get the hell off of him!” I recognised Clarke’s panicked voice immediately and forced myself into a manic sprint. As I drew closer, I could hear the sounds of a struggle and I prayed that they were safe. Moments later I fell into a clearing and I could barely comprehend what I was seeing. There was a dead body of someone I didn’t recognise sprawled out in the middle of the clearing, and leaning against opposite trees facing each other were Clarke and Bellamy. Bellamy was screaming wildly and clawing at the air around him, whilst Clarke yelled over in his direction with desperation. As she was closer and seemed to be more lucid, I dropped down to her side first.

“Hey! Clarke, you’re okay, look at me.” I spoke firmly, taking her face in my hands and forcing her to meet my eyes. Her face felt warm in my hands, but she seemed to be past the point of fever and from what I could tell, she was able to concentrate on me. “You’re alright, what you’re seeing and feeling is just the effects of the nuts we found earlier, they’re causing everyone at camp to trip bollocks. Here.” I handed her a bottle of water from my belt after removing the cap to make it easier for her. “Start on this, you need to rehydrate all that fluid you’ve sweated out with your fever and we want to try flushing this out of your system as soon as possible.” I spoke firmly but slowly, ensuring that she was absorbing the information and she nodded in acknowledgment. Bellamy was getting louder behind me and I could hear that he had started to hyperventilate. “You just sit there and keep drinking, stay calm and let me know if you start seeing anything weird. I have to deal with him.” I explained quickly, watching her reaction to check that she would be okay alone.

“I’m okay, I can help.” She whispered in a hoarse voice as she tried to lift herself from the ground and I firmly pushed her back into a seated position.

“Clarke, the best thing you can do for me right now is to sit there and get sober so I can concentrate on Bellamy. Can you do that for me, please?” I stayed in her eyeline and waited for her to nod reluctantly. As soon as she did, I turned on the spot and began to approach Bellamy. He was screaming out gibberish between jagged breaths, and he repeatedly appeared to lash out at thin air. He didn’t seem to notice my presence at all, as if he were seeing straight through me. “God, he’s having a really bad trip, almost everyone else at camp is just having pleasant hallucinations.” I commented, as I slowly tried to enter his space and moved carefully in an effort not to startle him. “Has he been like this for long?” I called back to Clarke in question as I kept my eyes fixed on him. I reached out to touch him as gently as I could, but he immediately flinched away from me. Although our contact was brief, I was able to feel the scolding heat that poured off his skin and I could see the sheen on his face that indicated he was still running an extreme fever.

“Hours, I can’t get through to him, it’s like he can’t even see me.” Clarke explained quietly between deep, steadying breaths. “He was lucid for a little while when we were fighting Dax, but straight after he went back into panic. This is the worst I’ve seen him yet.” She confirmed and I sighed regretfully as I processed this information. As I got closer, I could make out the obvious signs of a struggle, as there was hardly any part of his face that wasn’t swollen or blood smeared and I was saddened to see him in such a state again.

“What have you tried already?” I asked, watching closely as he attempted to defend himself against whatever attack he was experiencing in his mind.

“I’ve yelled at him, shook him, I even tried slapping him to shock him out of it.” Clarke breathed, sounding remorseful about this choice. I sighed thoughtfully as I studied him and his jagged movements caused him to hit himself. He didn’t even seem to notice the impact as he was so lost in the visions and inspected him sympathetically. “He’s going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t calm down, hours is a long time for the human body to deal with that level of panic.” Clarke added poignantly and I wrecked my brain for a way to reach him.

“He’s too deep in the hallucinations, he might be too overstimulated already to react to shock.” I muttered, pacing around as I considered any other possible options. I didn’t have enough knowledge of drug use to know what would usually be recommended and I wished that I’d learned more useful skills before we were sent to Earth.

As I observed his movements, he reminded me of Octavia as he began to scratch at his arms. During the beginning of our friendship in the Skybox, Octavia would have frequent panic attacks about returning to her cell. All of her years of hiding from the guards in her mother's quarters had left her with a residual fear of being contained. It took a while for us to find coping mechanisms to help her manage this fear and in the meantime, I had to learn how to calm her during an outburst. When I looked at Bellamy, despite their many differences, I noticed some similar behaviours in their panic and I began to wonder if the same method would work on him.

He was hyperventilating hysterically now and his lips were turning blue, a telltale sign of lack of oxygen that I remembered from Octavia. With little time left to hesitate, I approached him and fell into his space. I crouched over him, placing my knees either side of his thighs and pulled him into my arms. At first he fought me and only seemed to be more panicked by the sudden contact. It was substantially harder to contain him than it ever was with Octavia and I didn’t allow myself any time to doubt, as I knew I had no other ideas. I pulled him in tighter as I remembered that Octavia would continue to lash out with her arms until I stopped her and so I pulled his arms down to his sides and embraced him around them. I held him tightly in place, allowing him to feel the pressure around him and tried to speak gently in his ear.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. What you’re seeing isn’t real, it’s not real Bellamy, you’re safe, shh.” I whispered gently as I felt his arms finally calming and after a few moments I dared to risk releasing them. They flopped loosely to his side and he didn’t attempt to hit anything again, much to my relief. Instead, he continued to tremble in my embrace and I slowly moved a hand to his neck to feel his pulse. It was hammering so fast that it was hard to even count and the heat that poured off him made me sweat. He was no longer shouting, but he continued to hyperventilate and I knew that we were still in a risky situation.

“You’re safe Bellamy, it’s okay, the threat isn’t real.” I spoke in a slow, calming manner as I held him to me, hoping to draw his attention to me over whatever horrors were happening in his mind. “If you can hear my voice, I need you to concentrate on it. Don’t listen to anyone else, listen to me.” I asserted and I felt his breathing hitch. I took this break in gasps as a sign that he was listening to me. “That’s it, you’re safe. Everything is okay, you’re just hallucinating. You ate some bad food and it’s messing with your head. I promise, what you’re seeing isn’t real.” I explained gently as I waited for him to calm. I moved my hand slowly to feel his pulse again and I noticed that it was finally starting to slow down. I let out a small sigh of relief and gripped him to me again. I cradled his head with one hand, tenderly stroking his hair in a soothing manner as I continued to talk to him.

“That’s it, you’re doing well. Try to slow your breathing down for me. You’re safe. Raven and Finn are taking care of everyone back at camp and Octavia didn’t eat it, so she’s safe with them. Everything’s okay.” I spoke slowly as I tried to clear any concerns that may be bothering him and felt that his breathing was finally starting to become more regular. He didn’t seem to be any more lucid yet unfortunately, so I decided to try implementing some of the methods that I’d learned to refocus Octavia when she was lost to panic. “Listen to my voice, I want you to really focus on it. Good. Now, focus on the other things you can feel in your body. The cool, wet ground beneath you, the cool crisp air on your skin. Listen to my breathing, the wind in the trees. Can you feel my arms around you, my hand in your hair, my breathing near your ear? I need you to focus on those things around you Bellamy, what you really see, hear, smell, taste, feel. Pick them out in your mind. You’re safe, come back to us.” I have clear instruction and prayed that it would be enough to bring him out of his mind. As I finished guiding him through the technique, he finally spoke in a small, exhausted voice.

“I-Indigo?” He asked with such deep uncertainty that my heart broke for him. I finally released him from my grip, leaning back into his lap to view his tear streaked face.

“Hey you.” I smiled warmly and he stared back at me in wide eyed confusion. “Here, drink some water, you’re dehydrated and I need you to start flushing this crap out of your system.” I handed the open bottle to him and he took it from me with shaking hands, sipping from it delicately. “You just sit still and drink that okay? I’m just gonna go check on Clarke, I’ll be right there and then I’ll come straight back to you.” I explained quickly.

I moved before my heart strings could stop me and rushed back to Clarke’s side. She looked much calmer now and I checked to find that she had drunk almost the whole bottle of water that I’d left her with. I held my hand to her forehead and felt that she was almost back to a normal temperature. As a last precaution, I took the flashlight from my belt and gently flashed it at one eye at a time, confirming that she was back to normal dilation.

“Okay, you’re good. You can start gathering stuff to go back to camp. I’m gonna check on Bellamy and once he’s ready, we’ll move.” I ordered. Clarke nodded and started to get to her feet. I turned back to Bellamy, who was staring wide eyed at the body and was slowly losing control of his breathing again. I rushed back over and sat beside him on the opposite side from the body. I gently took his face in my hands and guided him to look at me. “Hey, no, don’t look at that, look at me. I need you to stay calm, it’s gonna take a little while for this stuff to fully work itself out of your body, so you can’t get too panicky or you’ll start tripping again. Stay focused on me and take some deep breaths. Alright, good. See, surely I can’t be that scary?” I smiled gently and felt a twinge of worry when he didn’t even flinch toward a smile back. It was unusual for him not to respond to humour, even in the most stressful situations. “You’re okay.” I breathed as I regarded him with sympathy.

“No, I’m not.” He whispered with fresh tears rolling down his cheeks as he panted for breath. “My mother...if she knew what I’ve done, who I am-” He choked up momentarily with emotion, the pain of the time here crashing down on him all at once. “She raised me to be good. And all I do is hurt people.” He paused to sniff as his desperate eyes met mine. “I’m a monster.” He spat with a devastating conviction.

“No Bellamy, that’s not true!” I gasped as I wiped his tears away and gazed at his broken expression with an aching heart. “Your mother raised you the best she could, as all parents on the Ark struggle to do in that stifling environment. But she also crushed you under the weight of the responsibility that you were far too young to bear. You have done everything in your power to keep Octavia safe and I know that she would be proud of you for that. None of us ever expected to be here in this situation, and I’m sure if she could see you now, she wouldn’t see a monster. She’d see a survivor, she’d see the man who made the difficult choices to keep us alive. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you. We need you Bellamy.” I spoke earnestly and even surprised myself at my own honesty. Bellamy scoffed and looked away from me. My stomach churned as I processed the self loathing of his words and I was compelled to guide him into a more beneficial thought process. “I know my words don’t take away the guilt and the pain you’re feeling. I can’t even begin to imagine what you feel, with everything that is on your shoulders. But it’s time to stop waiting for forgiveness for your mistakes and start facing them.” He looked back at me with fear in his eyes and I sighed. “And you know what, you may not want to hear this, but it’s time for you to forgive yourself. You are only one person thrown into a situation that is impossible to have prepared for. You made mistakes, yes. Shockingly you’re not perfect. But it’s time to stop beating yourself up over them and start acknowledging them. Take responsibility and face up to the consequences. You can’t run forever Bellamy.” I finished gently as I gazed into his eyes and he sighed, watching me with a terrified expression.

“How do I do that?” He asked in a small shaky voice and I smiled at him with gentle encouragement.

“One step at a time, but you’re not going to be doing it alone. I’ve got your back.” I asserted as I reached out to squeeze his hand.

“Jaha will kill me when he comes down.” He breathed and my stomach lurched at the mention of the Chancellor. I hadn’t even considered yet that he would be one of the people to come down and I felt a fire burning inside of me at the thought.

“I won’t let that happen.” I growled with more fury than intended and he finally showed a hint of a smile at my veracity. “How much does Clarke know?” I whispered as I leaned into him inquisitively.

“Everything.” He sighed and I raised my brows in surprise. I guessed it was hard to keep secrets when you have crazy hallucinogens in your system and tried to be understanding about him involving her in his crisis.

“Okay, in that case, we’ll work it out on the way back to camp. Come on, up you get.” I helped him to his feet with difficulty as Clarke carefully approached us. “Let’s get back to camp, people are going to be getting worried.” I suggested as I supported Bellamy to find his balance weakly.

“We have to go back to the building we found first, there’s supplies to collect. We can’t afford to risk anyone else finding them first.” Clarke stated firmly and I stared at her in surprise. I couldn’t imagine how we were going to transport them with them in such a weakened state but I reluctantly agreed so that I could get them moving.

We walked slowly as we wandered in a tight formation back to their discovery. I reluctantly assisted in packing up the supplies they’d found, which mostly consisted of copious amounts of guns and we spread the weight between us as we started on our return to camp. Bellamy was unusually quiet during the walk and I noticed that he kept glancing back over his shoulder fearfully. I wanted to believe it was due to the paranoia of his earlier visions, but I’d been considering his strange behaviour this morning alongside some information I’d gathered since seeing him again and I had a suspicion that I knew what was really going on with him. Now that he was calmer, I couldn’t hold in my thoughts any longer and turned to look at him with impatience.

“You weren’t planning on coming back to camp, were you?” I asked quietly to keep Clarke from hearing our conversation. His eyes shot to me in surprise and as he realised that I was awaiting an answer, he looked away in avoidance. I scoffed in response to his unintentional confirmation of my theory. “I knew something was wrong when you left. Were you even going to say goodbye?” As the question left my lips, I heard the hurt in my tone and inwardly kicked myself for allowing that to show. Bellamy stared at the ground with a guilty expression, his head hung low in a silent answer. “Did you really think you could just hide out in the woods? You must’ve known that I’d look for you?” I quizzed him before quickly stumbling over my words as I realised exactly what I’d said. “Among others of course.” I added hurriedly.

“I didn’t think about it in any detail, Indigo. All I knew was that Jaha was making plans to come down here and if I stayed in camp I was a sitting duck.” He mumbled in a poor attempt at an explanation and I sighed deeply at him. I could tell that this fear of inescapable punishment was still messing with him as we marched back in the direction of camp.

“Hey Clarke?” I called out to her as she walked with purpose just ahead of us and she slowed to meet my side. “You know all about this mess now, have you got any bright ideas for keeping Bellamy alive and in camp?” I asked as I shot an accusing glare at him for trying to abandon us, implying that I could tell that he was still considering running at this very moment. “Jaha isn’t known for his mercy and if he tries to punish Bellamy the way he would on the Ark...well, there’s gonna be more than one life lost, that’s for sure.” I spoke honestly as I imagined the guards trying to take him for execution and I couldn’t even account for the damage I’d be willing to do to stop it. She stared up at the sky thoughtfully for a while as we trudged through the forest.

“I’ve known the Chancellor most of my life. I don’t approve of most of what he does, but he’s actually a much more reasonable man than most of the Ark realises.” She spoke in a distracted voice as she explained and I scoffed at her words.

“Yeah, cuz the death penalty for any and all crime is totally reasonable.” I spat and she squinted at me in a defensive manner. “I’m sorry, I know you’re not the enemy. What was your point?” I spoke sheepishly following my unintentional attack.

“Jaha is always willing to discuss terms, trades and compromises. I know him well enough to know how to convince him. I could help you talk to him.” She flashed Bellamy a hopeful smile but he only responded with confusion.

“What could we possibly trade him for? I can’t imagine we have anything he would want in this paradise.” He asked with a bitter tone as his exhausted face revealed his doubt.

“Information; you offer to tell him who asked you to shoot him, but only in exchange for a pardon.” Clarke sounded genuinely enthused with her idea and I felt a small shred of hope blossoming in my chest. Bellamy stared at her in surprise, and I joined him, before breaking into a wicked smile.

“You know what, that could actually work. You’re secretly sly Clarke! I’ll have to watch you in future.” I chuckled as I was hit with a feeling of genuine relief. I turned back to face Bellamy. “What do you think Bellamy? Are you ready to deal with this?” I asked as I watched him closely, hoping with everything in me that he wouldn't turn and run. He finally broke into a smile and my heart fluttered at the sight.

“Let’s do it. Nothing else left to try.” He answered and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

The remaining walk to camp felt easier and I was more relaxed than I had been in days. I knew that this was still a gamble, but I trusted Clarke’s judgement and her history with Jaha to pull this off. As we approached the edge of the fencing I split off from them, allowing them to make their grand, victorious entrance without my interference. Instead, I went to find Jasper who was finally back to his normal self and happily sleeping. Monty was also sitting in the tent and when I entered he shifted awkwardly.

“Hey, if it isn’t my two favourite troublemakers.” I chanted with a smile as I sat beside him. “Are you guys feeling okay?” I asked with a hint of concern as I looked between them.

“I’m fine. Jasper was feeling pretty exhausted, but it sounds like he spent a lot of his day panicking, so I don’t really blame him.” He explained as he watched Jasper with care. He cleared his throat and avoided looking back at me as he spoke again. “I’m really sorry if I came across as weird earlier, I tend to say some pretty wild stuff when I’m...you know.” He spoke in a small voice and fidgeted his hands awkwardly. I struggled to stifle a giggle as I remembered the numerous compliments he’d given me during the day and instead I focused on trying to ease his entirely unnecessary embarrassment.

“You think you were wild? Did Jasper remember telling Octavia he loved her yet?” I asked playfully and Monty snorted in laughter. “Twice!” I crumbled into giggles at the memory and was glad to be able to share some humour after such a difficult day. “Seriously, we’re good, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re both okay. I’m gonna find Octavia and I’ll leave you to comfort your friend here. I get the feeling his ego’s going to be a little bruised when he wakes up.” I winked, before heading back to the main activity of camp.

I glanced around to seek out Octavia and I had already begun to approach her when I noticed Bellamy hovering awkwardly nearby, observing her with a beaten puppy expression. He hadn’t noticed my presence, so I quickly stepped to the side to remain out of his line of sight. I watched as he gingerly wrapped a blanket around her and she glanced back at him in annoyance. I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened between them in the last few days, but I had the impression that some hurtful words had been exchanged. I hoped that they could find a way to trust each other, but I knew that it would take time for this to build. I was too far from them to hear what was said, but I could tell from Bellamy’s body language that he was trying his best with her and I smiled at the sight.

“Bellamy!” Clarke called as she emerged from the tent where the communications with the Ark were stored. Unfortunately this was right beside the spot I was hiding in plain sight. Inwardly, I cursed her for interrupting their bonding moment until she spoke again. “It’s time.” She said with a significant tone and I glimpsed over in shock. I didn’t expect them to launch into their plan so quickly, I hadn’t had a chance to even discuss it with Bellamy yet. I made the quick decision to not involve myself in the situation. If he felt ready to do this now, then I was glad that they were immediately getting it out of the way before he could change his mind. He didn't notice me as he turned from Octavia and took a few steps toward the tent and I considered backing away. He suddenly stopped mid way and turned back to face her.

