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spiteful-crow · 4 months

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Ok, but what if

Jon is NOT gone.

I described in length here why I don't think Jon reintegrated into Sherlock's psyche at the end of Chapter One and how I think he is just gone.

However, there is an additional theory I have and I would like to talk about. So what if Jon is gone but not GONE gone?

This rambling is based on overthinking every line in these games, so keep that in mind as you continue reading. Also, I'm likely coping very hard here because I love Jon with all my heart.

First and foremost, I will treat Jon as a sentient being here. I imagine Sherlock and Jon like two flowers planted in one pot. Jon is a personification of Sherlock's love for life and himself; still, Jon is portrayed as having a consciousness. He not only has his own opinions and personality, he also has feelings. E.g. he describes the feeling of being ignored by Sherlock as a "punch in the gut ", he experiences anxiety when forced to face the nature of his existence, etc.

To explain why I don't think Jon vanished completely, I will start by explaining how I read the events of Chapter One from Jon's perspective.

Sherlock created Jon because he was lonely; he wanted to be happy and loved, so he placed his own self-love into Jon and made him his biggest fan and a neverending source of motivation to pursue the more fun parts of life. Jon provided a certain balance in Sherlock's life and also acted as his moral compass. However, Jon struggled with the nature of his existence from the very beginning. The memory at the theatre shows him being distraught by the audience's inability to see him. He refuses to keep this memory; even when he and Sherlock recall it ten years later, he never addresses it in his diary. He jokes about how excellent his performance was, but he is in denial that it ever happened the way it happened. The memories hurt Jon, who feels like a real person but never gets to live as one. The only thing in Jon's life that affirms that he exists at all is Sherlock, and it's a great source of anxiety to depend on someone so completely.

During Chapter One, we witness the impact Sherlock's memories have on Jon. He asks Sherlock twice to let it go because the memories hurt him, and they hurt him because he exists to love and protect Sherlock. Therefore, Jon's whole purpose is threatened if Sherlock refuses to be protected by him; in a way, if Sherlock chooses to remember and, therefore, be hurt, he rejects everything Jon stands for, everything he was created for.

And yes, I'm convinced Jon mostly cares for Sherlock's well-being, but he isn't entirely selfless either. There isn't a conscious being that can be entirely selfless. He is in the unique position in which every single action of another person is directly tied to him and affects him. Every time Sherlock chooses not to listen to him, his role in Sherlock's life becomes more and more unsteady, which terrifies him. They can't be close and united if they don't share the same values. I think the worst thing that could happen to Jon is to end up being irrelevant and ignored by Sherlock, but being forced to continue existing regardless.

Now, I will just post this journal entry, which Jon writes if Sherlock ends up killing someone.

This is how this reads to me: Jon can't bear watching Sherlock become a murderer, but he is not only concerned for Sherlock; he also doesn't want to feel the pain of watching Sherlock change like this. He doesn't want Sherlock to alienate himself from him. This is what I mean when I say that Jon is not selfless. He doesn't want Sherlock to be hurt, but he doesn't want to hurt either. Another thing I see here is him posing the question if the has a choice, and at least at this point, we can conclude that the answer is no. This is an important point for this post.

Now, I will come to the end of the game. After Sherlock enters the garden and begins regaining his memories, we have yet another scene of Jon begging Sherlock to talk to him and saying he is scared.

I think this shows pretty well how anxious he is about becoming irrelevant or even invisible to Sherlock. The end scene in the garden is everything Jon fears slowly coming true. And it doesn't end there. No, it culminates with Sherlock denying to acknowledge Jon as a person.

And this, in my opinion, is the moment Jon knew he wants to disappear. He barely interacts with Sherry after this, except for asking why Mycroft is there after Mycroft poses the question if "Jon is worth it". We still don't know what Mycroft means, but it's implied he thinks Jon isn't worth "it", which is kinda rubbing more salt into Jon's wound haha :'). Hell, Jon doesn't even intervene in the scene where Sherlock pulls a gun on his brother, he stays on the bench.

As I said in my previous post, I see all four endings as bitter. Even in the two endings in which you blame Otto, the last interaction between Sherlock and Jon lacks the usual warmth between them. I think it's because Jon is quite bitter himself. He is hurting a lot. He tries to reminisce about their times together and says his life hasn't been wholly in vain, but he is just done with it at this point. He is leaving, but not only for Sherlock's sake; he is leaving because he can't bear the pain of staying with Sherlock after being called a lie by him, especially because Sherlock hates lies. Jon has protected Sherlock for years, but Sherlock thinks it was wrong, and Jon's whole purpose is put into question. Sherlock has always been the only person to believe in Jon, and from Jon's perspective, he no longer does.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think he leaves out of spite. I simply think he'd rather vanish than feel obsolete.