“The grounder escaping, was that you?” He spoke with an accusing manner and my blood felt like it turned to pure ice at his question. Octavia didn’t even turn around, keeping her back to him and I found myself thanking every star that he wasn’t facing me as I tried to force myself to behave normally. I knew that he wouldn’t approve of my part in it and after how close we’d grown tonight, I was terrified of disrupting this hard earned peace. I genuinely couldn’t tell any longer if he’d be angry or if he would allow me the time to explain. I felt myself spiralling into panic as I awaited her response.

“I had nothing to do with it.” She replied coolly and my heart skipped a beat. I didn’t know how to feel about her involving me in her lie and I despised that I’d found myself caught between her and Bellamy. I forced the feeling to the back of my mind to deal with later as Bellamy sighed and continued toward the tent. I startled as he finally noticed me and I considered simply walking away, but his vulnerable eyes drew me toward him. I walked to him as if in a trance and simply put a hand on his forearm. I steeled myself as I stared up into his eyes with a confident smile.

“You're going to be fine.” I spoke with an assertive sense of belief and he smiled nervously in return. “I’ll see you on the other side as a free man.” I breathed, releasing him to enter the tent. I tried desperately to force myself to leave, to trust them to manage the situation and fill me in after. I couldn’t help the slideshow in my mind of all the times things had gone wrong and Bellamy had run off, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave the edge of the tent. I waited right outside, straining to hear what was said.

“Mr Blake, I’ve wanted to talk to you for some time now.” The chancellor's voice was clear and assertive and it sent chills down my spine.

“Before you do, I’d like to say something. When you sent us down here you sent us to die, but miraculously, most of us are still alive. In large part, that is because of him, because of Bellamy.” Clarke’s voice was calm, but her words made it clear that trusting her was the correct choice here. She knew exactly how to present her case. “He’s one of us, and he deserves to be pardoned of his crimes just like the rest of us.” She asserted and I couldn’t help but to be impressed by her.

I felt like I could barely breathe as I waited for the Chancellor’s response. Although I knew that this was the best chance for Bellamy, I was also terrified that this was the moment I would find out that there was no hope for him here; I wrestled my anxiety at even the thought of it.

“Clarke, I appreciate your point of view, but it’s not that simple.” The chancellor replied and I felt like I might heave at any moment. I reminded myself that they hadn’t thrown in their trade yet, it wasn’t over.

“It is if you want to know who on the Ark wants you dead.” Bellamy spoke assertively and I felt my heart swell with pride. I waited for what felt like an eternity for a response and couldn’t even move a single muscle in my body.

“Bellamy Blake, you’re pardoned for your crimes.” The Chancellor’s answer was firm and decisive, and I felt myself gasp out for air. I dropped to a crouch, just catching myself before I hit the ground and held my head in my hands. I felt tears freely roam down my cheeks and the relief poured over me in an overwhelming wave. I forced myself to a standing position so that I could rush to the tent to compose myself.

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niflim · 4 years

Text

headcanon: mental health, psyche, etc.

beneath the cut is both an explanation of dysthymia ( persistent depressive disorder ) in addition to major depressive episode, post - traumatic stress disorder and acquired brain injury via mako poisoning in the context of cloud’s life.

i hope to present this information in a completely analytical way, free of any perceived bias. so it is also my hope that you inform me if i have in any way misstepped. it’s not my intent to offend, merely to provide my view on what cloud experiences, which i understand can sometimes be a dangerous thing in today’s world. this is a long post, but i do hope that you at least give it a skim ! i apologize for the blockquotes, if i could’ve linked individual sections, i definitely would’ve.

dysthymia & major depressive disorder. cloud develops dysthymia during his childhood. i wouldn’t call it simply major depressive disorder because his behavior doesn’t occur for mere weeks at a time. it’s on a larger scale and persists for at least two years ( one year in children and adolescents ). most people would assume that any depressive disorder would cause someone to become, well, depressed. but the interesting thing about adolescents is that they are actually more prone to irritability than so - called ' depression ’.

criterion as per the dsm - v ( taken verbatim ) is presented below:

‘ a. depressed mood for most of the day, for more days than not, as indicated by either subjective account or observation by others, for at least 2 years.

note: in children and adolescents, mood can be irritable and duration must be at least 1 year.

b. presence, while depressed, of two (or more) of the following:

poor appetite or overeating.

insomnia or hypersomnia.

low energy or fatigue.

low self-esteem.

poor concentration or difficulty making decisions.

feelings of hopelessness.

c. during the 2-year period (1 year for children or adolescents) of the disturbance, the individual has never been without the symptoms in criteria a and b for more than 2 months at a time.

d. criteria for a major depressive disorder may be continuously present for 2 years.

e. there has never been a manic episode or a hypomanic episode, and criteria have never been met for cyclothymic disorder.

f. the disturbance is not better explained by a persistent schizoaffective disorder, schizophrenia, delusional disorder, or other specified or unspecified schizophrenia spectrum and other psychotic disorder.

g. the symptoms are not attributable to the physiological effects of a substance (e.g., a drug of abuse, a medication) or another medical condition (e.g. hypothyroidism).

h. the symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning. ’

symptoms that apply: insomnia, low self - esteem, poor concentration / difficulty making decisions, feelings of hopelessness.

i’m going to be tackling this going down the list.

a. in cloud’s childhood, cloud comes off as fairly irritable, especially towards tifa’s friends. his lack of self - esteem showed itself in a heightened opinion of himself, as arrogance tends to. he decided he was better than the other kids, therefore he shouldn’t be bothered that he can’t hang out with them. this is relatively weak, admittedly, to what i will be discussing next. it’s only one symptom as opposed to the two required.

b & c. the event that took place when he was nine and tifa was eight, after the death of her mother and the trip to mt. nibel, really hammers the point home. because of his perceived incitement of the expedition rather than his attempt to help tifa, he was met with the ire of the adults and dissuaded from talking to tifa. this introduces way more irritability in the form of cloud’s anger problem and inappropriate feelings of guilt that are associated with an episode of major depressive disorder.

according to an article published by the h.arvard medical school:

‘ symptoms can grow into a full-blown episode of major depression. people with persistent depressive disorder have a greater-than-average chance of developing major depression. while major depression often occurs in episodes, persistent depressive disorder is defined as more constant, lasting for years ’.

at least, cloud experiences a major depressive episode ; at most, he develops the full - blown disorder. given that he’s been experiencing persistent depressive disorder with at least two points in his life where he has had a major depressive episode ( mt. nibel, failing to make it into soldier, during advent children ), i’d wager that the latter situation is the reality.

d. since major depression disorder is chronic and tends to come in episodes during particularly taxing times, it can still be present when one is diagnosed with dysthymia. major depressive disorder comes with four additional symptoms: excessive guilt / feelings of worthlessness, s.uicide ideation, loss of interest, psychomotor agitation / r.etardation. cloud does indeed experience excessive guilt, as discussed above, and i would wager that he does go through a period where he has feelings of worthlessness and he definitely loses interest in making friends.

e, f, g. i wouldn’t classify cloud’s ‘ substance - related illness ’ / mako poisoning as grounds for a manic episode. nor does it cause substance - related depression ; this is merely the situation framing his contact with mako.

h. this condition causes a lot of issues in cloud’s social life as shown by his relationship to the other kids ( though it was in part due to their exclusivity ) and his easy - to - anger personality.

i believe that it is also worth noting that the aforementioned article also reveals that ‘ some people with persistent depressive disorder have experienced a major loss in childhood, such as the death of a parent ’. cloud went through the loss of a father at an early age, i headcanon around age 5 / 6, and growing up without a fatherly figure can be rough for a child. i know without a doubt that claudia could only do so much to make sure her son grew up fine. that is not to bring her down or any single mothers down, there is no doubt she loved her son dearly, but it still isn’t something that can be ignored. i’m sure cloud owes his open mind, kindness, and protective nature to her, and that is also something that made him vulnerable to the other kids’ teasing, leading cloud to become depressed and try to be tough and hide his emotions.

post - traumatic stress disorder. it goes without saying that cloud has experienced multiple traumatic experiences in his life. there’s the events at mt. nibel & tifa’s coma, the nibelheim incident, and zack’s death. so instead of proving the trauma that is undoubtedly there, i will instead be speaking of the symptoms that he experiences due to the disorder.

criterion as per the dsm - v ( taken verbatim ) is presented below:

a. exposure to actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violence in one (or more) of the following ways:

directly experiencing the traumatic event(s).

witnessing, in person, the event(s) as it occurred to others.

learning that the traumatic event(s) occurred to a close family member or close friend. in cases of actual or threatened death of a family member or friend, the event(s) must have been violent or accidental.

experiencing repeated or extreme exposure to aversive details of the traumatic event(s) (e.g., first responders collecting human remains: police officers repeatedly exposed to details of child abuse).

note: criterion a4 does not apply to exposure through electronic media, television, movies, or pictures, unless this exposure is work related.

b. presence of one (or more) of the following intrusion symptoms associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred:

recurrent, involuntary, and intrusive distressing memories of the traumatic event(s). note: in children older than 6 years, repetitive play may occur in which themes or aspects of the traumatic event(s) are expressed.

recurrent distressing dreams in which the content and/or affect of the dream are related to the traumatic event(s). note: in children, there may be frightening dreams without recognizable content.

dissociative reactions (e.g., flashbacks) in which the individual feels or acts as if the traumatic event(s) were recurring. (such reactions may occur on a continuum, with the most extreme expression being a complete loss of awareness of present surroundings.) note: in children, trauma-specific reenactment may occur in play.

intense or prolonged psychological distress at exposure to internal or external cues that symbolize or resemble an aspect of the traumatic event(s).

marked physiological reactions to internal or external cues that symbolize or resemble an aspect of the traumatic event(s).

c. persistent avoidance of stimuli associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by one or both of the following:

avoidance of or efforts to avoid distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s).

avoidance of or efforts to avoid external reminders (people, places, conversations, activities, objects, situations) that arouse distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s).

d. negative alterations in cognitions and mood associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

inability to remember an important aspect of the traumatic event(s) (typically due to dissociative amnesia and not to other factors such as head injury, alcohol, or drugs).

persistent and exaggerated negative beliefs or expectations about oneself, others, or the world (e.g., “i am bad,” “no one can be trusted,” ‘the world is completely dangerous,” “my whole nervous system is permanently ruined”).

persistent, distorted cognitions about the cause or consequences of the traumatic event(s) that lead the individual to blame himself/herself or others.

persistent negative emotional state (e.g., fear, horror, anger, guilt, or shame).

markedly diminished interest or participation in significant activities.

feelings of detachment or estrangement from others.

persistent inability to experience positive emotions (e.g., inability to experience happiness, satisfaction, or loving feelings).

e. marked alterations in arousal and reactivity associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

irritable behavior and angry outbursts (with little or no provocation) typically expressed as verbal or physical aggression toward people or objects.

reckless or self-destructive behavior.

hypervigilance.

exaggerated startle response.

problems with concentration.

sleep disturbance (e.g., difficulty falling or staying asleep or restless sleep).

f. duration of the disturbance (criteria b, c, d, and e) is more than 1 month.

g. the disturbance causes clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.

h. the disturbance is not attributable to the physiological effects of a substance (e.g., medication, alcohol) or another medical condition.

a. we’ve already established that cloud fits this criterion because he has the disorder.

b. cloud experiences intrusive or recurrent memories of the traumatic event (1) in addition to dreams that put him as a player in the burning of nibelheim. he usually takes zack’s role until his memory is restored (2). given that cloud has multiple instances in which sephiroth visits him in a vision while he is awake, there also some instances when they’re just that ... visions / flashbacks of his trauma outside of the influence that sephiroth holds on him (3). cloud experiences distress and pain whenever he’s visited by a vision of sephiroth or the mention of zack’s name (4, 5).

c. though his behavior is certainly the closed off sort, he doesn’t avoid tifa. in fact, he is drawn to her as a survivor of the event and a supposed dear friend. he does, however, present himself as emotionally closed off, for the most part, save for some softer moments where he acts protective of his newfound friends (1, 2).

d. cloud definitely misremembers the events surrounding the nibelheim incident and zack’s death, instead becoming confused by the memories zack told him about and believing himself to be zack (1). cloud is instilled with the belief that despite now being a merc, he has to be the perfect soldier which would require him to be strong, resourceful, and careful with his emotions. he takes a no - nonsense approach to life. this tends to fail (2). cloud feels somewhat responsible for tifa’s father’s death even in his false memories and, also, later feels responsible for zack’s death once he knows the truth. he feels that it is in some way his fault (3). cloud maintains a somewhat pissy attitude for the first half of the game, but, ultimately, this doesn’t entirely apply to him (4). cloud feels a diminished interest in being friends with tifa’s friends, especially after the incident that caused his initial trauma and feels even more separated and detached from them. this is also how he handles his initial interactions with the members of avalanche, though they eventually get through to him (5, 6). he’s emotionally closed off, as mentioned above, and is more prone to anger. but people who show him understanding and the praise / acceptance / acknowledgement he secretly wishes for, he cracks a smile.

e. he is easy to anger and gets into fights with the other kids after mt. nibel (1). cloud, somewhat recklessly, goes off to become a soldier. though not conditionally reckless, i do think it’s odd that simply trying to impress someone could push him to do something like that. maybe some part of him wanted to be more than he was, not just to earn tifa’s attention (2). cloud is very alert and aware of his surroundings. it’s in part battle instinct, in part training, in part trauma - induced (3). this one is hit or miss, it really depends (4). no problems with concentration, unless in the throes of a vision (5). we experience how restless cloud is in how easily he wakes up. when tifa knocks, when there’s the clone next door, when he’s at aerith’s house. he’s a light sleeper (6).

f. yes, it’s been more than a month.

g. this does cause social issues.

h. given that this condition was present before cloud’s mako poisoning, it is not the result of a substance. however, mako poisoning did make things worse.

acquired brain injury - mako poisoning. one of the causes of an abi happens to be poisoning compared to trauma caused by an impact or injury in the event of a traumatic brain injury. injuries of this sort can create permanent or temporary damage to one’s psyche --- cognitive, physical, emotional, or behavioral. this happens to cloud twice. given that he doesn’t necessarily recover from his mako poisoning entirely before falling in the lifestream again, his already active condition actually worsens. without zack’s stories to supplement his memories the second time, he completely loses himself and remains vegetative until tifa aids him in piecing together their shared past. it’s not all her, as cloud does have a hand in it, showing that he hasn’t completely lost himself, his mind is merely scrambled in a sort of dissociative amnesia that requires outside help to set right. this contributes to his depression and anger issues ( though, admittedly, they’ve diminished for the most part in his soldier state ). this also contributes to his memory loss. if anyone is curious, i can attempt to write more on this later !

sources: dsm - v, abi wiki ( the sources here checked out ), h.arvard health publishing.

#* out.#* hc.#depression //#dysthymia //#brain injury //#post traumatic stress disorder //#ptsd //#abi //#acquired brain injury //#[ i'll find like five errors later lmao ]

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countessofbiscuit · 4 years

Note

I need more Cody/Bo-Katan content! :3

man, don’t we all ♥ i posted a BoCody fic on ao3 about a week ago, then deleted it (and others) in a strange manic episode. as i don’t have anything new to share, i’ll at least let it see daylight again. thank you for making me smile : )

Forward

(ao3)

“This will be a waste of time,” she’d told Tano, as Melsha set the nav for the deep Core. Ursa had picked up comm chatter about Maul’s probable return to Sundari, and it’s a long way to any Third Army theatre on a Kom’rk hyperdrive.

Fives days and too much fuel later, Bo-Katan is proven right, Manda rest her sister.

It’s humiliating, to come all this way just to breathe the same recycled air, to let them see her anxious despair in the flesh, and to still be told, please hold.

And he had seen her: Kenobi’s golden meat-droid, her unintended liaison of a marshal commander, whose intelligence minders had let her keep. Probably for a fucking laugh; he makes SpecOps sound like its own clan of Keldabe-kissed vode.

He watched her stalk off her ship, ready to prostrate herself before the Republic. To beg face-to-face. The hangar throbbed with activity, a sea of white and gold and blue, and his face was everywhere. But she recognized him—that scarred temple peering down from a platform, leg propped up on a rail, garter stripe over his right thigh, extremely at ease with himself.

She’s doubly mad when she exits the comms room, too angry to remember which turbolift bay to use.

The Commander is standing there, caf in hand, next to the security booth where they’d been required to hand in their grenades. Obviously lurking with intent, but she is less than flattered.

“Well, if it isn’t the Mandalorian Resistance,” he says.

He appraises her casually as she gets her shit back and asks the security clone for directions. The reply is so convoluted—and she’s so stupidly undone by the shock of being within three feet of this unmasked Fett—she has to click on her recorder.

“I’ll meet you at the ship,” she tells Gedyc and Melsha, waving them off. She surprises herself by wanting a word with this aggravatingly handsome and somewhat important man; might as well learn how enormously she’s misjudged the impression she’d made on him, too, while she’s down for the count.

The Commander sips his caf. “I see you finally got through.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Hey, I put a good word in for you. More than one. I was getting quite a reputation.”

“As what, a fool?”

“Worse—a sympathizer. They’ve been calling me names. It’s been hell.” He turns to his comrade in the booth. “What is it they call me, Reno?”

The clone doesn’t even look up from his monitor, twisting a dial on his helmet like he’s comfortable processing two streams of audio and fuck knows how much visual data at once. “Cod’ika, sir. Kote, if they’re being nice.”

“See?” the Commander smirks. He turns and indicates for her to follow. “But you found a better ambassador.”

“Yeah, much better,” she says to his broad back, studying the armor she rarely sees him in. “Kenobi had all the time in the galaxy for me in there.”

He leads the way down a corridor or three, and Bo-Katan mentally maps the return route with every turn. Command quarters, she thinks, to judge from the prevailing quiet and generous spacing of the doors. One slides open when he flashes his forearm at a panel, inviting her into a small, windowless office. There’s a comfy-looking chair and a simple desk with a built-in holoprojector. A room where two’s a crowd and three’s an unexpected grope.

She leans against the desk, placing her helmet down next to her, and looks around. Familiarity is rendered vivid. “So this is where you take my calls. Cozy.”

He flips a task lamp on and drops into his chair. “Until you finally stopped calling. Just when we were becoming friends.”

She’s not ready to match his flirtatious good mood. He must have just won a battle, all easy hubris in the flush of victory. It’s been a very long time since she’s known it herself.

“Waste of breath,” she sighs, recalling the frustration of finally being called back, only to be pressed by Kenobi to corroborate some nunabrained theory that Maul’s puppet regime was aligned with Dooku. She could not—would not, so absurd was the idea, and she rued it still. She hadn’t given them the tidy answer they wanted, so they’d given Mandalore the square root of fuck-all.

“And then I had Tano in my backwash,” she continues. “She’s nervy about you lot. Told me to stop trying until we had an offer the Council couldn’t refuse.”

“Where d'you find her?”

“Oba Diah.”

He makes a face. “Was she taking down a spice den? Or hitting one up?”

“She’d fallen in with some two-bit smugglers. It’s what all the cool coreworld dropouts do.”

“And you … recruited her how?”

“Flashed a holo of Maul. He’s my meal ticket to you people—or was. She needed a mission.” Bo-Katan still can’t believe her good luck: how easily Tano had agreed to join this cause stitched up in a threadbare kama, itching for a fight, so quick to give over old but vital intelligence. Not that had come to anything, except to satisfy a small part of Bo-Katan's conscience: she'd done a charitable act by taking in a stray, and Tano was set for years with some secondhand beskar.

“You should’ve told me when you had her,” he says. He drains his weapons-grade caf and sets his cup next to her thigh. “General Skywalker was a wreck when she left. You might’ve had a battalion within a day.”

“I wanted to. She nearly popped the airlock when I said I had you on speed-dial. I think she was embarrassed.”

He nods, chewing his lip, like he’s adding a footnote to memory. “Her departure was … not good.”

“And then when it came out that she and that jaig-bird friend of yours were an item, I begged her to call him.”

“Ahh.” His dark brow creases with more age than he even he’s earned, front-line capable aged five. “She would never compromise him.”

“So I was told.” Bo-Katan looks down at the dregs in his cup and wonders how much stomach he has today for the bitter truths she likes to serve.

“She knows we can’t authorize anything,” he sighs, landing remarkably close to her thoughts.

“No one can, apparently. Except some mystics in their topside tower. How do you live with it?”

His broad, plated shoulders shrug. “Chafing against it won’t end this war sooner. This helps.” He reaches behind his chair for a bottle among datapads, and now she can make out the label of his favorite tipple: Savareen brandy. Pulling out the stopper, he holds out it for her.

“Why not, I’m at the Council’s mercy. Again,” she groans, accepting it with a full, choking swig. The liquor scalds. Manda, it’s been a while since she’s let herself get a little tight. Not since that blond head had rolled and the responsibility of resistance had fallen to her shoulders: a youngest sister, born with stiff knees that refused to bend. Except maybe when the campfire tihaar came out.

Bo-Katan is talking before she knows what she’s doing, emboldened by the drink long before it can excuse what she says. “I wanted the Seps to invade. Can you believe that? My own system. Then the clans would sit up, I told myself, then the Republic would listen. I almost lied when Kenobi commed. I almost said, of course Maul and Dooku are aligned. You better send a battalion, a brigade if you can spare it.”

“Are the people still so resigned?”

“They don’t see him! They see Almec and they don’t see battle droids or clones—” she gestures sarcastically at him, stars knows she’d love to see a million of him on Mandalore—“so they are content. They can dust off babuir’s beskar and talk about visiting ba’vodu in Olankur after all these years, and the fact that a Sith and his criminal ilk are dug in like a galltick into their homeworld—not mine, by the way—means nothing.”

“Should it? Do the shuttles not run on time?” He spreads his arms expansively, offering her the empty everything of this truth.

“Nothing’s late if you’re spiced. Everything arrives precisely when it’s supposed to.” If she’d been outside, she might have spat, purging her disgust and the fatty tails from the brandy from her mouth. “He is no Mando’ad.”

He snorts and reaches for the bottle, and she stares as he drinks his long, practiced fill. It’s almost the same angle, looking down at him from the desk where she normally appears. Except now he’s close enough to touch, in all his colorful corporeality.

“What?” he says after a while, interrupting her study of his noble, sculpted brow.

“Sorry, it’s just …” She bends forward, elbows on knees, to peer at him and this monumental face he’d inherited. This face that had permanently scarred her resolve to never look back. “Fett.”

He flinches from any touch she might venture. “An accident with my jaig-bird friend tried to render it distinctive.”

“It worked.”

“What will you do now,” he asks abruptly, with the flattest affect, trying to squeeze out from under her scrutiny.

Bo-Katan huffs. “Pray there’s a quorum and that transceiver traffic is light. We can’t linger.”

“Tano may be persuasive than you think. I think you’ll get your battalion, after all.”

She swipes the bottle from where he’s balanced it on his thigh. “I need a brigade, at least.”

“Sith are slippery. He’ll just cut through my men like butter whatever the numbers. I saw him do it on the outpost. And he’ll do it again.”

It’s the work of a moment to decide to spill the whole of her strategy to him, to entomb her pitch and the Mandalorian fucking Resistance in this gloom. He’s never had any time for her cause, yet he’s often made time for her. She repays this candor. And if he’s been feeding up to Republic Intelligence, and not just humoring her, at least something interesting might happen with the shit that comes down.

“I’ll be blunt with you. The Jedi are a front—Tano is a front. Sure, I’d like one of them to slice the head off the snake, but I need forces to take on his fanatical army. To crush Almec and his corrupting influence. And to get Shysa and the other clans to fucking pay attention. I need an invasion.”

He nods distantly, like he’s being validated in some gut belief. “An army to bend over for you.”

“Just the once.”

“They always say that.” He claps his gloved hands in his lap, settling back in his chair like an elder keen to learn you some blood-bought philosophy. “Then they ask you to not to straighten up, lest you lift the boot.”

“Not me. I hate the smell of a standing army.”

“So you’d just march us somewhere else. Like Concordia. Or Zanbar. Or—what’s that planet that stole your sister and killed your father?” He exaggerates tip-of-tongue befuddlement. “Irmoo?”

Bo-Katan refuses to take that bait. She stabs a finger in the thin groove of his armored chest, where his karta should be. “Look me in the eye and tell me it’d be worse. You could make a difference. Answer to no one.”

“Just you.”

“I don’t own you.”

He never likes it when she points that out; it’s evident in the way he crosses his arms and clenches his jaw, clearly forcing himself not to break eye contact. But she is most comfortable when others are not, when she’s unbalanced someone with a punch or a retort. Her sister’s answer to conflict had been to seek solutions to make it stop; Bo-Katan’s answer is to hit back harder. And she’ll keep bashing this truth over his stubborn skull until his spirit cracks or he disappoints her by placidly accepting it.

“Funny thing about command,” he says, when the silence outgrows the room. “It’s not about who you answer to, but you who have to answer for. My duty to the Republic may be flimsy and manufactured and—”

“Not worth a mott’s shebs.”

“Yes, that, thank you—but my duty to my men is paramount. Baked in deep. Deeper than any of your complaints about indoctrination and too intense for any gene fuckery.”

He’s right, because he’s more mandokarla than he’ll ever admit. Bo-Katan claws her temple and shakes her head. “Manda wept. I don’t want to welcome the Republic on Mandalore, but I’d sure as shab welcome you. And your men.”

“All however many million there are left?”

“We’ve got lots of wide, open spaces.” That’d be one way to resolve the equatorial DMZ: plant an army of Kryze-friendly Fetts inside the probably-habitable zone and make Keldabe wet itself in a confusion of joy and terror—and inform that august, Republic-sponsored body of hot air known as the Commission for Ecological Restoration to get some thrust up their project or Kalevala will be next.

“What twenty acres and a bantha?” he scoffs. “Actually, you should put that before the Senate. They’ll need to put us out to pasture somewhere.”

“Good luck getting the grass to seed. But you’d be wasted in wasteland.”

He cocks his head, mouth fighting the pull of a grin. This close, she can see the lines where previous smiles have lingered. “Where would you have me?” he asks. “Weeding the palace water garden?”

“Chief Protector.”

He snorts and snatches the bottle back. “Pretty sure that’s an entire subgenre of Mando porn.”

“It’s an actual title,” she snaps, a bit offended, foolishly, on the Protectors’ behalf. Those True Mandos by any other name won’t lift a finger to help anyone who isn’t the Mand’alor, and they’ll willingly stagnate on Concord Dawn for another six centuries before they’ll help decide the question. “Fett came from a Protector line. You could carry on the family tradition.”

Bo-Katan leaves off the part about how warm and wet she’s getting at the thought. A decade ago, she pleaded into those same dark eyes, begging to be hired—for what, she didn’t know, but she’d been young and desperate to prove her mettle. Now she’s the one recruiting from the army Fett had spawned; but still she feels powerless, like trying to buy in on a high stakes game with flimsi.

He uncrosses his arms and tucks them behind his head. “I’ve got a lot of brothers.”

“None of them are you.” The brandy speaks for her into the inviting space between his rich lips and his artificially stiff crotch. Fecund as a tibanna clip, is how he'd described himself once; but her lust, hardwired and long-fermented, wants whatever he’s got to unload into her. She'd been angry. The emotion has slipped sharply into desire, born on the same current of frustration.

“This is definitely the most elaborate means of propositioning me,” he says.

“Okay, I’ll put it more crudely.” Throwing her legs up around his waist, Bo-Katan flops into the Commander’s hard lap. And she kisses him, firmly.

He grunts in surprise. His hands seize her biceps, gripping hard. But he doesn’t push her off, and he doesn’t pull back.

She cradles his strong jaw and drinks in the smell of him: caf and ozone and stale sweat. He is all dirtside organic, up here in deep space. Like a mud-spitting fight, like a dug-in siege—nothing she needs right now, but everything her quickened heart wants.

His hands hold fast; his lips yield. Bo-Katan presses the slim advantage and offers her tongue, which he accepts in wet agreement.

It’s stupid. Bo-Katan of Past and Future scowls in disgust at Bo-Katan of Present, trying to get off by grinding on the first Fett who’s listened to her. But why else has she survived, if not to find him again in the deepest dark? She is dha’cenaar and she has been patient.

She sucks on his tongue, teasing him with profane possibilities—teasing herself, too. Chief Protector Cody, thighs bared, the Mand’alor wrapping her lips around his cock as he stands rigid, upholding the dignity of his post at the right hand of the throne. “Come with me,” she moans into his open mouth. Conquer your conquerors, she thinks, and let’s put the fear of Fett into Sundari again.

“And what,” he huffs, biting her lower lip, “my lady will bare besh and wash her servant’s sins with the cream of her loins?”

Bo-Katan actually laughs, with a squirt into her flightsuit. He has all the delicacy of a goran left too long in their forge, and it’s her favorite thing about him. “Coreward holoporn sometimes gets it right.”

Her infatuation with Jango, a man she'd met but twice, had been girlish; now she's in the fullest flush of mature desire over this finest clone of his, this Cody, who somehow improves even on the original. She mouths him with greed, their measured kisses lost to strong-jawed lust. She aches to press the hot give and take of his flesh into her memory for later—after he’s denied her again, and she’s left chasing this feeling of flame up her spine.

He matches her hunger and widens his seat, sinking into his spine. It lifts his codplate just enough to kiss her crotch. Bo-Katan is close, very close to forgiving every fool’s hope that cost so much fuel to bring her here.

Defenses well and properly downed, he lets go of her arms. Big, balmy hands spread over the swell of her hips; his wrists bump against the butts of her Westars. She imagines tossing him one, his sharp brow sighting down the barrel to find Saxon’s pale temple and painting a bright bloodflower onto Sundari glass. A proper initiation: welcome to the clan, Kote—now you’ve earned the name.

Bo-Katan’s head lolls back, giving him access to her neck, where he gnaws and sucks the skin above her suit, stealing her breath at her throat. It's the most intimate anyone's been with her in months upon months. Birdbumbs bristle down her body, even to her curling toes. She threads her fingers into his close curls. His thumbs begin to explore the creases that dip from her hips towards—

Klaxons wallop the room with ear-splitting fury.

“Shab,” they both choke out, in their truest moment of commonality yet. She wants to rib him about it, but his comm chirps to life.

“SOS from Triple-Zero, sir. Grievous. Action quarters to be assumed. Admiral Yularen standing by to issue the jump on General Kenobi’s command.”

“Copy that,” he says with the unhurried care of naval deadweight.

“Not while I’m here, he’s fucking not.” Bo-Katan scrambles from his lap and grabs her helmet. Her licked blood turns bilious again to remember that it will take seven standard days to limp back to Mandalore from here. She’ll be damned if she gives Maul any more of a head start. If Tano is necking her captain in a supply closet somewhere, she’ll have thirty seconds to show before she's left behind.

Aggravated by the shrill wail of alarm against plasteel, she leaves the Commander before he's even risen from his chair, probably comfortable that he has thousands of hyper-capable subordinates to run the general alarm SOPs finer than strill down. She’s turned down the last of four corridors when he finally catches up with her.

“A Mandalorian is always welcome in a warzone, you know,” he teases loudly.

She rolls her eyes, coming to a stumped halt before the turbolift bays. “So come visit mine, when you’ve sorted out yours.”

He summons the correct one for her. “With or without a venator?”

“Just the brigade,” she says, stepping into the proffered lift. He comes halfway inside himself to punch a series of buttons. Snatching a grope on his cod, her fingertips catching the warm lip of his plate behind his balls, Bo-Katan holds him stiffly before her. “If those bay doors close before I’m clear, I’m lighting that hangar up.”

He wrenches her wrist free with a backwards step and a backthrottle turn into seriousness. “Hot air won’t get you an army, but it might bring one down on you.”

"Who knows, I might enjoy that," she tries to sneer. But it just stings and wells up behind her eyes, as another door closes on her hope for Mandalore.

#bocody #bo-katan kryze #commander cody #bo-katan #siege of mandalore #biscuit fic #tcw #clone wars saved

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abalonetea · 4 years

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Heyo! So I'm like suuuuuuuuper lost on like all of your WoW posts lol. Would you mind giving me a basic run down of your characters pretty please?

hey! of course! i’ll be honest, i’m still making and fleshing out a lot of the character, but this is a pretty quick and basic run-down of what I've got so far! thank you for the lovely ask!

this is missing a few of the characters that aren’t super fleshed out yet, and yes, this is my largest cast out of the CHP series!

_-_-_

Wings of War is set during the early 1970′s, in an alternate history that allows for some advanced technology, the inclusion of Intent, and the addition of wings being a natural part of some human’s forms.

it follows four teams (fluctuating numbers between five and eight members at various points) who have been hired by the Guiding Star Corporation. their job is to “develop advancements in technology, human endurance, and product testing” which, as it turns out, means that they fight to the death in endless matches, brought back to life using what’s known as a Respawn Machine.

the teams (north, south, east, and west) are shipped between ten different bases, scattered across several different countries. this represents the ability to pick different maps in most fighting, pvp, or 1st person shooter games.

on each teams, there are specific roles that the GSC are looking to have filled. each team has a “building” class, for example, which creates the titles of Builder, Maker, Techie, and Engineer. the “sneak” class consists of Assassin, Spy, Rouge, and Thief. each class can only be filled by someone with a specific set of traits, which results in, essentially, total reliance on GSC.

two teams have wings, and two teams don’t. i’m still working on filling out all the roles and creating all the characters, but here’s a basic run-down of what I have so far!

_-_-_

Adele Adler - the handler, the woman in charge. She runs relay between all four teams, doling out missions, handling issues that arrive on and off base, and acting as go between for the Teams and the Council. she’s supposed to keep her distance between them, and had managed that for all the teams before now, but...the men are growing on her! she has a surprising soft spot for most of them, and finds herself more and more willing to turn blind eyes on their shenanigans.

Jeremy - West Team’s “fast class”, this boy is a Speedster through and through. he has a short temper, a severe anger problem, and briefly made a living running drugs out in Boston. his weapon of choice is a chunk of wood with some sharp nails in it, and he can hit harder than you would think. runs his mouth a lot but is the only person on his team with any ability to understand the words take care of yourself.

Joshua - West Team’s Sharpshooter, and originally from New Zealand. lives in a camper just inside of the perimeters of the base. anti-social and with no interest in changing that, he took on the job because there’s a very large bounty on his head that Adele promised to get rid of.

Feliciano - the Rouge of the West team, he tries very hard to make himself look proper and put together but usually fails. had a bad reputation going when he first started, because he was pretty sick and just Not Feeling Socializing, but it’s easy enough to see that he’s a good guy these days. a former bodyguard.

Lucas - the Techie, and originally from Sao Paulo. he loves sugar sweet coffee, and has a prosthetic leg that’s fueled by Intent and a rare mineral. a technical engineer, meaning he uses Intent to make new technological advances. can talk for hours if you hit a subject that he likes.

Deiter - the Doctor of West team. he’s a good man, though he tends to have extremely manic episodes that are not helped by the incredible amount of upper’s he can often be seen taking. lost everything when the city he lived in was blown up during WW2. fiercely protective of his team-mates.

James - known as the General of the team. fought in WW2. suffered a severe head injury that still affects him today. a kind man with a lot of personality, and a love for animals. if you tell him something, he will likely forget it. don’t hold it against him, because he’s already doing that himself.

Tony - the Runner and local loudmouth of North team. you cannot pay this boy to be quiet, and he’s both stupid as a bag of bricks and also incredibly intelligent. from New York, where he had a lovely stint robbing the Italian mafia blind with his husband, Rizzo, until they were both shot up and picked up by Adele.

Rizzo - the Demolitions Expert of North team, and actually pretty adorable if you can get past the fact that he’s incredibly crass and has no filter between mind and mouth. Hopelessly in love with his husband, even if no one else realizes they’re married. he will burn water if you let him cook, so maybe best if you don’t.

Werner - the North team’s Medic. he’s absolutely batshit, but has a good heart. was running a black market ring in the country side when Adele found him, though he was originally from Oslo. couldn’t speak anything but German and Norwegian before coming to work for the GSC. has two pet rats.

Francois - served as a spy in WW2, and currently the North team’s Assassin. has a HEART based injury with a lot of the same symptoms as tuberculosis. was picked up by the GSC with an offer of as-of-unheard of medication. sardonic, and prone to cracking jokes that most of his team don’t pick up on.

Loto - the Archer, and a member of North team. from the Louisiana bayous, and great with a cross bow. has an old coonhound that sleeps in bed with him, but who Loto claims to hate. often forgets that he needs to actually go to the kitchen and get food, and that the food he needs is easily available.