I think this post is getting rather long, so I will just get to the point. Why do I think Jon is not GONE gone? Because he implied he has no choice than to witness what's happening to Sherlock, no matter how much it hurts him. And because Sherlock keeps addressing him during The Awakened in a way that suggests, that he still might be somewhere.

Yes, Sherlock misses Jon and he is desperate, so him talking to Jon shouldn't mean much in this regard, but still, Sherlock doesn't seem to believe that Jon is gone.

He seems to believe that Jon is still watching him from somewhere (from Heaven? Why are you looking at the ceiling, Sherry?) and is fully able to make an appearance and "intervene" if he wants to. Of course, Sherlock doesn't know everything, but honestly, I agree with him. Because why would Jon have the ability to erase himself from existence? If he could simply erase things, he would have likely erased Sherlock's memories of Violet's death. However, he has the ability to conceal things, like memories, so it's not unlikely that he can conceal himself too.

I think Jon is still somewhere deep inside Sherlock's mind. We already know he can disappear whenever something makes him uncomfortable (like Dilwyn), so I'd like to think that he disappeared in the same way during the ending too. I think he is dormant right now. And he is hurt. But he is there. I don't think Jon can die unless Sherlock dies.

#sherlock holmes chapter one #sherlock holmes the awakened #ramblings #i need to be told to shut up lmao

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stickthisbig · 2 years

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So I forgot I wrote a whole post about taking ketamine and never posted it? TW for discussion of depression, mostly legal drug use. TL;DR: I took a bunch of ketamine, AMA

Starting in... March? of 2022, I did a course of ketamine assisted therapy (KAT)! Ketamine for pain has been used for a while, but I took it for treatment-resistant depression. It’s a newish kind of therapy, and from my learnings it’s primarily used in the US.

The whole idea with KAT is that you take ketamine as a cotherapy with psychiatric drugs and counseling. Ketamine stimulates the growth of neurotransmitters; when you're depressed, your brain activity decreases, and ketamine therapy bumps it back up. This means that the uptake of your standard medications increases, so they work better. (There are multiple sources about this available, I’m not linking to one in particular because I don’t know enough about the literature to pick a 100% trustworthy one.)

Which all sounded like bullshit at the beginning, but I was so depressed I wanted to hamburger time. KAT is for people for whom multiple traditional therapies in a row have failed, especially ones who have both depression/bipolar disorder and anxiety. It kind of has a perfect audience, because to even be offered it, you have to be a person who believes in psychiatric medicine even if it hasn't worked, and also has nothing to live for. By the time it was offered I was like "well hell yeah, let's get high, what's the worst that can happen?"

It's worth stating that KAT is increasingly used as an alternative to ECT, and though it has an acute effect, a full course takes several months. So it's not for people who are actively on the ledge, but people who, as Dorothy Parker put it, might as well live.

So you go into a room at the doctor's office and get high! The kind of drug used is, here in this part of the US, produced by a compounding pharmacy in a nasal suspension (ketamine for pain or tranquilizer is usually injected or distributed orally). My doctor's office prides itself on maximizing the effects by providing a safe, comfortable, less sterile atmosphere; some doctors treat it more clinically. My course was 7 treatments (one a week x 4 weeks, two a month x 1 month, once a month x 1 month), but some people do more or less.

And then, idk man, you just sit there and are high for about 2 hours. The effects peak at 40 minutes, then the rest is comedown. You have heard of a k-hole, where you take too much and disassociate from your body? It’s considered a negative effect when used as a party drug, but for KAT, you are actively supposed to go into a k-hole. The stages it followed for me were

I ain't getting high on this at all, this was a waste of money

I Have A Great Idea, Nay, The Greatest

The K-Hole

Sleeping it off

It's hard to describe what a k-hole is like? It's not like detachment, or the losing track of yourself mentally you get with some disorders. I literally felt myself leave my physical body, which existed as an outline or a void, like my essence had been carved out with a knife and left a hole in reality, like my consciousness was attached by flimsy tethers or nothing at all.

It was wild.

But Sabine! Surely you've done a ton of other drugs! You can hang!

Actually, I've only done a little bit of pot (and loads of alcohol). I've accidentally hallucinated a handful of times on legal drugs or due to high fever, and I h a t e d it. I always experienced that as there being an illusory world that I couldn’t escape from. From my point of view during KAT, what I was experiencing on ketamine wasn't real but also wasn't a hallucination?? I wasn't in an illusory world, but this one, where weird shit was happening but authentically, as part of the real world.