Braeburn - the Mechanic, and the longest running member of any of the active teams. has a prosthetic arm. really fond of sweet tea, and more idea of what’s going on than he’s willing to let on. bound up in so many contracts, it’s literally woven into his Intent.

Elias - the OG title, Soldier, and a member of South team. fought in WW2, where he briefly met Francois before being shipped to Poland. was discharged after being severely injured, and lived homeless on the streets for a while with BJ. originally from Canada but ended up in America during his discharge due to an error on his papers. suffers from brain tumors caused by extended exposure to Iradium in the war.

BJ - the Hurricane (class title will change, I just needed a placer, oops) of South team. left an abusive home at fifteen and has been on the streets since. took a contract with GSC to get Elias medical treatment. dyslexic, and often described by his team as “being a lot”. uses a steel pipe for his preferred weapon. loves talking and telling stories.

Olek - the Firepower of the team, literally. can probably punch you hard enough to get a KO, but fights with an Iradium powered flare-gun that does serious damage. from Russia, with a strict I won’t tell you anything about my past policy, and a bizarre fondness for bears. great at giving hugs when you’re down.

Jakob - the Maker of the team. has a highly advanced prosthetic eye. losing the vision in his other eye. the guy who picked up BJ and Elias. has a real morality struggle between the job he does, and his own views on Mercy. probably needs a hug more than he lets on.

Scout - the Scout of East team, and yes, he does think that’s funny. grew up the oldest of six kids, with a single mother. started doing deals behind the schoolhouse to bring in some extra cash, and it got out of hand when he got older. has severe ADHD. can and will count cards if you play poker with him. no common sense.

Jane - the Guard of East team. unofficially fought in WW2. a big softy, under all that gruffness. suffering from major hearing loss, and with the habit of virtually never taking off his helmet. a pretty shy guy, and any kindness sent his way will catch him off guard.

Christophe - the Spy of the team, he was drafted into the Korean War, where he served a grueling eight months before being attacked by military trained dog-horses and sent home. a chronic insomniac who never settled back into civilian life, and has an abysmally childish sense of humor.

Ollie - the Arsonist of the team, he was living homeless in Daytona before Seamus found him. has horrible decision making skills and a pretty rough past, and considers the base home near instantly. his self-care skills could use some boosting, and he tries really hard to not mess things up.

Seamus - technically the Gunner of the group, but he would rather just make a lot of bombs and use them instead. missing an eye, and has a lot of self-worth issues and a pretty heavy accent that his speech impediment doesn’t help. a drunk, but having Ollie around’s been proving to be good for him.

#wip wow #wow characters #wow chatter #bookish tag #I had so much fun writing this up

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rosesisupposes · 5 years

Note

Ordinary Night

“send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it”

Prompt Tag

word count: 3,875

pairings: Ex-Anxceit; Background Remile;

warnings: divorce/abandonment; lost child; mentions of depressive and manic episodes; distressed nonverbal episode;

reader tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty

I came up with the Single Dad AU a while ago but it’s never emerged from Discord to become a full story, but I love it very, very much. So thank you, nonny, for the excuse

Read on Ao3

“Give it back!”

“No, Dad said it’s my turn to pick the movie!”

“You always pick the same one! I’m tired of Winnie the Pooh!”

“But I like it!”

“Can we at least watch the Tigger one?”

“No! Pooh Bear!”

Young voices whined back and forth in an argument that had been held at least once a week for the last three months in the Sanders household. Six-year-old Patton was climbing on top of the couch cushions, brandishing the remote as eight-year-old Roman tried to reclaim it. Their younger brother, four-year-old Logan, watched from the corner in silence.

Their dad entered the room and, with practiced ease, plucked Patton from his teetering perch on the couch.

“Hey, hey, buddy, careful, okay? You might fall from up there!”

“Daaddd, Ro is trying to take my night again!”

The single father balanced his middle son on his hip as he looked sternly down his eldest.

“Roman, what have we talked about with movie nights?”

The second-grader sighed heavily, crossing his arms. “He gets to pick whatever movie he wants,” he recited, blowing strawberry blonde hair out of his eyes. “Even if it’s boring.”

“Pooh Bear isn’t boring!” Patton objected loudly, making his father wince from the volume.

“Is too!”

“Is not!”

“Boys. We will skip movie night entirely if you can’t behave,” Dad warned. Both children immediately went silent, but stuck tongues out at each other when they thought Dad couldn’t see.

“I’m going on an adventure, so that at least not all of today is boring,” Roman announced, running to the toy box for his tiny foam sword. “Where’s my noble steed?”

“I wanna come!” Patton cried, wriggling out of his father’s hold. Taking the remote back, Dad let him go as a small smile crept up at the corners of his mouth. How quickly they went from feuding to playing.

“Let’s go slay a dragon!” Roman cried, stabbing the air.

“What if we fight a witch?” said Patton with huge eyes, grabbing his matching foam shield.

“A dragon-witch!” Roman announced happily. “Lolo, wanna come?”

The youngest looked at the floor through glasses he already needed. “…don’ wanna”

“Aw, Lolo, you sure?”

“…scary,” the toddler said.

“We’ll protect you,” Patton said, crouching to look in his brother’s eyes. “Roro is the best knight ever! And I have a shield!”

Logan shook his head. Patton sighed and carefully patted his hand. “Next time? But only if you wanna, okay?”

Satisfied at the small nod, Patton trotted upstairs. Roman cast around before crouching behind the couch. “Ah! My steed!” he said happily. He stood with a cat in his arms. The tom bore being carried with long-suffering patience, held around the middle by small arms that could only just make it all the way around.

“Ro, be careful with Thomas, okay?” Dad warned. “Pat’s taken his medicine, but don’t let him bury his face in fur again.”

“Yes, I’ll be careful,” Roman said with all the indignance a eight-year-old could muster. He jauntily strode up the stairs after his brother, arms full of cat and sword.

His father watched him go as he settled on the couch. Logan crawled up into his lap and settled there, sitting up straight but balanced on his dad’s knee.

“Hey there, L. No adventure today?”

Logan shook his head.

“Just don’t want to, or something wrong?”

The little boy was silent.

“How is touching today? Thumbs up?” his dad asked, hand creating the gesture he referred to. His son responded in kind. Moving slowly, Dad pulled Logan into his chest, resting a hand lightly in the boy’s dark brown hair.

“Do you have the words for the something wrong, or is it just bad?” he asked softly.

“…miss Papa,” Logan replied, turning his head fully into Dad’s chest.

His father kissed the top of his head and held him close. He knew of his son’s tears from the dampness on his shirt rather than any sounds or shaking. When he could finally speak evenly, he replied, “I miss him too, Lolo.”

“When does he come back?”

“Maybe never.”

“Why?”

“I wish I knew, kiddo. I’m sorry I can’t give you a good reason.”

Logan clutched at the fabric of Dad’s shirt, still not looking up.

His father kissed his head again and leaned back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling as he blinked away tears. He was so tired of crying, so tired of knowing neither he nor his sons might ever understand why their other father had left. But it had been months without any communication, since they came home from the park to an empty house and a missing suitcase.

Three young boys, one beloved cat, one father who’d just lost the love of his life and his partner parent all at once. That was the Sanders household now. A night of childish yells and tears from the boys and their father alike: this was an ordinary night.

So how was Dad doing? He was a nervous wreck, of course. If he’d been a bit on edge before, it was nothing compared to the absolute personification of anxiety Virgil had become now.

As he breathed deeply to calm himself, Virgil ran a hand lightly through Logan’s soft, wavy hair. “What do you say to some Magic School Bus before dinner, Lo? Would that be good?”

“Mmhmm,” the toddler said with a nod, sliding off his dad’s lap.

As Virgil stood, Logan reached for his hand and pulled him towards the stairs. Virgil let himself be led to the smallest bedroom, where Logan immediately went to his small but growing book collection. He pulled out a CD that Virgil then placed in the small speakers he’d bought, back when he and his ex had adopted Roman. The “Baby Boombox,” Ethan had called it, as he filled Ro’s room with all his favorite Broadway soundtracks and Disney ballads. Then had come Patton, with Raffi songs and lullabies because they were the only things that would send him to sleep smiling when Roman was still active during naptime. And now there was Logan, who was soothed by the smooth strains of classical musicals and who listened with rapt attention (if not complete understanding) to audiobooks of all kinds. Virgil popped in Logan’s choice, “Lost in Space” and set it to play. Logan scooted his tiny plush chair as close as he could to the speaker and sat, staring up in wonder as his favorite narrator read about Ms. Frizzle’s class and whirling planets. Without interrupting, Virgil slipped out of his youngest son’s room and made his way to the kitchen to start dinner.

The pasta was cooking and the sauce bubbling on the stove when Virgil’s phone buzzed against the counter. He glanced at the screen and smiled.

If the past year had taught him anything, it was just how important family could be. He and his brother use to have a rather rocky relationship, never spending much time together. Unfortunately, Ethan had been part of the reason for the rift - Remy had never liked his brother-in-law and was never any good at hiding it. Normally when he was proven right about anything, Remy held it over his younger brother’s head for the rest of their lives. But not this time. Not when they’d sparked into full-on screaming matches over the years as Virgil asserted that Remy was wrong about Ethan. He was a good partner and an amazing father. He’d even said it, hadn’t he? His biggest ambition in life was to be a good papa.

Guess that had been a lie, too.

But no amount of friction and distance could have kept Remy away the night Virgil had called in tears. “Nuncle” Remy had been a near-constant fixture in the Sanders house ever since, particularly in those first couple of months. It had been Remy who’d suggested Virgil get the boys to therapists early, right after the split. It had been Remy’s husband Emile who’d found them matches among his colleagues, ones who made the boys feel safe and heard. It had been those therapists who discovered the reason behind Roman’s mood swings, identifying his bipolar personality disorder early and helping Virgil to get him the appropriate treatment. It had been Emile who’d cautiously suggested he get Logan fully evaluated for autism, and found him compassionate parenting resources to help relate and communicate with Lo better. Virgil would be a wreck without his brother and brother-in-law – or, rather, he’d be more of a wreck.

Which is why, when Logan went missing, Remy was the instinctual first call.

He’d heard Roman and Patton bounce down the stairs into the den, making dramatic sound effects as they fought their dragon-witch. He hadn’t heard the door open, or the soft steps of Logan following his brothers downstairs. He hadn’t seen Thomathy the tomcat be loosed into the yard as Roman cried, “Ride into the sunset, noble steed!” He hadn’t seen Logan stand on his tiptoes to re-open the door and follow the cat outdoors.

He’d just called for the older two boys and gone upstairs to get Logan when he’d found the CD player off and the chair empty. And that’s when the panic had kicked in.

“Lolo?” he called upstairs.

“Buddy?” he asked the den.

“Logan?!” he almost screeched into the basement.

Roman and Patton were obediently sitting at the kitchen table, fidgeting, when Virgil re-entered, eyes ablaze. “Where’s your brother? Was he playing with you?”

“No, he was too scared,” Roman scoffed.

Patton, on the other hand, looked concerned. “I think maybe he followed us? He was trying to pet Tommy.”

“Where is Thomas?” their father asked, the edge in his voice rising. “You were playing with him, where did he go?”

Roman shrank in his seat as he realized this was more than just make-believe. “He… I wanted him to be free?” He pointed to the back door with a shaky hand.

Virgil stared at his eldest son, biting back harsh words of frustration. He was eight, he didn’t know better yet. But the panic was rising, thrumming through his veins and disrupting his ability to think straight.

He grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial to Remy.

“Rem? I need you here,” he said the minute his brother picked up. “Logan got out of the house chasing the cat.”

“Shit, okay, I’ll be there in 5,” Remy said, already hanging up before Virgil could point out that he lived a ten-minute drive away. He arrived in three. Normally his driving habits pissed Virgil the hell off, but at that moment, it was all he can do to not cry in relief as he grabbed a flashlight and his extensive first aid kit from under the sink and ran out the back door.

Remy was soon placing himself bodily in front of the door to prevent either older brother from charging after.

“I’m a bad prince, I’m the villain,” Roman choked out through his tears. “It’s all my fault.”

“I gotta keep him safe!” Patton said. He tried and failed to climb onto the counter, but grabbed what ‘supplies’ he could reach into his school bag, a collection of juiceboxes and goldfish and band-aids.

“Hey, hey, little dudes, c’mon,” Remy said, trying to sound as soothing as possible. “C’mere.”

They were just small enough and he was just big enough to gather them both into his arms at once, even as they wriggled and tried to escape.

“Dad’s gonna get Lo back, okay? They’ll both be back soon,” he said, carrying the boys to the couch. “And Tomma-llama-ding-dong too.” He placed them both on the couch. They were both red-eyed and drippy-noed, but no longer trying to make a break for it. He grabbed tissues and wiped their faces and noses, moving gently. He watched Roman particularly hard. He’d been present for downward spirals before, when the mania and hyperactivity fell, gradually or suddenly, into dark days where the boy could barely get out of bed.

Remy ran soft fingers through Roman’s light hair, remembering. The worst depressive episode had lasted a full week and a half, and Virgil had been despondent. It was right after that bastard Virgil’s ex had walked out on them, and of course Virgil had blamed himself, telling Remy that Ro’s depression was all his fault for not being a good enough father. He would have curled up around his boy and begged him to be okay, if Remy hadn’t sat on his chest reminded him that he had two other sons that needed him. Childish? Yes, quite literally, sitting on him was Remy’s favorite way of picking on his little brother when they had been children themselves. But it had worked, and Roman was getting treatment now, both medications and therapy, and both his uncles and his dad had learned strategies to help keep him from getting trapped in his up- and down-swings.

Now, Patton imitated Remy, patting a slightly-stick hand on Roman’s shoulder in a sweet attempt at grounding techniques. More than any of the boys, Patton took after Virgil, always trying to keep his brothers safe. He was fierce in his defense of them towards others, but gentle and soft when he saw them sad. Remy ruffled Patton’s honey-gold curls with his free hand and stood. He had Roman and Patton Sanders in his care, and they were sad and worried. It was time for some Disney movies.

The sun was falling below the horizon as Logan followed the family cat into the woods behind their house. He trotted as fast as his still-chubby toddler legs could carry him, following the brown-and-black striped tail of the big tabby. Galloping paws quickly carried the pet out of sight, but Logan kept plodding along in the same vague direction. Scarcely noticing the growing dark, he clutched his worn, stuffed octopus tightly in one hand as he walked further and further into the forest. When Papa had asked when he wanted to name it, he’d looked up and said “Octopus.” His tone had been one of “Well, duh,” and his voice had been so deadpan for a three-year-old that Virgil had fallen into intermittent fits of giggles for hours after. But he’d carried it continuously ever since, particularly as he listened to his books on the deep sea. He clutched it tight as he finally caught up to Thomas. The tabby had found a mossy patch under a tree, caught in the last patch of sunlight, and curled up contently. Logan sat next to him and patted his head, content that he’d finally done what he set out to do. But looking up, the toddler realized he could no longer see the edge of the forest and wasn’t sure which direction he’d come from. He was in the middle of the forest, alone, with no notion of how to get home. Logan didn’t cry, or yell, or flail. He just froze, everything locking down in the face of a situation he didn’t understand and couldn’t solve. He might have stood like that for minutes or hours, but Thomcat chose that moment to stand with a stretch and wind his way around his smallest family member, purring as he rubbed up against Logan’s short legs. The warmth drew him out of his paralysis, and he sat heavily on the mossy stump. The cat leapt into his lap, covering most of his tiny torso in warm fur as the beloved pet continued to purr. Clutching tufts of Thomas’ fur in one hand and Octopus in the other, Logan’s emotions thawed and he started to sniffle, then cry aloud. His hiccups and sobs reverberated off the unfamiliar trees that surrounded him.

Virgil crashed through the trees, flashlight and first aid kit in hand, trying his best to keep a level head. Logan was missing. His little boy, the tiniest, quietest member of their family, was alone, somewhere probably dying in the forest definitely kidnapped by child stealers lost in the unfriendly woods. He’d made that promise, over and over again through the long adoption process: he would keep his sons safe. He would protect them. He wouldn’t let anything dangerous happen to them. Ethan may not have meant it, but Virgil had, with every fiber of his being. He would keep his family safe, every single member.

He trusted Remy to be a good caretaker to Pat and Ro right now, but he worried for his eldest. He just dashed into ideas and plans without thinking, so much more than either of his brothers. And of course, Virgil knew why. A memory sprang to life like a film reel in his head without his bidding.

“Papa, look at me! I’m gonna be just like Peter Pan! I can fly!”

“Of course you can, Roro! If you wish hard enough!”

A summer day, lazy and bathed in golden light. It had been magical in a way - no wonder Roman had believed in super abilities. But that moment, Virgil had finally seen what was happening as he rounded the corner, an infant Logan strapped to his chest and Patton holding his hand.

“Fly- Roro! Kiddo, please get down from the roof!”

Ethan had just chuckled. “Shhh, V, he’ll probably be fine. He’s gotta learn somehow, right?”

Patton, all of three years old and still lisping, had shook a finger at his older brother.

“Wowo, get down fwom thewe!”

“You can’t stop me, ‘m a PRINCE!” the five-year-old had yelled back, approaching the edge of the shed roof.

Virgil had dropped Pat’s hand to run, shrieking more than speaking as he yelled, “Roman Sanders, do not jump off that roof! You’re going to get down safely!”

Ethan had barely budged, too busy laughing his ass off. It had ended up being Virgil alone who helped Roman get down, letting him be Dad the Downer while Papa stayed ‘the fun one’ in Roman’s eyes. Was it any wonder he’d blamed himself for Ro’s bipolar swings?

But he’d learned better since then. Being a ‘fun’ dad didn’t matter at all if he couldn’t keep them safe, first and foremost. He would find his little boy, and their cat, and he would bring them home. He checked his first aid kit as he walked and sighed with relief. He’d remembered to re-stock it recently. In addition to the bandages and ice packs and ointments and band-aids in everyone’s favorite characters, he’d packed everyone’s favorite treats. He had cat treats for Thomas, which he immediately took out and started wafting, and he had tiny containers of Crofter’s jelly, Logan’s only favorite food that he always wanted to eat, no matter his mood. Virgil listened to the forest hard for any noise besides the rustling wind. He had his flashlight turned on even before the sun fully set, to make sure Logan would see him coming. His heart still raced, frantically pointing out every passing second and minute that his son remained missing. Every moment he was out here was another moment he could be tripping over roots or eating poisonous berries or getting a rash or being abducted or hitting his head or…

Deep breaths, Virge, he reminded himself. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight. The calming reminders in his head spoke with Emile’s voice, gentle and soothing. He could only do his job as Dad if he kept his head and stayed alert. He listened hard again, noting small animals, leaves falling, choked sobs, branches cracking, distant cars, and -

Sobs! Where were they coming from?

He picked up his pace, needing to double back a couple times before he was heading in the direction of the noise. He swept his flashlight in front of him with one hand and shook the cat treats with the other as he called out.

“Logan? Is that you? Logan? Thomas?”

The sobs stopped abruptly, and the flashlight beam illuminated a tiny form unraveling itself from a fluffy one almost the same size. “Dada?”

Virgil sprinted the last few yards. He worried for a moment that Logan might need to avoid touch right now, but that fear was dispelled with the toddler threw himself into his father’s arms.

“Lolo, are you alright? I was so worried, kiddo! Did you hurt yourself? Were you scared? I’m here, I’ll get you home, okay?”

“Dada, ‘m sorry.”

“Why sorry, Loberry?”

“I was bad, an’ I got lost,” Logan said, gripping Virgil’s jacket and Octopus with equal tightness.

“Oh, my little Lo, no, you weren’t bad. We should have been with you, I should have been watching. I’m so sorry, honeybear. But you’re safe now, okay? We’re gonna go home.”

Virgil knelt, picking up Logan and balancing him on one hip, then picking up a long-suffering Thomas and draping the cat over his shoulder. He was a bit encumbered by his first aid kit, but nothing could bother him now that his little boy was safely in his arms.

Searching for Logan had felt like an eternity, but had been less than 20 minutes. When father and son and cat entered the back door, the Disney movie (Sleeping Beauty, Remy’s choice) hadn’t yet finished. The door closing woke up Roman and Patton from where they had dozed off, but they were immediately up and hugging Virgil’s legs.

Their father ruffled their heads as he gentled let Logan stand on his own, then pulled them all into a group hug.

“We’re gonna talk tomorrow, okay, kiddos? About Thomas safety and Lolo safety. But tonight we’ll just relax together, now that we’re all home. I love you all so much.”

“I love you, Dad”

“Love you too!”

“Me too, Dada.”

By the end of the night and the second movie (Atlantis, Logan’s request, and Patton had conceded that he didn’t want any movies with woods), the Sanders house had quieted. Virgil could feel his heartbeat return to normal for the first time in hours as he gazed fondly at his sons. All three had fallen asleep, sprawled across the couch and Virgil’s lap. Remy had helped them change before heading home with a last firm hug and reassurance that, “You done good, bro.” Logan’s head rested on Virgil’s thigh, the horn of his unicorn onesie flopping over as he slept. Patton was snuggled up as close as Logan had okayed, cat ears folded over on his one onesie. And Roman had pulled a pillow on the ground so that he could be next to all of them, a tiny lion defending his pride in the onesie that he was practically “too old for,” but that he’d still wear when Pat asked him to. Thomas the tomcat, exhausted by his forest adventure, was curled into a ball in a laundry basket.

So how was Dad doing?

He’d never be completely at ease, not with so much depending on him, not with so many obstacles to overcome. But for tonight, Virgil was content.

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etherian-affairs · 5 years

Text

New celebrations and old issues aka, I made a fic about two OCs Jim, from HR and an OFC

(Submission, A Jim from HR fanfic oh my God. @helilart look at this.)

New celebrations and old issues

A short story about a genetically enhanced Horde administrator and the tired planetary advisor he employs getting ready for a party.

*******************************************

Year 2068 Horde Planet - 28B-0003 - Tellus

“Jimndak, sir?” the assistant intoned, not even trying to keep her annoyance and exhaustion out of her voice this time. They had been at this for well on four and a half hours now. “I really don’t see why we’re still shopping, you already have several nice dresses.”

Here, it turned out, was another very exclusive and high end clothing boutique deep in the Old City. One of Jimndak’s favorite boutiques and the very few that knew of his body dimensions on hand.

A low groan was heard from one of the dressing stalls and the door to it opened, revealing its occupant. The creature that revealed itself was definitely not of this world originally. At seven and a half feet tall, with dusky blue skin and a stubbed nose and long ears like that of a bat, Jimndak cut a terrifying figure. The grey, skull-like markings along his face and sharp, talon-like hands only added to that.

The gorgeous dress the creature was wearing and how well his body wore it, did absolutely nothing to contradict that first impression of fear. The attitude the alien displayed next, however, would change that.

“Oh come on, Mira.” Jimndak whined, hands on his hips and now pouting. “You love dress shopping with me.” His deep voice was tinged in exhaustion too and his normally toussled mohawk was drooped with sweat. Mira had watched her administrator all day and his near manic actions were startling to say the least.

While normally active, Jimndak wasn’t one to exhaust himself like this. Not without reason.

“I do love shopping trips with you.” Mira assured, relaxing deeper into the seat to rest her sore back. “But not one that makes me go all across town and takes several hours. Besides, you haven’t told me why we’re going to great lengths in finding the "perfect evening gown”, as you put it, in the first place.“

—————-

A few hours earlier–

Half a world away from the Capitol and the Space Dock, the Old City was a quiet respite from the hustle and bustle the Capitol City teamed with. The older buildings were repaired years ago, verdent gardens and winding parks growing alongside them. The people, her people, living and playing almost as easily as they did before the Horde came and claimed their world.

She, and the other Planetary Advisors before her, had made sure of that.

They parked their Mothership far away and had taken a hovercraft to reach their destination, in an attempt to keep the locals from being frightened. But the Supplanter’s large size and tall, angular design made it impossible to be unnoticeable. The vessel floated next to a steep mountain range several dozen miles away from the Old City, glittering in the evening sun and its vertical engines glowing a deep purple while in idle.

At one and a half miles in height and nearly a quarter mile in length, the omnious Mothership dwarfed everything in the area except for the mountains it was parked next to. Even though its main armaments hadn’t been fired in over a decade, it was created to dominate. To control everything in its path and to dole out punishment if desired by its commander.

Again, there was an attempt to try and be inconspicuous with the thing, but it was an admittedly poor attempt on their part.

So the atmosphere within the city was tense, at first. But after a while things went back to normal. Or as normal as things could be with a warship hanging around.

"Do you think we should have parked the ship…behind the mountains?” Mira questioned, grimacing at their ship’s poor attempt at blending in with its surroundings. The floating skyscraper stood out from the jagged and natural peaks of the mountain.

They just exited their hovercraft when they noticed just how conspicuous the Supplanter was. And honestly, Mira wasn’t suprised in the slightest when her travelling companion didn’t give a damn about it when he answered back.

“Too late now, I’m not going back.” Jimndak shrugged, before walking away. “This is only our first stop of the day, so we best get a move on.”

“How many more are we going to have and why are we doing this?” the assistant asked suspiciously, looking back at the administrator with a slight glare. “You only said we’d be dress shopping.”

“I’m going to find the perfect evening gown, amongst other things, and you’re going to help.” Jimndak proudly told her, his eyes and teeth glowing a deep magenta as he pulled his assistant gently into the first store. “I’ll tell you more soon enough.”

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Mira mumbled to herself as she was dragged along into the store. The surprised gasps of the other shoppers greeted them both as they entered and Mira sighed deeply. Thanks to this impromptu visit, no one in the area had been alerted by their arrival ahead of time.

Today was going to be a long and tedious one, she just knew it.

———————

Present time–

“So, please Jim, tell me what’s happening.” Mira lightly demanded, sitting up in the plush chair to look up at him better. “You’ve been going at this nearly all day and you still haven’t told me what’s this is all about.”

The Horde Administrator looked down at his assistant, ears tilting in several directions in an attempt to hear any eavesdroppers. Jim already knew it wasn’t really needed since all the shoppers and many of the employees left the shop just as quickly as he and Mira had entered. He sighed heavily before taking the seat next to his advisor, almost sprawling in the chair, not caring about who might see him in this compromising position. Didn’t really matter, the only other person here besides his advisor, was the shop owner in his office.

“There’s ah-” Jim stuttered, the words difficult to say. The Horde Administrator looked at the ceiling for answers, naturally finding none. He knew about his assistant’s dislike of Horde social gatherings and he knew she wasn’t going to enjoy hearing about this one either. Truth be told, he wasn’t looking forward to it either.

“There’s a Queen’s Ball happening in less than thirty days. I was sent word of it yesterday.” He finally spat out, looking back at his advisor’s face once he was finished. The way her dark skin paled and how shaky her body became, Jim knew he had to clear up what the actual Ball meant, and quickly.

“Does that mean-” Mira whispered, her throat now becoming tight and dry. Her stomach already churning in fear.

“No!” Jim nearly yelled and winced at the frightened jolt his advisor had thanks to his too loud voice, his ears now drooping. The Administrator had to reassure his advisor soon, or else she was going to have a panic attack.

“No.” Jim began again, quieter and calmer this time. Jim sat up in his chair and turned his body towards Mira, lightly grasping her hand, knowing it would help her. He didn’t understand why it helped, this wasn’t covered in his programming and training, but it usually worked when his advisor was having an episode.

“It’s not like the Conqueror’s Parade. Lord Mirdak will not attend this function. As far as I know he’s still several hundred thousand quadrants away in the Delphiatmo Galaxy.” Jimndak explained. “The Ball is one of Queen Eldara’s grand parties she has every few years.”

“And why haven’t I heard about this until now?” his advisor asked, her voice stronger but hands still slightly shaking. “This is her planet. I thought she only came when HE came too?” Lord Mirdak conquered the Tellusian system, but it was Queen Eldara who ultimately controlled it. Horde Generals always moved forward in their conquest.

Queen Eldara liked pretty things and Tellus was a gorgeous planet. Naturally she had to have it and requested the world for herself.

“The Queen specifically asked for your presence this time.” Jimndak replied, still petting his advisor’s hand. “She’s been curious as to why you’ve lasted this long as a Planetary Advisor.” At five years and counting, Advisor Mira was one of the longest lasting Administrative Advisors Tellus ever had. Most of the others lasted two years at best, before burning out and walking away.

“I have a job to do and I’m planning to keep doing this until I die one way or another.” Mira stated, her eyes now looking at her Administrator, the hazel colored iris’s burning with some eternal flame. “I don’t see how that’s noteworthy.” Her job was to protect her planet and was going to do that with the only resources avaliable.

The Horde Administrator gasped at the vibrancy of his Advisor and he had to swallow a few times before he could speak again. There was a reason he made her his Advisor. Why she grew into someone he could actually call a companion.

“Th-the Queen does things that are only known to her. She’s…mercurial and hard to read on most occassions.” Jimndak professed, his knowledge of his direct boss just as poor as everyone elses.

“Do I really have to go?” Mira ventured to ask, knowing there wasn’t a way out of an apparent Queen’s Summons. The narrowed brows and deadpan look her Horde Administrator gave her answered that question.

“Ok , fine, I get it I have to go. But what am I gonna wear?” Mira queried. “I’m probably not allowed to wear just my work clothes, right? Just come waltzing in the Queen’s throne room wearing a shirt and pants. Ha! Then you would be needing a new Advisor.” She chortled, laughing at her own poor joke. It was terrible, but it made her feel better.

Jimndak perked up at her question, ignoring the bad joke, and stood Mira up along with himself and guided her to another section of the boutique. The new wing was full of suits, all in different cuts and colors. It wasn’t something Jimndak was fond of, but his Advisor was always a fan of pants and layers.

“I know you can’t choose to not go to the Queen’s Ball, but you can choose what to wear.” Jim reasoned, gesturing to all the suits Mira could pick out. “We have thirty days to find appropriate clothing and get them done to our specifications. So, take your time.”

“…I really don’t know what to say.” Mira whispered, in awe at all the different types of suits she could see, and imaging herself in nearly all of them. She tightened her grip on Jimndak’s hand and made the Horde Administrator look back at her.

“Thank you.” she smiled, feeling a warm blush move across her face. It was strange to her but it felt right.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Jim said back, feeling an odd sensation of heat on the edges of his ears. Normally a sensation like this would have startled Jimndak, but now, he liked the warmth.

They both hoped the other didn’t know what that meant and slowly let go of the other’s hand, with Jimndak looking to find the store owner and leaving Mira to find the perfect outfit.

**************************************

Hope you and Helilart enjoy what I wrote. It was actually a lot of fun and I’m probably gonna write more.

:) love, Bad Ass Anon

======

I’m losing my mind.

In a good way.

#jim from hr #my badass submitting friend #oh my god #holy shit #submission

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kariachi · 4 years

Text

Last episode of the day, and then I’m gonna be trying to organize shit on my Kevin Episode Order list. Actually been looking forward to this one, because I have reason to believe it has Information that I, as a Kevin fan and fanwriter, require.

Let’s start up to Adrenaland Jr.

I would like to point out that I typed up the above at 2pm and it is now 5pm. I am a disaster and mildly afraid of this episode. Also went out to dinner. Scallops and shrimp, it was nice. Moving on.

I still love that Max joins in on the selfie at the end of the intro. I’m sorry, it just warms my little black heart.

Ben, disheartened because Gwen wins at everything she does. Ever.

“You guys will be thanking me for days!“ Good luck, Max.

Oh look, they have been taken to a themepark. The Adrenaland Jr of the title. Adrenaland but kiddified. They do not seem impressed at this first look.

Awww, Max thought this was the same as normal Adrenaland and was trying to be cool. Poor Max.

Okay, scratch that. Ben is unimpressed, Gwen is more than happy to get another Adrenaland pin for her collection. As somebody who collected pressed pennies until they started asking for a whole damn dollar for them, I can relate.

Well she’s a little bit enthusiastic, in case anyone wondered if she and Ben were maybe related.

Max is trying so hard. And Ben is so unimpressed. And Gwen gives no shits because she has a pin to acquire.

Oh gods, she’s gonna have to beat a carnival game to get a pin. All her skills will be put to the test.

And it looks like this really is the one for kids, that is defs a ‘my first rollercoaster’.

The puns are horrible. That alone is worth not coming back to this park.

Ben: I must make this a good ride, so help me god *goes alien*

And we’re back to Gwen’s PinQuest

Oh she was so sure of herself, but Gwen this is a carnival game and so probably rigged to some degree.

Ben please don’t ruin this for the small children.

Left the littles nauseated after altering the ride, which is against the rules. Good job Benjamin, I hope this weighs on your conscience.

...these people are chill, very politely explaining why what Ben did was wrong and giving him a second chance to not fuck with shit before they’re going to move on to actual reprimands.

Ben, I swear to fuck.

Not the teacups, dear gods leave the teacups alone

Goddamnit Ben

Leave the people on the jungle safari alone, child! wtf!

Max is giving him a fourth chance to behave, honestly he’s a more patient man than me.

Even the park staff have had enough.

Stewart (worker of the game Gwen is failing miserably at) is both amazed she’s doing so poorly and also trying to be encouraging. Not quite working.

Also I’m nearly halfway through this episode and wondering where my son is at. I know he’s in this episode I’ve seen screenshots

There is a ‘ride’ that is just playing in a load of socks falling from the sky. Honestly I can almost see the appeal.

There’s my son! Bootleg-ing a Sock Tower. I am both disappointed and proud somehow.

Fucking flails, child? Have you considered adding maybe an ounce of chill to your diet?

Please let these two end up commiserating over how lame these rides are.

(I will admit though I did kinda want this to be something I could put as Kevin officially meeting Gwen, have him show her how to beat that game because he’s bored and holy shit she’s bad at this. It would’ve been nice and a good start to him kinda liking her while still giving her cousin shit.)

Kevin!

“There’s definitely something strange going on here“ Yes and it’s about 4′10 with an attitude problem and no sleeves

Oh look, a Kevin again. I think he’s ruining the day of the people on a ferris wheel, but it’s moving too fast to be sure.

“Dweeby-son and Dweeby-senior“ I feel like I should be judging him for the lack of variety but honestly fuck it, stick to a theme kiddo, live your dreams

“Of course you’d be here at the baby park“ Bitch, you are here too!

Oh lords and Ben can’t even hear him from up there

“See Ben, Kevin likes this park. It is cool!“ Max please.

“Better stop him before he starts destroying somethign else“ Just the tone Ben uses here, and the look on his face. Like a beagle owner whose dog just got really quiet in the backyard so they know it’s halfway across the county by now.

The boys pausing a fight on a roller coaster so a bunch of little kids could go past, because Kev’s a jerk and Ben is reckless but they’re not bad kids at heart.

Damn, Kevin is kicking ass and taking names today

Awww, little kid with a watergun trying to put out Heatbast

Gwen, meanwhile, is about to snap and start wearing people’s skins if she doesn’t beat this game. Kinda worrying Stewart.

Gwen is holding this man hostage until she beats this game. She is the biggest threat to this park right now.

Ben can at least read a room enough to figure out Kevin’s in a fouler mood than usual. Ponders if Kevin has issues with Adrenaland he’s working out with violence. And I am paused right here because, again, I’ve seen screenshots and I am scared.

Yep, my son is in a Mood.

Oh lords the boys ruined Gwen’s near win. Everybody run for shelter!

Sometimes, you look at these boys, and you think ’if they had any sort’ve chill, would they just die?’

Gwen so pissed off she knocked both of them back to human shape and has them cowering with naught but tone and expression

Even when she’s pissed she tries to be reasonable.

Oh gods Kevin pain incoming.

...welp. It’s brief but it damn well don’t need to be longer, we get plenty of info right there. Especially when you keep in mind that this is a visual medium and every choice is deliberate especially with shit like this. Gotta love that ‘subtle’ implication through the use of commercials that Kevin was raised by an alcoholic. If you didn’t read this in slightly forced manic tone, you are wrong.

Also I like the difference between the view we get of Kevin when it’s Kevin’s flashback as opposed to Ben’s. Ben’s flashbacks of Kevin in school have all had him as a joyful tormentor, active, outgoing, and very forward. Meanwhile, the little bit we get from Kevin’s pov has him very clearly alone, head down, not even glancing at the people around him. He doesn’t look up in the flashback until he’s home, and even then the look is one of contempt as he looks towards the front room. For the commercial, for his guardian, for both? We don’t know for sure. Then, when we come back from the commercial to face him again, he just looks tired before turning and heading up the stairs.