I suspect it has to do with the fact I previously hallucinated as a side effect of drugs that aren't actually hallucinogenic, and I knew even in the hallucination it wasn't supposed to be happening? You might find ketamine very scary if you didn't know it caused disassociation. Idk.

And the results!

What it's done for me is let me feel my own feelings. I've had mostly good days since, because my depression doesn't compel me to feel sad for no reason. I've been super feisty this week, but I feel angry because I need to get a new job; I feel righteous in this anger but not compelled to feel it. I have enough wherewithal to unpick it and say, "I feel this because I am frustrated, my boss is less supportive than I need, therapy has been bringing up a lot of hard shit that I'm still unpacking."

And that's what I want! So many people with psychiatric disorders will tell you about that one drug they took that was some We Happy Few shit and stopped them from having the capacity to be sad. I don't want that; I want the highs and the lows, but both of them at a reasonable level.

So for side effects, really the only ones are in the first few days after. It makes me extremely quiet and in my head for a while. It also makes me stumble over my words for a few days. That eventually went away, and a month out from the last dose, I haven't noticed any side effects at all. The two things that suck about it are that insurance doesn't cover it and that for 24 hours afterwards, you're not legally allowed (at least in this state) to drive, operate machinery, sign contracts, etc. I also don't know if it's given to minors or outside the US.

The cost is… not great, because I don't know that any insurer covers it. I shelled out right at $1600 for the full course. But, our healthcare system is so damn broken that that's two months of Latuda, another choice I had (and would have to pay for perpetually). For me, my savings could take the hit. I viewed it as an investment into myself, and also, I was so fuckin' depressed that I was like "I won't need money when I'm dead (next week)."

Would I tell you to do ketamine? If you’re offered it at the club, 100% say no, it causes blood pressure spikes and can be dangerous in an uncontrolled environment. Would I tell you to undergo KAT? I’m not your doctor, but I can tell you that I had an experience that was nothing but positive. It put a dent in my wallet, but I’m not dead, and I might have been otherwise. It’s really nothing to be afraid of, in my experience, so if you get the chance and it’s right for you, consider going for it.

#ketamine assisted therapy #me me me me me

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water1oo · 3 months

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In high school they had us write journals to prompts as part of our theology class and I wrote this entry in the summer before twelfth grade.

Words can't describe how angry I feel right now that I wrote about my past suicidal ideation and severe anxiety. I wrote about how I had no friends and was isolated. I'm talking about my anxiety disorder in sophomore year which is when it was at its worst, but in the present tense I talk about how "it's still hard for me to be confident enough to speak but at least I can get out of bed without feeling paralyzed" and "every time I wake up without a panic attack now I smile"

As someone who now works in education, I cannot fucking believe this teacher or any responsible adult never checked in with me about this entry. Shouldn't they have asked what the source of such debilitating anxiety was? It could have been abuse. I spoke about past suicidal ideation, I feel like that warrants a check in. Despite saying I was a lot better, I also wrote that I still couldn't speak and that I sometimes still had panic attacks in the mornings. If my teacher read this and didn't do anything, I was failed. If my teacher just assigned a vulnerable prompt and didn't read it, I was failed.

Mind you, in twelfth grade I still had debilitating anxiety it just wasn't as severe. I could have used intervention. I forgot how desperate I was for mental health support that I was waving red flags for people to notice. I'm so mad.

People say you become the adult you needed as a child, and damn that's sure true for me.

#Rant

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gentil-minou · 2 years

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Responding to this query posed by @karkalicious769

If we are referring to this scene:

I don't think it was a panic attack, to me this is more a sign of trauma and fear than anything else. But I don't need to go into this specifically because @parismystere did a great job analyzing the body language here (spoilers for Gloob's trailer for Ephemeral).

I always took Adrien's history to be a great metaphor for trauma while Marinette would be a metaphor for anxiety, but anyone can have a panic attack.

The challenge here is that it's hard for anyone who isn't the person experiencing a panic attack to recognize that someone is having a panic attack.

By definition a panic attack will feature an individual experiencing a number of somatic symptoms that are happening at once (although not all of them need to be present for it to be a panic attack)

As you can see by the symptoms listed, many of them are internal somatic (physical) symptoms or internal thoughts that prolongate the duration. Typically a panic attack will last anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes, with highs and lows. A person might feel like they are having a heart attack like something is extremely wrong and they're in danger.

Since most of these symptoms aren't going to be easy to recognize by a viewer, we need some very obvious cues from the characters that it's happening. In my work I run through the symptoms with my clients to make sure they can describe them and then we treat it like a panic attack and utilize coping strategies (like some of the ones in the photo above, as well as grounding techniques or mindfulness). If it's anxiety, we target the thoughts themselves.