Actually, I am still horribly curious. I’m fairly certain all the other flashbacks with him, including his own, include his sleeves being gone, while they’re still around for this one. And the house he built his watch in was very clearly a one-story, while this one appears to be two-story, given the stairs and that Kevin seems to have just come in. Brings me back to my earlier wondering about if he was in foster care or something when we first met him. Or maybe he’s stuck in a dual custody situation, who knows. Just interesting little bits and pieces.

Gwen feels sorry for Kevin, as well she should, everyone should, somebody protect my child.

Ben: I’m done! If you’re a dick because your said then god as my witness you will stop being sad!

Kevin got his ride, and they’re getting kicked out before Gwen can get her pin.

The Tennysons are confused and Kevin unimpressed at the threat of using teddy-bear-based excessive force to remove them

Oh lords they’re being shoved out using squeaky teddybears

Max: At least we aren’t banned this time Park Employee: btw, here’s a You’re Banned pin

Kevin Levin, maintaining the tough-guy facade

Kevin: This park is only for dweebs Ben: This picture of you enjoying the fuck out of that ride I altered says otherwise

Gwen: I thought we got through to him Ben, who knows Kevin much better than she does: Oh we did

Gwen: *much feeling sorry for a Kevin* Kevin: *much ‘wow I actually enjoyed myself with other people for once’*

11/11 for Kevin and for Gwen

#achi liveblogs #ben 10 2.os #somebody protect my son #also it's like 7pm

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conversationswithmybipolarchild · 5 years

Text

#2: WHAT IS BIPOLAR DISORDER?

FELICITY: Bipolar disorder is a mental illness. Key word one: “illness,” meaning you are afflicted with it. Key word two: “mental,” it being a part of the brain.

F: Mental health is as important as physical health. They are both very important, they go hand in hand. Bipolar disorder is a chemical imbalance in the brain. Whether or not it comes upon you after a traumatic event, or when puberty hits, or if it- if you show signs when you’re born, it doesn’t matter. it is all a chemical imbalance.

F: You are born with it, no matter what. You can go...twenty five years without seeing any symptoms, simply because you never had anything to jumpstart your bipolar disorder. But, if you have bipolar disorder, were properly diagnosed with it...you were already born with it. It was already in your brain.

F: Bipolar disorder is categorized by highs and lows in your mood. That’s why it’s called a mood disorder [edit: it can also be called a psychotic disorder]. Not just simple, everyday highs and lows like everybody has, it’s not just “oh, I feel sad today, it’s not just, “oh, I have a lot of energy.” It’s extreme.

ANJA: That’s why they’re called poles. That’s why it’s bipolar disorder

F: Yes, it’s the two poles, the high and the low.

A: The mania and the depression.

F: So mania, is when you...[trails off]...

A: It’s the high.

F: It’s the high. Mania is the high, that means you have a lot of energy, you are very impulsive, can have a lot of aggression, rage, risky thoughts, risky behaviors.

A: Racing thoughts.

F: Racing thoughts, absolutely. Nightmares, hallucinations, hypersexuality, violence, paranoia...

A: Also, I don’t think this is an official symptom, but coming from myself and a lot of other bipolar people, you get this feeling where you’re like, crawling in your own skin.

F: Yeah. Definitely. I hear that one a lot.

F: So, symptoms of a depressive episode is that you...well, you are depressed. Not just kinda sad, you feel really, really, down. When I’m depressed, and I have major depressive disorder, when I’m depressed I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to take a shower. I don’t want to get dressed, I don’t want to do anything, I don’t want to be anything.

A: There’s no motivation whatsoever.

F: No motivation whatsoever.

A: I don’t get depressive episodes very often because I have bipolar I, and I get manic more than I do depressed. I don’t really- I don’t have to worry about depression, unless I like, unless I have no stimulation in my everyday life.

F: You have to stay busy in order to not get depressed. I’m the same way. If I don’t want to sit in that pit, I have to stay busy all the time. That’s why I’m constantly going, and going, and going, and doing, because if I just sit for more than a couple days, I’m in that pit and I don’t feel good.

F: So, another symptom, another result, of bipolar disorder, is uh, suicide. There is a hefty suicide rate among bipolar people. That is- that is the worst part. And as a parent of a bipolar child, knowing the statistics around bipolar disorder and suicide, it’s enough to kickstart me into a depression. It is- it worries me.

A: The, um, I’m not gonna say the only reason, but it is one of the biggest reasons why I didn’t try to kill myself when I was younger, was because I’m so afraid of death. Maybe not death, but what happens after it.

F: To tell you the truth, me too. It absolutely terrifies me.

F: So, some statistics from the NIMH, claim that 2.9% of thirteen to eighteen year olds have bipolar disorder, and eighty one percent of those kids have it severe. It’s bad enough to be hospitalized, and make their life really difficult.

F: So I was reading earlier...about bipolar disorder, and someone asked the question, “can someone with bipolar disorder live a normal life?” And it says here, “people with bipolar disorder usually go ten years before being accurately diagnosed. Treatment can make a huge difference. It is a chronic health condition that needs lifetime management. Plenty of people with this condition do well, they have families and jobs and live normal lives.” So that ought to give you a little hope for the future.

F: That’s...that’s the other thing. Meds...they are- in my opinion, they are a must. It’s beyond me how people aren’t medicated.

A: I think it’s really funny how, um, how after I was diagnosed bipolar, the last thing you wanted me to do was be on meds. Now, we depend on it. We have to. There’s no choice.

F: As you were growing up and you were being misdiagnosed all over the place, meds were the last thing on my mind. We tried every single thing else. We tried discipline, rewards, I tried diet changes, we tried all sorts of therapy, I tried changing the way that I parent! And none of it worked.

A: Because you can’t just change those chemicals. Without medication.

F: You can’t! Exactly. You can’t change those chemicals. Absolutely. I’m the same way with mine, my MDD. It doesn’t fix itself. I need medication to give me the right chemicals. To balance those chemicals in my brain. That is a must.

F: So, we’ve talked about what bipolar is, now let’s talk about what it is not. It’s not learned. It’s not a discipline problem. It’s not something that you can beat out of a child, teach out of a child, train out of a child, It’s not something that’s going to go away. And it’s not something that’s just going to one day change. It’s an ever evolving illness...

A: But it’s always there.

F: But it’s always there. And unless you’re treating it with therapy and medication, you’re fighting a losing battle.

A: Chronic is the key word.

F: Chronic is the key word. Bipolar disorder is a chronic illness.

A: Which, that really scares me. Because I’ll have to live with this for the rest of my life.

F: Let me tell you something. I’ve described severe depression as rain. Imagine you have to go out in the rain. And you have to change the tires on your car, you have to check your mail, you have to walk your dog, you have to go to work. You have to hoe your garden, mow your lawn. Daily things, but you have to do them in the rain. That’s what my brain is like every single day. I will always live doing everything in the rain. And that’s a daunting thing to think about.

F: I can still do all those daily activities, but you know how when you go in the rain, everything’s just harder? And you’re just slightly more miserable doing them? That’s what it’s like with MDD, I’m constantly having to force myself to do things. And when I do them, I’m miserable. It’s harder for me. It’s harder for me to go take a shower than it is for other people. It’s harder for me to do things because it’s like when you’re out in the rain, everything’s just that much harder.

A: It’s like- I’ve said it before- but it’s like when you do anything, it would be much easier for a neurotypical person.

F: It is much easier for a neurotypical person. They’re not fighting chemicals in their brain.

A: They’re not fighting their own mind on a daily basis.

F: Yeah! And I know that’s exhausting. I know your brain is tired. I know you’re tired. I know you are. But you can’t really think about it that way, because then you’ll get overwhelmed. I can’t think about how I will never not be in the rain. I can’t think about it...because that’s just gonna throw me back in that pit. And I can’t live my life, raise my kids, and take care of everything I need to take care of..if I’m in that pit.

A: And it’s okay to be miserable. It’s okay to rest.

F: As long as you don’t give up. I like Kevin Hines’s hashtag, #beheretomorrow. Today might not have been the best day, but as long as you’re here tomorrow, that’s what matters.

F: Let’s touch on what bipolar disorder means for you- for us. What does bipolar disorder mean for you?

A: I really hate to say this but...bipolar disorder is a part of me. And I can’t change that. I mean, sometimes I really wish I didn’t have bipolar disorder, but I don’t know what I would be without it.

F: Absolutely. I completely agree with you. I feel the same way about myself. I don’t know who I would be. I don’t know who my father would have been, who my grandmother would have been, without mental illness.

F: While I understand your sentiment, I think that because you’re medicated, and nobody else was, you are more you.

A: And less bipolar disorder.

F: Yes! Exactly. When you were eight years old and running away and acting out, being violent and raging, I didn’t know who you were! I couldn’t buy you gifts, I didn’t know what you liked. I didn’t know your personality...all I knew was this child I couldn’t connect with. All I knew was this child that absolutely hated me.

A: I was mostly bipolar disorder.

F: One of the more prominent symptoms that you had was lack of motivation. Smartest kid ever, bad grades. It’s not that you didn’t know the work, you just didn’t turn stuff in. Soon as we got you on medication, that mostly changed.

F: Super energy.

A: Aggressive. Frustrated.

F: Violent. Raging. Yeah, those were scary times.

A: I had anger issues.

F: A lot. Yeah. You couldn’t focus on anything. I know a lot of that are symptoms of ADHD.

A: Which is why I got misdiagnosed.

F: But its the hallucinations and the nightmares that sealed the deal. That turned things around. When we brought those up, it turned things around. That’s when the term “bipolar” came into play, and it fit. It fit you.

F: I know that some of the symptoms in my family, that are or were mentally ill, were definitely instability. Never being able to stay put. Not being consistent. Inconsistency was huge.

A: Even me, now, medicated, I can’t stay on the same routine or the same surroundings for more than a month. I have to change something about my life, whether it be my room, or, hell, my Tumblr blog. There has to be something that changes.

F: I agree. I’m the same way. I get very bored very easily.

F: Money! Money was a huge problem when I was growing up. You know, nobody could save. They would spend wildly.

A: Money? You mean lack of!

F: Yeah. It was impulsive spending. That’s one of the bigger symptoms of bipolar disorder in adults. Impulsive spending. That was a huge one when I was growing up.

F: My family was never very affectionate. They were always very distant.

A: I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t affectionate.

F: Well, that’s the whole reason I am affectionate, is because I was starved as a child. I needed affection and I never got it. So, it was super important to me that I be an affectionate parent. I don’t know what I would do if I wasn’t affectionate either, because I thrive on being close to you guys. And I don’t want to raise you in the same situation. In an angry, distant, impulsive, unstable situation. I don’t want to raise you that way.

F: So, what did we learn today?

F: That it’s a little scary.

A: It’s scary.

F: But it can be managed.

A: It can be managed.

F: And you’re doing a fantastic job. And I’m doing a fantastic job, and your team is doing a fantastic job.

F: Do you remember the time we were standing outside Old Navy and you told me you wanted to buy a gun?

[blank stare]

#bipolar disorder #actuallybipolar #actuallybd #actuallybp #children's mental health #pediatric mental health #mental health #mental health awareness #mental illness

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hopeishappinessff · 6 years

Text

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 36

Narrator:

Embarrassed. Humiliated. A laughing stock perhaps? No… no one was laughing. Final conclusion… an utter disappointment. He prayed for an escape… prayed that maybe he could somehow melt away into the cushioned chair he occupied. Or disappear into thin air, if at all possible. He wanted to simply spontaneously combust, because this was entirely too much to bear. Sure, he was aware that a day would come that someone would actually explain to him… him. He was a complex mixture of a human, he knew that. But now that the day had arrived for him to better understand just how complex… he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thrown up yet.

Through pursed, paper thin, pink lips, she sighed and kept her eyes trained on the healthy stack of papers splayed atop her shiny desk. His eyes were cast downward, but he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. He just knew he didn’t have the guts to look at either of them. Dr. Stevenson… or Dr. Yates. She was visiting him on a flat screen today, but for the first time in a long time… he couldn’t look her in the eye. No… not while they were both attempting to apparently ruin his life, yet again.

“Manic-depressive illness or manic depression… commonly known as, bipolar disorder. This disorder is characterized by extreme mood swings that include emotional highs, or mania and hypomania, and lows… depression. During the mania or hypomania phases, the patient will endure extreme euphoria, you will feel full of energy or unusually irritable. Hypersexuality, also referred to as compulsive sexual behavior or sexual addition, can also exist as a sign of the disorder and is described as a dysfunctional preoccupation with sexual fantasies, urges, or behaviors that are difficult to control. Episodes of mood swings may occur rarely, or in your particular case, multiple times a year and they will affect your sleep pattern, energy, activity, judgment, behavior, and ability to think clearly.” Dr. Stevenson read from one of the papers, now held captive between the tips of her fingers. She continued to pause occasionally between paragraphs, as if waiting for him to say something. But, what was he supposed to say? What could he say? What words could be said to make anything about this situation better? Yes, he was aware of his diagnosed mental illnesses. What he was not aware of was an ‘explanation session’… a dual therapy session with the sole purpose of explaining to him exactly what it was that he would be living with for the rest of his life.

“Dissociative identity disorder or DID… a severe condition in which two or more distinct identities, or personality states, are present in – or alternately take control of – an individual… often described by some, as an experience of possession. One can also experience memory loss that is too extensive to be explained by ordinary forgetfulness. DID reflects a failure to integrate various aspects of identity, memory, and consciousness into a single multidimensional self. Usually, a primary identity carries the individual’s given name and is passive, dependent, guilty, and depressed. The alters’ characteristics – including name, reported age and gender, vocabulary, general knowledge, and predominant mood – contrast with those of the primary identity. Certain circumstances or stressors can cause a particular alter to emerge. The various identities may deny knowledge of one another, be critical of one another or appear to be in open conflict. Possession-form identities often manifest as behaviors that appear as if a spirit or other supernatural being has taken control of the person.”

His chest was heaving, he was desperate for air… and for her to stop talking. Though his eyes were squeezed shut, he could feel the emotion brewing behind his lids… burning the corners of his eyes… itching to be released. He wasn’t even sure if she was still reading from that damned paper or if his desperation to stop hearing her truths was loud enough to drown her out, but he certainly could not hear her anymore.

“Dr. Stevenson…”

She tilted her head upward only a centimeter, but her eyes raised completely and her brows bent in the corners when she noticed Christopher sitting there, hyperventilating. It was the stern voice of Dr. Yates who finally shut her up and her heart rate immediately catapulted when she realized her patient was nearly on the verge of passing out.

“Christopher!” She half yelped, half gasped… because now his face was as red as the shiny polish on her fingertips.

“Dr. Stevenson, please…” Again, the melodic, firm sound of Dr. Yates voice was what planted Dr. Stevenson’s bottom in her chair, because she was well on her way to fleeing from the room to call on Richard and perhaps a few other security guards. She’d been on edge with this particular patient, ever since the failed observation therapy session that almost landed Dr. Yates in a hospital last year in December.

Dr. Stevenson cut her eyes sharply in the direction of the flat television screen and her lips pursed in an almost non-existent manner as she waited for further instruction from Dr. Yates. She sighed delicately and removed the glasses from the bridge of her nose, staring at the young man through the screen as he continued to struggle to compose himself.

“Christopher…” He tensed at the sound of her voice and held his breath completely until she diffused him, “Open your eyes.”

It was magical almost, the way she so easily delivered a polite command and his body responded before his mind could fully comprehend what she’d said. His eyes parted and blurred in an instant, because the tears were prepped and ready to fall, but just that easily… she’d soothed him into opening his eyes. Like the expert she was.

“Lift your head.”

Like a pained old man, he gradually lifted his head and eventually, his blurred vision had no choice but to lock eyes with her. She wore a smile on her gracefully aging face and when he saw it, he temporarily forgot that Dr. Stevenson was still in the room… staring at him cautiously.

“How are you feeling today?”

He went to drop his head, a natural reaction he’d inherited lately under the… circumstances. But Dr. Yates was quick to lift a question brow to accompany her smirk, catching his attention before he could confide in the back of his eye lids again.

Clearing his throat, he sniffled and sighed, not even bothering to acknowledge the tears rolling casually down his flushed cheeks “I’m… alright.”

With a sudden look of confusion, Dr. Yates tilted her head curiously and blinked a few times “You’re… alright? Are you sure?”

Nodding, he finally surrendered to the overwhelming urge to drop his head, but this time he kept his eyes open and simply watched the tears trickle into his lap.

“Well, if you are alright… are those happy tears that you’re crying?” She asked, confusion lacing her words.

Suddenly he became unnecessarily mesmerized by the tears he shed, but really he was just too ashamed to acknowledge the real reason Dr. Yates was questioning him… she knew he wasn’t alright. He constantly internally praised her for being so incredibly intelligent and vigilant, so he knew she knew… he was not alright. But he was embarrassed by that thought… embarrassed to admit that the response he’d just given her was really just a cover for the truth. He felt like a complete and utter failure. Here this woman was, reading directly from his personal file and dropping the truth on him in a way he could have never been prepared for. Dr. Stevenson always seemed a bit rough around the edges to him and she never seemed to be one to have much sympathy for a person like him… but in this case, could he really blame her? She was simply doing her job, explaining to him in detail exactly how fucked up he was.

“Chris, if you’ll just let me finish…” Dr. Stevenson began to ramble, but Dr. Yates was always one step ahead.

“Sara,” She cut her off quickly and politely, like a car in traffic with a driver kind enough to toss a hand up to acknowledge they had indeed just cut someone off, “If I may?”

Dr. Stevenson look peeved, annoyed that someone was doing her the courtesy of shutting her up and stopping her from sounding like a heartless witch. She sighed firmly through her nose, but obliged to Dr. Yates request by slowly lowering the piece of paper back onto her desk.

“Christopher… if I may?” She was asking for his permission now… permission to continue on with the dauting task of verbalizing just how much he sucked as a human being. With a quick glance up at the screen, he sniffled once more and nodded his head… okaying her to continue on with the torture.

“Now, from my observation Christopher, I’m not so sure if you are indeed ‘alright.’”

He didn’t bother to respond… didn’t even bother to raise his head in her direction again. She was about to call him on his bluff and he had no energy to deny it… he simply was not alright.