In the show, there are several instances where the person being akumatized may be experiencing a panic attack. The best example might be Juleka who has been targeted for her worry either about being forgotten or for Rose.

It's hard to figure out whether Marinette has full-blown panic attacks, as opposed to just falling into a thinking trap that causes her to spiral. I've looked through a few episodes where I remember her getting close (Gang of Secrets, Sentibubbler, Origins, Shanghai, etc.) but nothing stood out really.

The reality is that we just don't know enough about the character's somatic symptoms or distorted cognitions for me to say ah yes this is a panic attack and not just a character experiencing emotion dysregulation and a thinking trap. as part of generalized anxiety. They may seem similar but in reality, there are noticeable differences

However, there is one instance in the show that might be a representation of panic attacks if we analyze it hard enough.

In Sandboy, we see Adrien have what may have been the closest to a panic attack when he realized his worst fear became reality.

It comes complete with the initial panic, fear of threat/danger, a feeling of doom and being trapped, like this will never end.

We also see him waiting for danger to pass, before it eventually returns to baseline when Plagg, his source of freedom and peace, returns and Adrien is able to break free from the confines of his fear/panic.

Also, this isn't really related but we've also seen Adrien being the most empathetic character in the show by spending time by Juleka's side supporting her while she has what might also be a panic attack in Mega Leech

Which is just a way for me to push my Adrien becomes a therapist headcanon agenda.

#miraculous ladybug #ml meta #ml psychology #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #i will say the number of times I get clients mixing up panic attacks with just constant anxiety is a lot #it's easy to get confused with them but it takes some time to figure out when you might be having one if you've never had one before #i'd love it if the show took the time to really give us detailed panic scenarios though #as well as coping skills #but i do think that the way they show it is pretty fascinating

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informationsorter · 3 years

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How to keep yourself safe from fear mongering and misinformation.

I know there's a lot of fear mongering out there, which feeds on misinformation and the common anxieties of those who have (or suspect they have) a disorder such as DID/OSDD.

The first rule is of course, do not trust anyone on the internet.

This includes me.

Fear mongering is when someone spreads fear and/or terror. Usually with a hidden agenda, but it can also be spread by those who don't know any better and who have been caught up in the fear. If someone is describing a terrifying situation (especially one that starts out seeming fine, but gradually becomes scarier and scarier until it reaches dystopian proportions), it is likely that it is just a fear mongering tactic. An example of fear mongering is "Gay marriage will lead to adults marrying children!". It usually involves multiple steps, which start out with a grain of truth, but twist the facts or use false equivalencies to make it seem as though their worst-case scenario is a real danger. The aim of fear mongering in this example is to convince people to vote against marriage equality. Inspiring fear in a person can also be used to scam that person. How many times have you heard of someone getting an official-sounding phone call which tells them they will be arrested if they don’t send such-and-such amount of money to them, or if they don’t purchase giftcards and give the codes to the scammer on the phone? It is the initial shock and fear which cause a person to fall for these. Fact checking is vital.

Fear mongering.

- Take a moment to overcome your initial emotional response. You need to be able to think clearly and logically when you are confronted with something that shocks and scares you. - Try to think about their argument/statement rationally and objectively. Is it likely that in this day and age a therapist would illegally force a treatment on you without informing you of all of the facts about that treatment? Would a mental health professional risk a lawsuit and the loss of their licence by refusing to answer your questions about a treatment that they are insisting on? - Check for sources, and it is very important that you not only READ their sources, but also look for other sources by yourself. The source/s supplied by a fear mongerer will often support their statements and seem fairly convincing, but actually contain very little fact. You need to do an independent search for information which supports their claims, and information which contradicts their claims. If there is no truth to their claims, you will struggle to find reputable sources which support it, and are likely to find many that have evidence showing that the claim is false. (There is of course the chance that something is true but does not have sources for it - eg 50 years ago, there may not have been many official sources supporting the idea that being gay is fine, and there would have been many official sources claiming that being gay was a disease.)

Do not take any one person's word as fact.

- Check for reliable sources that back their statements.

- Look for multiple opinions/input, from a variety of sources. It's no good asking 10 people in the same group for their opinions and then taking it as fact if they all agree. If you are searching for information, you need to take everyone's advice/input/opinion with a grain of salt, and seek a wide variety of people to ask.

- If someone claims that such-and-such is the ONLY possible way to experience something, you should look into why they are claiming that, and what reliable sources they have to back it up.

- If something is really a fact, there will be SEVERAL reliable sources discussing it. Not just one source being reblogged or referenced by multiple other sources.

Check sources.