“Like most of us, you’ve got a story. And if you’re curious to hear it, from my perspective anyway… your story is quite remarkable,” That certainly got his attention and whether he desired to or not, his head lifted on its own accord and he frowned at her… because surely she was mocking him, “There was once a young boy who, due to a series of awfully unfortunate events, lived a very angry and not so happy childhood. He witnessed turmoil beyond his control… turmoil that no human, let alone a child, should ever have to witness. And often he felt compelled to step forth to take action against the turmoil… because it involved his family, his mother. He would do anything to protect her, even at such a tender age.”

“Christopher, I want you to understand something… that young boy, filled with anger and not so happy feelings, who was undeservingly stripped of his happiness and forced to endure a life style that some fully matured men have never experienced… that is your story. And sometimes, in order to protect itself… the human mind will create its own chapters in order to ensure you are able to stay on the path of your story. Your mind created its very own protection against the chaos around you, because it was all it could do to survive. Thus, your altered personality was born.”

Born. The way she spoke of it, of Kin… the way she explained him and his ‘birth’ was rather relieving to him. Somehow, she made it make sense. Because she was indeed an expert.

“This entity became a safe haven for you, but in turn… he would often wreak unnecessary havoc on those around you, because the sole purpose of his existence has always been to protect you… which allowed you, so you thought, to protect those around you. Even as a child, your alter existed namelessly. He became your strength, your courage, your ability to stand against anyone you believed to be a threat against you and your family. But then… one day… a small bundle of happiness pulled into the driveway next door. She stepped foot from that car and swarmed you with an almost foreign feeling of peace… of genuine joy. That’s a feeling that we all crave, isn’t it? Joy? But for you, that feeling had become so foreign and forgotten… the moment you recognized it for the first time in your childhood, it became addicting. Overwhelmingly so. Sy’Diyah… Hope… she charmed her way into your life by simply moving in next door and from that day on, you couldn’t get enough of her, the way she made you feel whenever in her presence, the pure love that you could identify with that seemingly only she could fill you with, the peace… oh the peace and the solace. It was truly an addiction.”

Addiction was right. His eyes shut again and this time he managed to conjure up an entire image of her perfect face, perfect skin, perfect eyes, perfect smile, perfect hair. He imagined her right there in front of him, her sweet smell wafting around him, as addicting as it was. Her stare twinkling as she smiled lovingly at him. Her bump… the baby bump, protruding directly at him to remind him of the love they shared. He missed her, incredibly so.

“Even now, as you sit and delve into the many memories and images you’ve got stored solely in her heart for her… you feel it don’t you, the peace?”

He nodded finally and sniffled hard, because he could feel the tears brewing again “Dr. Yates I… I miss her.”

“Understandably so Christopher. Please, open your eyes,” He obeyed, parting his lids to her magical charm, “You are here, in this facility, away from your loved ones and away from the one true love of your life… because you deserve to be the greatest version of you that you can be. For them, but most importantly for you. You are not to blame for the misfortunes of your childhood or for your minds natural response to the turmoil in your young life. Had your remedy, your altered personality, not been born… I am honestly not sure that you would have flourished to be the young man who sits before us today… I’m not sure that you would have survived.”

Chris had never thought of it that way. He stared at her through burning eyes thoughtfully, pondering the thought she’d just ignited in his mind. Had his altered personality not been born from his real-life chaos, would he have survived? Was he really too weak to stand on his own as a man… was Kin seriously all of his strength?

“But Dr. Yates, his file clearly discusses in detail his lifestyle before moving off to Georgia for school. It doesn’t make much sense to me that you don’t believe he would have survived in a lifestyle that he willingly chose to live.” Dr. Stevenson finally managed to find her voice after she too became deeply enthralled in the sultry sound of Dr. Yates explanation.

“Who said it was done willingly Sara? Who said any of it was done willingly? The violent habits and the entire lifestyle created solely by the alter, the excessive desire for multiple women and sex, which as you just read is a direct characteristic of the bipolar disorder… combined with the DID… these occurrences are not done willingly. Even the slightest hint of vulnerability and weakness from Christopher, and Kin has always been the direct result. I’ve examined Christopher’s case from top to bottom, inside and out. His diagnosis is simple enough, but once closely observed, more complex than I’ve ever studied. Christopher and his alter are nearly two separate beings, if not for the fact that they indeed share one physical form,” Swiftly turning to face him, she wore a grave expression that nearly startled him, “The most interesting observation during this process… your alter doesn’t even respond accordingly to your dosages. The only reason you’ve been able to avoid blacking out in your recent sessions is because of the months of intense psychotherapy that has been forcing you to focus. You see, the top priority in your case is not to necessarily treat any symptoms, because truthfully that is nearly impossible… but rather educate you in the art of focus.”

Dr. Yates was indeed correct, Chris had been on a daily regimen with the psychotherapy sessions since his last black out and truth be told, he’d been doing an outstanding job. In every way that he could, he’d been non-stop focusing. Whether lying flat on his back on the sterile cot in his room, counting the small specks decorating the tiled ceiling. Or sitting in a corner in the recreation room, tuning in only to the faint sound of the clock ticking on the opposite side of the room… even over the chaotic sounds of the other patients sharing the space with him… he always made sure to focus. And it helped, it truly did help. The tactic, surprisingly instilled by Dr. Stevenson, aided him in his quest to control his thoughts, which allowed him to keep control of his own emotions… and more importantly, it allowed him to remain in control of himself.

“And, of course, the additional dosages of Zoloft. Synced with the focusing strategy, I believe it’s been a big help…” Dr. Stevenson muttered.

“You are correct, to a certain degree,” Dr. Yates noted, “However, the medication is only used to address the depression, anxiety, and it suppresses any anger. Unfortunately, we have to remember that the alter may not always respond to it.”

Eventually, Chris noticed that his tears had completely subsided, though he was left with an aggravating afterburn along the brims of his eyes. What was really the point in crying? It was upsetting to hear such negative truths about yourself, but he mustn’t forget the focus and dedication he’d put into this entire process in the span of a few months. Several of his psychotherapy sessions had been much more intense than others, some often brewing emotions within him that he often felt as if he could not control. But, as Dr. Yates had mentioned, he had been in control because he had mastered the art of focus. In fact, he’d been so consistently focused and if he had nothing else to be proud of in this precise moment in his life, it was that small fact. It was quite a huge accomplishment for him because for the first time since he could remember, he was absolutely in control. He smiled at the thought.

Chris

I may have been crazier than I thought, I wasn’t quite sure. But I tried not to dwell on that because then I would really start to believe it and I felt like that would completely change me as a person. I didn’t want to change… I just didn’t want to deal with these illnesses anymore. But if they continued to set me up in these sessions with not only one doctor physically sitting in front of me, but one on the flat plasma screen TV right beside her as well… I would have no choice but to know that I was insane. I was pretty positive no other patient in this institution had to endure their therapy sessions quite like this, but this is what they thought it took to get through to me.

Shifting my gaze from Dr. Stevenson to Dr. Yates, who’s bright and beaming face sat perfectly aligned in the center of the flat screen television, I sighed softly and shifted awkwardly in my seat. They were both watching me curiously, waiting for me to tell them why I thought I should be released from this sterile prison. I fiddled with my fingers and looked past the flat screen and out the window on the other side of the office. In all honesty, I didn’t know why I should be released or… if I should. I mean, I felt like I was making progress… no, I was sure that I was making progress. I was putting forth a serious effort to get myself together because I did really want out of this place. But the real world… everyday life… the place right outside of the hidden barriers of this building… it scared me. Petrified might have actually been a better term. Yes… it petrified me…

“Christopher…” Dr. Yates was speaking now and the sound of her voice alone never failed to capture my attention, so without further ado I turned my head slowly to face her… or the screen that she was presented to me on, “Are you afraid to leave?”

Lord where did this woman come from? She wasn’t even technically in the same room as me, yet she sat there and read right through me like her office was located in the middle of my mind. I could feel Dr. Stevenson staring at me, just waiting for me to give her something to write in that little yellow notepad. But, as usual, I trained my vision onto Dr. Yates and readied myself to respond to her and I even kind of pretended that Dr. Stevenson wasn’t even there. She wasn’t who I wanted to talk to… she never was. I’m sure she knew it too, thus the extravagant television set up with my therapist on it.

“In a way… yes.” I muttered.

“Why? Why are you afraid to leave the institute?” Tearing my eyes away from the screen, I peered at Dr. Stevenson from the corner of my eye and refrained from frowning at her question. I hated the way she spoke to me so… so… typically. I mean, sure it was her job to ask me questions and understand the gist of me and all that jazz… but in my opinion, she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know how to be in tune with her patients like Dr. Yates… she didn’t know how to do anything like Dr. Yates.

“I just am.” I turned to look back out of the window and decided at that moment that I would no longer be addressing that woman. This was a session between Dr. Yates and I and she… she was just filling space in the room.

“You’ll be leaving on a fresh slate… and you know that, you’re okay with that… aren’t you? The fear here… lies in the prospect that your fresh slate will be tainted by the horrors of the outside world… please, shut me up at any time and tell me that I’m wrong Christopher… you know not to be afraid to correct me.” She said, laughter mixed softly in her last statement. Smiling to myself, I slowly shook my head to not only indicate to her that I would not stop her because she was not wrong… but also because I could almost feel Dr. Stevenson tensing in her seat. In reality, she sucked and the more Dr. Yates took over these sessions with me virtually, I’m sure she was beginning to understand that more and more.

“So essentially, you’re not afraid to leave… you are afraid to come back.” Dr. Yates finished her observation and I glanced from her to the other occupant of the room, because at this time I didn’t feel as though she deserved the title of doctor, and nodded my head. “I just… I don’t wanna mess up again.”

They were both writing, jotting down whatever it was that they concluded from what I’d said. I could never understand the purpose of the notebooks and I never much cared for them. I was focused on the hand across the table from me writing quickly like I’d just said a mouthful and almost didn’t hear Dr. Yates speaking through the television.

“Would you mind, Dr. Stevenson, if I had just a moment of time with Christopher?” She asked. Her question surprised us both and while I sat still in my seat with raised brows, Dr. Stevenson turned to face the TV before glancing back over her shoulder at me and smiling tightly.

“Sure… take your time.” She didn’t even bother to look back at Dr. Yates. She simply rose swiftly from her seat and glided quickly out of the room. My eyes remained glued to the shut door for a moment as I absorbed what’d just happened… she was in her feelings, because a woman miles away from us just gave her the boot from her own office. I almost snickered aloud, but Dr. Yates cleared her throat and got my attention before I could.

“Christopher…”

“Yes ma’am?”

“No formalities now,” She chuckled, “How have you really been?”

“I’ve been good… better. How have you been?” I smiled.

She smiled in return “Why haven’t I thought to excuse that woman long ago?”

We both laughed, but softly because I really didn’t know how far Dr. Stevenson had ventured away from the door.

“I have been very well, thank you for asking. I haven’t had a successful opportunity to speak to you one on one since your very last session here at the school with me. I wanted to pick your brain a little off record, if you don’t mind.”

“No… I don’t.” She sat there smiling for a while in her signature pose with her hands crossed onto the surface of her desk. It didn’t really look like she even had the notebook in front of her anymore and for that, I was thankful. She really was only interested in having a completely off the record conversation with me… and in a way, I was kind of excited about that.

“I’m sorry that I could not actually be there with you, but you seem to be doing exceptionally well. Communicating comfortably and more frequently… that is phenomenal.”

“I guess.”

“You guess…”

“I don’t really like it here… the people.” I explained slowly.

“It’s not a comfort zone for you. That’s understandable. But you are doing wonderfully during your time with Dr. Stevenson. I must commend you there.” She beamed.

“Thank you.” I smirked.

There was a moment of silence that left me with my head down, unable to face her piercing stare, and I thought maybe she was waiting for me to speak again… so I did.

“Dr. Yates… I-I never got to apologize to you for what happened when you were here…”

“I cannot accept that apology.”

Quickly raising my head, I eyed her with furrowed brows and opened my mouth to speak, but… no words came out. What? Did she really just say that?

“You cannot apologize for something completely out of your control. What happened that day in our therapy session… that was something that you could not prevent, even if you tried. I don’t want you to feel remorseful in any way for actions that were not yours.”

I felt myself nodding as she spoke and though she was right, I couldn’t ignore the regret for what I did that day… but it did also feel a bit strange apologizing on behalf of that other side of me. I didn’t even know what’d happened… until they forced me to watch the footage. And as I sat there staring at the gray image of myself stalking around the room at her, eventually corning her and threatening her in a way that made my stomach churn, I knew I had to offer her an apology as soon as I got the opportunity to.

“I wanted to give you an update, about Hope.”

All the sadness and memories of that last therapy session with Dr. Yates went right out the window the moment I heard that name. Hope… my Hope… my heart.

“What’s wrong with her?” I blurted.

She laughed softly and shook her head as she watched me visibly flinch in my seat, nerves clearly on end “Nothing at all. She’s doing wonderfully… very focused on her studies now. Perhaps a bit too focused, but she’s doing well non-the-less.”

“That’s good…” My voice drifted off for a moment as I thought briefly about her face. Her beautiful face and her pink and always pouted lips and her cute baby hairs that wisped with even the slightest wind and her wild mane of hair that cascaded all over her head like a golden waterfall…

“She’s about eighteen weeks along… and she glows like a ray of sunshine every time I see her.” My heart sank… I hadn’t expected her to discuss the pregnancy. As I said before, I knew she knew that Hope was pregnant, but I guess I completely forgot that she was there with her and I was not and there was a high possibility that they were still in contact in my absence.

“How is the baby? Does she even know what she’s… we… does she know what we’re having?” I didn’t even know I was capable of speaking this fast again because everything I did in life now seemed to be done leisurely.

Dr. Yates seemed to catch onto that because I caught the smile on her face that almost looked like a proud mother watching her child take its first steps.

“The baby is fine… and healthy. She does not know the sex… because she prefers to wait for you to find out.” That right there… those words right there, lit me up from the inside out. I felt like the sun itself would consume my entire body and beam right through my chest. She wanted to wait for me to find out what the gender of our baby was… she wanted to wait for me for something in life period? That made me feel like… the proudest man on earth. It made me feel like standing up and running through the rest of this treatment program so I could get the hell out and run all the way to Georgia to her. She was waiting for me… she was still thinking of me… she hadn’t left me behind.

“Christopher,” Her voice snapped me out of my frantic and joyous thoughts and I blinked rapidly as I turned my attention to her, “My goal here is to help you. You being in this institution will not benefit you… you being out there, in the real world, with your loved ones will.”

The rapid blinking stopped abruptly and I damn near stopped blinking altogether as my heart began to race while I waited almost impatiently for her to go on.

“There is a deal in the works at this time and nothing has been finalized, but… I am working very frivolously to have you released into the care of your mother. There is an entire case pending and I’ve been preparing all things necessary to present to the board of the institute to prove that home treatment would better suit you.”

My eyes shut while she continued to speak. I’m not even sure what she was talking about, something to do with this case that was pending against me, but the only thing my mind could focus on was what she’d said about me being released. I had to repeat a mantra in my head… don’t get your hopes up… don’t get your hopes up… only for these people to let you right back down. But I would simply be lying if I said my heart didn’t flutter with anticipation.

“I cannot make any promises, but I can guarantee you that if you do your part… if you continue to excel in your sessions and you continue to maintain your cooperation with Dr. Stevenson and with whatever regulations they implement for you… I will do everything in my power to get you home.”

Mentally I tattooed those words on my brain and held onto them dearly… there was no doubt in my mind that I would hold up my end of that deal no matter what.

#chrisbrown #chrisbrownff #chrisbrownfanfic #jasminesanders #chrisbrownfanfiction #jasminesandersff #teambreezy #teambreezyff #fanfiction #fanfic

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prfandoessentai · 3 years

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Himitsu Sentai Gorenger

Finished Gorenger today. It strikes me how many parallels I’m seeing between it and MMPR as a series, purely from a production standpoint. In watching this, it felt, as is the well-documented case with MMPR, that the production staff knew exactly what they were making, but had no idea how much of a legacy it would create, with now 45 seasons of Sentai and 28 of Rangers at the time of writing this. Both shows had way too many episodes, because, while I passively enjoyed Gorenger, staying actively interested was very difficult, and getting through the series as a whole turned out to be a slog. Despite this, both shows have standout episodes, MMPR has one truly good episode (The Potion Notion), and Gorenger has several, though I couldn’t name them off the top of my head. The one where Kaijo goes missing and the other rangers discover him undercover later was a banger, as was the one where Asuka gets framed for a bunch of murders. The pilots of both shows have super manic energy and kind of just shove the viewer into everything without any warning or mercy, but have some really memorable moments, namely the rangers walking up to discover Shinmei in a white cowboy suit complete with hat and white guitar, leaning on the doorway outside the command room without any explanation for him already being there, revealing that the flamenco guitar was diegetic the whole time. Good time. I came. Shinmei does it for me, and that helped a lot with the less interesting episodes. I was happy whenever the screen featured an unmorphed Shinmei. All that being said, despite the extended series length, both series feature a cast of characters that don’t really have much character, aside from Daita and Billy. I love the original rangers, I love the four replacements, and I have conflicting feelings on Tommy, but a whole lot of the goodwill in those cases comes from the work of Ryan Parrot’s comics runs, and the wonderful commentary of the Ranger Danger Podcast (great comics by the way, and great podcast as well, I’m likely going to bring them up a lot, they are best boys). As a viewer I kept seeing opportunities for interesting character dynamics pop up and be squandered, which was disappointing. I don’t expect better from Power Rangers, it’s garbage and I know it’s garbage no matter how much I love it. I was honestly hoping for a bit more depth here. Daigoro fucking dies and they never mention it again after the episode. Oh and speaking of that episode, I didn’t give a fuck. He died and I didn’t really care, because the show didn’t really care. I didn’t actively dislike him or anything, it just had no weight to it, although the dying words “Next time I won’t be so careless” is a damn good line. I will say, however, minutes later, seeing Daita get out of the tank and say “Hey buds, need a hand?” made me tear up a little. I have a deep affection for the golden retriever archetype, and Daita is absolutely one of those very good boys. That’s pretty much the end of the parallels, at least of the ones I can remember, other than the obvious “Yellow Ranger actor tragically dies relatively soon after the end of the series” one but that’s not something I’m really qualified to talk about at all. Anyway, just going to sum up some things and call it a night. The movie was fine, and other than a noticeable shift in video quality, it was basically just a regular episode, though I don’t know to what extent that was the intent. I should say I know absolutely nothing about Japan or the culture therein. I’ve seen a small amount of anime, mainly pretty normie shit, although I saw and loved Baccano! which I’ve been led to believe is pretty niche. That’s all beside the point. The Gorenger suits were solid suits: distinguished, but clearly belonging to a team. Perfectly fine theme song, I think that’s really the one singular thing Power Rangers as a show does consistently better than Sentai, with some notable exceptions in later seasons. I’ll say now, I’ve heard all the sentai themes, I watched 45 minute compilation, and for the most part they’re all adequate. But holy shit Timeranger what the fuck happened there. They went so hard and I love it. There is so much theory in there, but I’m going to get to that in probably like two years when I get to Timeranger because holy shit there is so much sentai. Anyway this is way too long, but this should hopefully be the longest one. All other season reviews will have a season’s worth of posts to flesh out my thoughts so I won’t feel the need to be this extensive. I enjoyed this season well enough, but I’ll probably never watch it again.