- Look at whether the person is actually linking the direct source of their "facts" or not. If they are simply claiming that such-and-such says this, or vaguely indicating that a certain government or organisation supports their view... That's not good enough. You will have to actually research it yourself and see whether that is the case or not.

- Be cautious if someone has quoted something but does not tell you where the quote comes from.

- Look at the full quote, not just the part that the person has quoted in their post/statement. It can be easy to take things out of context, and make it seem like the source supports a certain view, when in reality it does not.

- Actually open the links if someone is citing them as a source that supports their statement. It's very easy to assume that because someone has cited multiple sources, that those sources are accurate and relevant. But in reality, it would be quite easy to simply link a bunch of random official-sounding URLs, that actually have nothing to do with it.

Check credentials.

- If someone is claiming to be a therapist, scientist, or anyone working in a medical field, you should not believe them unless you are seeing them in a professional capacity IRL.

- You are

ALWAYS

entitled to see the qualifications of someone who is treating you, whether it is your GP or a mental health professional.

- If someone online is claiming to be a trained mental health professional, but is not treating you in an official arrangement, they should not be giving you in-depth advice or diagnosis.

A mental health professional should always get to know you and your background before giving you advice. THEY WILL NEVER ATTEMPT TO TREAT YOU OR DIAGNOSE YOU WITHOUT ENTERING INTO A FORMAL PATIENT-THERAPIST ARRANGEMENT.

Seek a trusted person to help you fact check if you are having difficulties.

A lot of sources may contain heavily jargoned text, especially when discussing medical conditions/disorders.

Find someone who you know you can trust, and who is willing to admit when they are mistaken. Ask that person to help you.

DO NOT TRUST ANYONE WHO REFUSES TO ADMIT THEIR MISTAKES.

- Watch out for people using gaslighting tactics, or deleting conflicting opinions from their posts. There are some people out there who insist that they are correct, and will refuse to acknowledge any information which contradicts their statements. These people may use gaslighting techniques to supress anyone who tries to question what they've said.

- Any one who is working from a place of good intent, will be open to looking at reliable sources which contradict their statements.

- Similarly, if anyone tries to convince you that you DON’T need to check their sources, or that you can trust them without them providing sources, THIS IS A RED FLAG.

Is it ok to test someone?

In my opinion, when you are searching for accurate information, it is perfectly acceptable to test someone by asking them something you already know the answer to.

For example, when I went to the endocrinologist to talk about HRT, I asked her my most important question and she responded in a way that didn't match what my doctor had said.

So I tested her by asking a question I KNEW the answer to.

She answered incorrectly, and I knew that I would have to work hard to get accurate information out of her.

Here are some sites to help you fact check.

Scholastic.com

has an article aimed at children and teens, which is easy to understand and read. (It was also written by adults trying to use “hip” slang.)

https://choices.scholastic.com/issues/2019-20/120119/howt-to-fact-check-the-internet.html

Wikipedia

has a list of fact-checking websites, which may or may not be useful.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_fact-checking_websites

Middlebury Libraries

has a short list of non-partisan fact checking sites.

https://middlebury.libguides.com/internet/fact-checking

And finally, I am aware this is a clumsy post, fuelled by an emotional response.

PLEASE reply or reblog with any information, links, tips, guides, etc regarding fact checking or protecting yourself from fear mongering.

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

This post was inspired by

THIS POST,

which builds on a common fear amoung those with DID/OSDD, and drives people away from seeking help, for fear of losing themselves.

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

Here is what you should do

if your therapist is trying to force you into fusion.

If your therapist is trying to trick you into undergoing a treatment without giving you information, or refusing to give you all relevant information - YOU SHOULD LEAVE IMMEDIATELY AND SEEK LEGAL ADVICE.

Here is a bit more information about

possible end goals you may choose

during therapy.

#did #dissociative identity disorder #actuallydid #actuallyosdd #osdd #actually multiple #actually traumagenic #information did

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terubakudan · 3 years

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My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Nagata Kabi - Book Review and Impressions

(light reflection) Perfect :D Hoping Tumblr doesn't flag me for this xD

Ok, I'm going to start this off with 'this is probably the first and only book review I'm going to do' xD Because I rarely do read books now, and just as rarely buy them. Also, I would have preferred to buy the English version but alas they only had the Chinese version in stock ^^"

Stumbling upon this on the Internet, I was immediately compelled to buy this, as if I knew I would love it and that Nagata's story would resonate with me.

【Short Version】 I can't recommend this book enough, it doesn't matter what sexuality you are or from what culture are you. Nagata makes sure to tell an honest and 'naked' (without embellishments) portrait of her own personal experiences. How she herself is a college drop-out (having only graduated from high school), pushed herself to live/work while struggling with depression and eating disorders, not being sure of what she wants and feeling that she doesn't 'deserve' things, realizing her own sexuality in that she likes girls, and just not feeling 'good enough'...all through her cutesy and unassuming art style.

I will say again though, cutesy art style aside, the book deals with some very heavy topics. Nagata is very honest and doesn't shy away from the gritty details, and I admire her all the more for doing so. Many yaoi and yuri comics often portray an unrealistic and fetishistic view of the LGBTQ+ community whereas Nagata's story is much more grounded and sincere. This is not an easy read, but it's not an overly depressive one either. Nagata literally struggled for years with her mental health, but ultimately found light on the other side. Not mainly through the help of others, but through her own choice to forgive and love herself.

5/5⭐ Definitely recommend and would read again. And if I could, I'd give Nagata a big hug and a heartfelt 'thank you' for sharing her story.

【Long Version】 While it's written primarily from an Asian (particularly Japanese) perspective, Nagata's experiences are ones that should resonate with anyone who has been through the same or similar things, regardless of one's personal background. And I myself, while being fortunate enough to not have gone through eating disorders or self harm, am no exception.

I grew up in an Asian (Taiwanese/Chinese Filipino) household, while my parents weren't Tiger Parents (no offense but fuck Amy Chua for thinking that's a proper way of raising your children), they still had certain expectations on their children: to find a good husband/wife, have a good education, have a 'stable' career, etc. And while I love my parents very much, I'd be lying if I said there weren't any times where I felt they were smothering me, there weren't any times where they kept on nagging and bugging me for very trivial details. My biggest pet peeve: guilt-tripping me just for wanting to spend time alone.

"For me, my parents' opinion of me is absolute." (NOTE: While I won't be providing exact translations of the excerpts I used here, I'll do my best to summarize the gist of them.)

At the same time, I cared very much about their opinion of me. I made it a point to do well in school, to do things according to their wishes, and just like Nagata, I didn't know what I wanted. This even extended to caring about others' opinion of me, more than my own. In my freshman year of college, I 'went along' with being friends with someone, who while was nice to me, turned out to be a manipulative bitch skilled in passive-aggressiveness xD Being half-Taiwanese/half-Filipino, it was hard to fit in since people always treated me differently, it didn't occur to me I could be choosy with friends, I thought as long as they were 'nice' to me, that would do.

Asian culture is largely a collective one, where we define ourselves by our relationships with others, compared with Western culture (primarily America, I'll be using America as a reference point) where individualism is absolute, where you define yourself as you like. In Asia, it's also normal for children to still live in the same house as their parents well into adulthood, compared with Americans who are expected to move out the house once they finish high school or start college, and they're quite literally 'on their own', having to pay their own tuition, rent, etc. Where I live (Taiwan), it's normal for adults to continue relying on their parents financially well until college. Nagata for instance, while saying her parents really make her feel so pressured, is grateful that she still had a home to stay in (and she's 28!).

If you ask me though, neither a collectivist culture or an individualist culture is absolutely good nor bad. Each have their own pros and cons, and both Asian culture and Western culture could learn a thing or two from each other.

After going through quite a few job applications, one of the interviewers tells her "Ganbatte!" (You can do it!) after Nagata tells her what she really wants is to be a manga artist.

And sometimes that's all we need really, a small gesture or kind remark can do wonders. Even if there's no base or reason for it, it's something worth believing in.

I often have doubts if I'm doing what I really want, if I chose the right major for college, if I'm doing the right thing, if I'm 'good enough'. I didn't grow up with much self-esteem as a kid, and often derived my value from others. But even at my lowest times, a 'you're doing ok' was very reassuring to me, be it from family, strangers, or people I care about. Sometimes that's exactly what we need, it may be small but it could be the difference between continuing to wallow in depression or re-evaluating and choosing to be better to oneself.

I find it's really important to know, that however alone you may feel sometimes, there are other people out there going through the exact same thing. It's something universal, and while a lot of things are really unfair in life, each person has their own lot or burden to deal with. I have a Taiwanese friend who, while being more financially well-off than me, has terrible parents. And I mean parents who are quite so literally toxic, unsupportive of her, and would outright say the worst things to their own daughter.

How depression and anxiety can feel sometimes, we can literally feel like it's impossible to breathe and be in a state of disconnection from the world.

"The sounds that invaded my ears occupied my empty brain, making me unable to think at all."

If you only did what your parents asked you to do, wouldn't days like those be very painful? In the end, only you can understand what you really want.

Nagata's art style is one I would describe as simple, cute, and effective. I personally think had her story been drawn in a more serious style, it would have been even harder to read, much less finish. It's also a choice that has artistic appeal to me, serious subject matter juxtaposed with a 'kawaii' art style.