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blandwriting · 3 years

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It's been a long pause, where have I been? Mostly procrastinating at knowing how to be a functioning adult. Despite my flaws, characteristically I'm still very much the same. Major Depressive Disorder, a term to prescribe me antidepressants at a low yet effective amount to keep my anxiety at bay. Effexor XR, Side effects include loss of appetite, drowsiness, blurred vision, fatigue, dry mouth, nausea, sweaty palms, leg tremors, insomnia; I guess the cure and the ailment are one in the same. I'm functioning now at a rate where I feel almost numb enough to feel sufficed by my less than mediocre existence. Thirty years old, greying hair and pubes, a long list of non established idea's that never got off the ground. Financial freedom.... We just reinstated a credit card due to the pandemic taking away our wage and making us less than satisfactory to pay for our fancy Meriton apartment in Mascot. Paces ahead but still trailing behind. I always find myself romanticising life.... Looking for the hidden posies in the mess. No wonder my outlook had degraded to catatonic self destructive seeking missile. I was hit by a car and rolled up onto the dash.... fell to the ground miraculously leaving unscathed only bruised and badly shaken... although the longing for greater injuries if not death was the only thing I could fixate on. Why was I so depressed... why was I so unnerved at my miraculous and somewhat outstanding ability to survive a car driving directly into my right leg without so much as even breaking a bone? I flew over the top of the bonnet and rolled down onto the wet and unforgiving bitumen with nothing more than a manic episode. It opened up a huge sinkhole.... the medication was the only thing stopping me from taking my own life. I cared for nothing. I've had a lot of sobering moments in my short by well worn life. But sitting across from my doctor with tear stained cheeks, quivering bottom lip and shaking hands, I'd spent the last three days just scream crying every moment I had left with my swelling thoughts of self harm and suicide. I simply no longer wished to live.... My doctor worried expression painted across her face sat there and listened to me, as my emotions heightened and I cried out that I was fine... everyone said I was fine... so if I'm fine then why do I no longer want to live... Something has to change... I'm exhausted.... I simply no longer wish to exist, I am meaningless and broken I'm discarded and used, People whom only benefit from myself keep me around I am not loved, I never had been unconditionally loved. She sat there mouth agape... "Krystal..." I looked up to her, With what I can only imagine would have been one of the most pained looks I've ever given another person... " You're not going to kill yourself are you?..." she said furrowing her brows at me with a downturned expression, I looked to the right with my lips pressed into a straight line, rubbing the edge of my thumb nails to the underside of my thumbs, swapping them back and forth, as I looked to my left avoiding eye contact but ruminating on how I felt... softly I let out " I don't know anymore". She reached her hand across the table and asked for my left arm as my right was rendered useless by the bruising. I handed her my hand, hers warm the warmest hand I've felt in a long time, " If you kill yourself Krystal I'll be very angry with you, It will hurt everyone you love, You make me laugh everytime you come in, there are so many other choices".

In that moment I looked at her, I knew I couldn't do it, I'd been held accountable. My heart swollen she wrote me a prescription and I'd left that office with a follow up appointment booked, before I walked out of her room I asked her for a hug, In that moment I felt loved, truly loved with an unbiased heart, She literally didn't have to at all, but I just so needed a hug without answers without question, I just needed that in that moment. To feel loved.

This is the thing, loved. A feeling every human being on the face of the planet longs for a feeling of complete and total acceptance. That is all I've ever been looking for, to feel accepted. I grew up in an unconventional yet familiar family story, My mother freshly 18 two weeks out of the legal boom gates, and my Father turned 22 an hour and fourteen minutes after I was born, It was the typical Australian 1991 period, Still heavily influenced by Christianity, My mum was placed in a separate wing from the other mothers who were Married or accounted for, She and dad were on-again off-again young lovers with a fiery relationship built on jealousy drama and pure attraction, I came into the world on a Monday, it was Mercury retrograde, need I say more. Mum didn't have a lot of money or a stable household at that time, she was living in-between homes, Momentarily we lived in the garage out the back of her mothers house, a red back spider infested ex photography studio and teenager hangout spot, They had a tumultuous relationship themselves, That's the difficulty with family scars, My father from memory lived in a share house with friends, he and his parent's also from a not so forgiving background, both of my parents were dragged up I wouldn't really say either had the golden childhood either of them really deserved, two seperate sides of two different coins, but both resulting in the universal fate of their meeting and my existence. It wasn't long and without shock before my parent's broke up. My dad wasn't ready for fatherhood, he was still drinking and fighting and doing whatever he wanted to do, and mum a young mother had taken on the role of responsibility with a bit more of a stiff upper lip, Rightfully so. He and she were again on and off again for the most of my formidable years, I remember my mum writing notes on a phone pad, back when corded phones were a thing and you were stuck in one place, She'd write his name with hearts and little doodles, I also remember her agonising cries when they'd broken up. It wasn't unusual for Mum to drop me at dad's and for he to leave me with his latest fling and I'd give them hell while he went out stalking down Mum wherever she was. I remember the arguments and my dad's alcohol induced rages towards mum. He showing up to our cottage at random hours banging on the doors and window's to be let in, I remember being dragged out of bed at 2-3-4 am to be placed in a cold Torana to drive around because he was in a violent frenzy smashing every valuable mum had collected on her very small wage she was earning working at a pub to support us, to give me all she could. He'd come in and ruin everything, our tables our chairs the television he'd smash her beds up throw the kitchen around smash the dining tables and chairs, a violent and unstoppable force, and then just like a hurricane he would dissipate and we would rebuild; I don't know how my mother did it, that man didn't even pay the child support he was owing, how do I know this as an adult I went into my centrelink history and saw all of the unpaid arrears.... funny that.

Due to my home life being so far from average or normal I really focused on my imagination, I was plagued with nightmares and an extreme amount of anxiety.... But we didn't really know or talk about mental health in children back then... So I just played with our cats and dogs, singing on the swing alone or annoying our Landlord who owned a sign writing shop out the front, I'd collect snails or grab my dog and escape to the hair salon out on the main road our cottage was behind. The creativity really appealed to me, it gave me an escape from an otherwise crippling existence even for a small child, I was so loved and my mum did everything she could to prove that so, but I just felt so conditional.... I think even as a small child below the age of five I knew that my mothers life would be different if I didn't exist... At school there were rumours around about my family so obviously the children were biased based upon their parents opinions even as early as preschool mum and I faced adversity... I was an outcast from a poor family going to a Lutheran preschool in an affluent area, my mum showing up in a Commodore to drop me off, young and beautiful, I found it difficult to make friends, although I had one best friend but she ended out going to the adjoining Primary school and I were to be moved to the state school three doors down from our cottage.

When I started at my primary school there was 27 students from year 1 to year 7, there were Three educators, Miss S was year 1 - 3, Mrs B was mathematics and science and the Principal Mr F educated year 4-7. I'd made some friends but I was a little off-beat and bossy and a real stickler for the rules so I was always telling on everyone, I wasn't overly athletic or smart, I was more interested in writing or talking or reading than really doing any actual school work. I remember vividly being in trouble for talking while we were doing maths which I still very much struggle with today.... But I ended out being put in time out and I sat there and thought I'd counted to a thousand... because I was entirely bored.... Miss S walked past and I told her " Miss S I counted to a thousand". She looked down at me and said " No you didn't, You silly girl you don't know how to... now be quiet". I'm still cut about that... Mole.

There were many times in those years I was subjected to questionable people and activities many in which I know for sure, No child of mine is ever having sleepovers at their friends houses.... and I mean it. I was socially under developed and preferred the company of adults to children... I didn't fit in with kids my age and the ones I was socialised with were little sicko's with weird parents...

Surprisingly my parent's got back together when I was around age 7 or 8... My dad was working overseas and for some reason mum and he decided to get married by this point my mum had my first younger brother and She and Dad got married...... even that day was a flop for my poor Mum... he ended out going on a four day drinking binge with his friends and mum was left to clean up the mess of the wedding after party and retire home alone. Romantic right?.... I love and adore each one of my four younger brothers and I am so thankful for their existence they’re all individually wonderful and loving and kind i just find it difficult to sometimes sit there and think about how different my mum’s life could have been... had none of us existed.... although I am grateful sometimes for existence I just wish that my dad had dealt with his demons and maybe had gotten some help, flash forward a few years and dad ended up in rehab for six weeks during that time he’d seen mental health professionals but nothing came from it... he just decided to not take his Zoloft because “he hates feeling happy” He for some reason needs aggression which for me is something I just cannot simply understand, now as an adult I recognise my parents have their own issues their own histories and past just as we all do, but it’s one of those things where when I was younger and learning about the world my perception wasn’t of that but only of a lack of unconditional love, now as an adult I’ll do upmost anything to prevent being like my father, so when offered the help I took it... there weren’t other options in that moment for me to be functioning... I just hope I made the right choice.

As a teenager I experienced the usual laziness, my household was filled with children and crying and new borns the precession of another brother came closely after the first was born and mum was dealing with a “hyperactive” toddler and a newborn and myself now a pre-teen.... I’d moved school’s by this point but realistically speaking and I’ll cut it fairly short, I never really fit in with anyone or anything.... Without being academically gifted or Athletically gifted... my value wasn’t highly ranked... I spent most of my lunch breaks playing Chinese checkers in the library or reading books, I loved books and Encyclopedia’s, hyper-fixating on certain topics and being drawn to the mystics and paranormal.. I would spend hours pouring over pages within books my Aunties had gifted me for Birthday’s or Christmas’s. I feel like my time filled within that school was also darkened by my own inability to behave like a “normal person” I don’t know if at the age of ten I was acutely aware at all about my inability to fit in... all i know is getting choked out at lunch time and ran away from wasn’t the best...

I’ll continue the story later.

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suiciderealestate · 5 years

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Where does my mental illness end and my sense of self begin? I have known something is amiss with my mind for a long time and I have called my affliction by many names. But now in its newest iteration it is shifting slowly from Major Depression to Bipolar Depression, or, maybe more inclusively, Majorly Bipolar Depression. With the exception of vitamin assistance, I have been unmedicated for a few years. The last time I took medication it was Wellbutrin, which made me more manic than I have ever been in my life. At half of the prescribed dosage, I was throwing McChicken’s at my mother’s head, hiding in bushes at 24 years old, planning my self-managed exodus from Nashville to Los Angeles, and getting my license to serve alcohol — I passed the test with flying colors. When I consulted my GP about the mania resultant of my medication, she told me I might be bipolar. I have and had bipolar friends, and though they say birds of a feather flock together, I didn’t feel my symptoms matched the bipolar symptoms exhibited by some of my companions. Their mania was unmedicated. My mania was medicated. Clearly there was a difference. But I’ve since learned that there are two different kinds of bipolar. As my bipolar friend Meredith would say: You’re either Amanda Bynes bipolar (Bipolar 1) or Catherine Zeta-Jones bipolar (Bipolar 2 - Bipolar Depression). Amanda Bynes has since publicly stated that her erratic behavior from 2012 to 2016 wasn’t the result of a mental illness but the result of substance abuse and all the problems that come with it. But, as I’ve found, once a sicko always a sicko. And so while she may currently be in an upswing in her cycle from stability to chaos, it pains me to say that her future holds all the inevitability of her past. That’s just the way it is for people like us. We can stage a return. We can find success. But in reality we only ever really learn how to shove the thought patterns that haunt us under the carpet, close the curtains and muffle out the noise. But the noise never goes away. It’s always there. Whether the buzzing of your mind be plaintive or strident, the buzzing persists and it never goes away.

Today I called my mother to go down the usual lists of complaints: nobody loves me, my hair is falling out, and my body is a prison that makes my life a kind of perpetual Chinese water torture of the soul. A pragmatic, sensible woman, my mother rarely knows what to say. She doesn’t know how to give me advice on topics pertaining to romance because of my homosexual lifestyle; she doesn’t know how to talk to me about my emotional struggles because she has never had a history with mental illness (neither has my father, who is in many ways the same as her); and she doesn’t understand me when I ask her for help. At best, she says, she can let me move back into a home in Nashville with no rent other than the constant tax of corrosive misunderstanding. The comfort of my home in Tennessee is a tomb perfectly prepared for me to waste the rest of my days away in anticipation of my approaching demise. But I know that I have been dying for some time now. Decomposition comes in varying stages, and in this particular manifestation the rot has started first with my mind and will then work its way outward. It is not an uncommon way to go, and in my extended family there is a history of dementia. Dementia took the mind of my next-door neighbor Dan, a former engineering professor at Vanderbilt University who struggled to remember his loved ones or even who he was in the last years of his life. It took the mind of my paternal grandmother in her last days and rendered her final bouts of consciousness a public fever dream on perfect display for my family to see. I only heard whispers of it, being that I was young at the time of her death, but I remember visiting her in the nursing home and then the hospital, and I remember the smell of sterility and decay that lived easily alongside one another. I remember the first time I saw a dead body, one that belonged to a man who was only ever called “Uncle Ronnie” and who I had never actually met. To meet someone only after they are basted with formaldehyde is a curious thing. When I saw his pale corpse in the open casket, a corpse whose lifeless pallor, resistant to every cosmetic effort, must have startled other attendees at the wake, I felt nothing. I learned that even dead bodies are held to a standard of perfection, and even dead bodies often fail to meet those standards.

Even today I often think of Uncle Ronnie. I still remember his face, his black hair, his delicate features. I remember that all I’ve ever known of him is death. For me, that is his legacy: that he died and that of all seven billion people upon the face of the Earth, his corpse was the first I ever witnessed. For my mother, bipolar disorder seems to be a kind of little death. She once had a good friend named Jill. Jill was bipolar. She forged checks and stole from her employers. She used to babysit me once upon a time, and when I was only four years old she would let me watch graphic movies like “Alien,” in which aliens can only give birth by planting their seed in the body of a living being. When the alien finally gestates and is ready to be born, it simply bursts from the host’s body and leaves them to die in a mess of blood and fleshy pulp. I remember watching the cartoon “Ren and Stimpy,” and it was at that point in my life that I learned the aesthetic potential of the grotesque and macabre. I forsook companionship with children my age for others who were three to five years older than me. Even they said I was “warped,” because my knowledge of sex, profanity and vulgarity was more advanced than anything they had known at my age. I was exposed to cigarettes early, alcohol early, everything just a tad earlier. I learned most of what I knew from other children at St. Henry’s School, a place my parents had desperately tried to get me admitted to. It took a little coaxing from a family relative, but after much reluctance I was admitted. Even at a young age, I wasn’t looked upon as a genius or even as someone with average potential. My great aunt Emily had to harass a priest at St. Henry until they decided to give me the formality of an admissions test. And once I proved lackluster at that, she had to harass him some more. Little did my parents know, I would be reared in a den of charlatans. And though my mother constantly reminds me that she didn’t raise me to exhibit the behaviors I am prone to, she unwittingly unleashed me into a realm of the most expensive sin money can buy.

For much of my early exposure I have Jill to thank. But Jill has cemented in my mother’s mind a stigmatized perception of people with bipolar disorder. God forbid her son should have a variation of it, so even now she is in denial. When I told her over the phone today that I believe I have bipolar 2, she said, in desperation, “But you don’t have any of the symptoms!” The symptoms, according to the most direct Google search, are as follows: 1) mood swings, sadness, elevated mood, anger, anxiety, apathy, apprehension, euphoria, general discontent, guilt, hopelessness, loss of interest, or loss of interest or pleasure in activities; 2) irritability, risk taking behaviors, disorganized behavior, aggression, agitation, crying, excess desire for sex, hyperactivity, impulsivity, restlessness, or self-harm; 3) unwanted thoughts, delusion, lack of concentration, racing thoughts, slowness in activity, or false belief of superiority; 4) depression, manic episode, agitated depression, or paranoia; 5) difficulty falling asleep or excess sleepiness; 6) weight gain or weight loss; and 7) fatigue or rapid and frenzied speaking.

Looking at all of these symptoms, I can’t help but think that all of this is simply innate to the human condition. But at the end of the day, I can only speak to my human condition. In this lifetime, I can speak to no one else’s. And yet, to feel that there is some possibility of error in my cognitive makeup, that I am broken with little hope of drugless repair, is to know that there is a part of me that will always be lacking. Today I told my mother that in the last two months I stole merchandise worth thousands of dollars during my seasonal employment at Bloomingdales. More troubling still is that every time I stole from Bloomingdales I was in a good mood. With this condition it just goes to show that both highs and lows are dangerous. If I’m in a bad mood I might kill myself, and if I’m in a good mood I might happily commit several felonies. You really never know.

When I reported all of this information to my mother in demonstration of the fact that perhaps I do embody the erratic behavior she associates with bipolar disorder, she insisted on getting off the phone. She made me promise I would never steal again, which I obliged to with fingers crossed, and then she hung up. It’s not that I want to steal again. It’s just that I can’t make promises I know I can’t keep. For my mother, bipolar disorder is not unlike a prison sentence or a death sentence. Jill disappeared, and we never saw her again. We didn’t hear from her. We didn’t hear about her. She just vanished. Sometimes I wish I could do the same. I wish I could just disappear from everyone’s life over and over again, constantly remaking myself until I finally crash and burn. But these days, with social media and all the rest, it just isn’t that easy. We are bound to who we are, until we aren’t. I hope my family can salvage some sense of understanding until that day comes. I know it’s a lot to ask. I hardly understand myself.

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