Nagata also depicts very well her mental state and thoughts throughout her struggle and journey to self-actualization. Depression is a really tough thing to deal with, and sometimes we don't even realize that we have it or if we do, refuse to acknowledge it. In Asian cultures especially, mental health has always been something of a taboo subject and there is a very heavy social stigma associated with it. Nagata herself even said that her parents seemingly refused to acknowledge that their daughter's mental health was in a state of distress. In Japan, there is a concept called gaman (我慢), which is described as 'enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity', and while it is portrayed as an ideal virtue that inspires perseverance, it can be a source of heavy pressure for others. Gaman also means that you are expected to suppress whatever emotion or negative feelings you have, often for the sake of others and no matter how tough the situation becomes for you. And while I agree that through gaman you can become more selfless for others, it shouldn't have to come at the expense of your own well-being.

I was quite fortunate to have grown up in a more liberal Asian household, but even when it came to mental health, our family also adopted the same kind of attitude towards it, by carrying on as if nothing was wrong, or just not talking about it. And to be honest, there were numerous times I wished we had been more open about what was bothering ourselves at that time. Talking and being open about your feelings is not a 'weakness' but something incredibly brave to do, and it's my wish for that to slowly become more acceptable in Asian cultures, which I know is kind of a stretch, but it doesn't hurt to hope.

Nagata makes the decision to clean herself up, by taking a bath everyday, habitually exercising, and no longer wearing worn-out clothes.

Depression especially can be a bitch. It deprives you even of your physiological needs, like your need for food. Nagata had to struggle with that on top of eating disorders for a long ten years. She ate so little and even felt that she didn't 'deserve' to eat, and at one point, anorexia became hyperphagia, and she would feel so guilty for eating almost expired/expired food. Things that would otherwise be simple to do also end up becoming difficult/impossible to do, like taking care of your personal hygiene, getting up from bed, doing simple tasks etc.

Thankfully, after Nagata realizes that she never truly 'valued herself', she starts to turn over a new leaf. Even just starting with cleaning herself up, she takes this as a form of 'valuing oneself' and her mood starts to improve, which her family also points out. In the end, taking care of yourself is not a selfish thing to do, it can even make you a better person who is there for others.

Nagata meets up with the female escort she hired, as a means to experience human sexuality, which she had always repressed her curiosity for and treated as a taboo subject. (NOTE: And I'm glad that she met a really nice girl for her first time too!)

Sex and sexuality is also a subject that I feel is hard to talk about sometimes, which I think also owes itself to most Asian cultures being relatively conservative about it. I myself have only recently identified as bisexual, which I attribute to internalized homophobia, not wanting to admit I was into girls too. And to be honest, 'coming out' is something I'm still uncomfortable about, because I don't want to risk my relationship with my family and it's still something I would choose to be selective about with colleagues and friends. I'm grateful though that as crazy the Internet can be sometimes, it can be quite accepting and tolerant towards things that we wouldn't otherwise discuss with even the closest people in our circle. Nagata's memoir ended up capturing the hearts of many readers ever since she first published it on Pixiv.

Exploring your sexuality doesn't have to be scary, it should be something exciting and liberating. Nagata decided to take matters into her own hands, and while the days leading up to the encounter made her really nervous and she even considered not going through with it at all, she willed herself to continue, because she wanted to do this for herself, it would be pointless if she gave up after coming so far in her decision to value herself.

And it's these series of actions that she decided to do that ultimately led to her life turning out for the better, it gave her the courage to do what she always wanted: to be a manga artist, which lead to the publishing of this autobiographical memoir, something she wanted to create that would 'make people want to buy this book' and from her own preference for reading stories that 'speak of secrets people wouldn't want to tell others'.

Nagata mentions what she calls 'honey': something that varies from person to person. It could be your reason for living, that thing that drives/pushes you, or even your sense of belonging. It may not be something permanent, but you can always find yourself a new one. (she mentions the last time she had her 'honey' was during her high school days, and while she has grown apart from the friends she made, she has found her new 'honey' in the form of being a full-time manga artist.)

Nagata stumbles and trips a lot on her way to being a better version of herself, but who doesn't? She admits to things not necessarily being smooth, but at least she's doing better than before. And it's that decision to at least try that counts. We don't have to be perfect, we're all human after all.

TL;DR My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness is a honest, down-to-earth, and ultimately hopeful memoir about the struggles of mental health and learning about one's sexuality. It's an amazing book, and very much worth the buy.

A big thank you if you read through all of this too. I know it's a mess and writing isn't exactly my strong point, but hopefully I've convinced some people out there to give this book a read! Please feel free to share your thoughts and I'd appreciate it very much too if you reblog/like this post.

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jbbarnesnnoble · 3 years

Text

JBBarnesNNoble's 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Challenge 2021

Hello lovely people! And welcome to the 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge. The aim of this challenge is to shine a light on mental health, medical conditions, and the things that can have impacts on us. This started out initially being a PCOS Awareness challenge last year but through conversations with other writers over Discord, it evolved into a Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge last year. I’m reusing some of the unused prompts from last year’s challenge and adding in some new ones!

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. The goal of this challenge is to lift each other up, and show that it’s okay not to be okay. Spread some love and light during a challenging time in the world to those who struggle with chronic illness, depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, grief, PCOS, acceptance from their families and communities for being LGBT+, and anyone struggling with insecurity.

This challenge will run through July 31st, 2021. It will run through Mental Health Awareness Month, Pride Month, and the month of July to give people time to write. You can submit it at any time. I probably have too many prompts, but I wanted to ensure that there was a wide array to choose from. Please don’t hesitate to message me if I haven’t interacted with your fic after a few days! Sometimes the tag system doesn’t work and I miss things!

The Rules:

1. Utilize resources available online if you’re dealing with subject matter you’re not that familiar with. I’m not going to go all “cite sources” on y’all, but please do make sure to do your research. Writing about some of these issues can be hard if you don’t have first hand knowledge of how it can affect you. The goal of this challenge is to write about topics that we tend to shy away from, that many of us struggle with, from mental health struggles to chronic illnesses to low-self esteem. A gentle reminder that if you think writing about a subject will be triggering for you, please look after yourself first.

2. Use #JBBNNMHAM21 to tag your fic

3. Dark!Fic- Due to the subject matter involved in this challenge, please don’t submit dark!fic. I enjoy dark fics, but this challenge isn’t the place for them.

4. Smut- Smut is welcome! Make sure you tag it appropriately.

5. No inc*st, dubcon/noncon, underage, etc

6. Ships- I prefer reader inserts, but show me what ya got.

7. NO JOHN WALKER FICS. Please. Please no. I beg of you.

8. Selecting Prompts: Just let me know which one you want to do! 2 people per prompt! The song prompts have a line from them under it. You DO NOT need to use the line in your submission! It’s mostly to help you decide if you’re interested in a song before you take a listen to it.

You also can alter the sentence and dialogue prompts as needed for grammar, be it altering the pronouns used or changing the pluralization of a word.

9. Trigger Warnings: Use warnings as needed. Fics dealing with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, or other mental health issues should be tagged appropriately to ensure that readers that may be triggered by the subject matter can avoid the fic. Trigger warnings are non-negotiable

The prompts are under the cut!

Prompts:

Dialogue Prompts:

“I feel like if I let go, if I move on, I’ll only be proving them right.”

“I don’t know. Am I? Because from where I’m standing it’s pretty damn clear that’s how you see me.”

“You don’t believe that do you? Tell me you don’t. Please.”

“It’d probably be easier if you left”

“Please leave me alone”

“Everyone’s got broken pieces. Some have more, some have less. It doesn’t make you less of a person to have those broken pieces.” @nekoannie-chan

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll take that shake now.”

“What’s the point if I’m going to end up breaking that promise too?”

“You sure about that, moonman?”

“It made you smile though. And that will always be a win in my book.”

“That’s not true. And I will tell you that every day of your life until you believe me.”

Sentence Prompts:

Feel free to adjust the pronouns as needed

It was a day. It was the only way it could be described.

Summer had a smell that reminded her of innocence and a time long since past.

In that moment, the world stopped spinning on its axis as it all shattered down around her.

Some things, there would never be a way to understand. @justrunamok

Like shattered glass, in that moment the illusion was broken.

Forever was a lie, just like everything else.

If you had another condescending doctor tell you your problem wasn’t a problem you were going to scream.

They’d say it was easy, like riding a bike. Except, you never learned how to ride a bike in the first place.

Today was going to be good. It had to be.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was going south.

AU and Trope Prompts:

Soulmate @samsgoddess

College

Childhood Friends @tellmealovestory

Friends to Lovers

Enemies to Lovers

Musicians

Writer

Professional Athlete

Teacher

Coffee Shop

Fake Dating

Accidental Marriage

Royal

Librarian

Doctor

Song Prompts:

1. Nobody Ever Told You - Carrie Underwood

Lyric Snippet: “Wish you could see yourself the way I do. Nobody ever told you, nobody ever told you. Shine like a diamond, glitter like gold, and you need to know what nobody ever told you”

2. Missing You - All Time Low

Lyric Snippet: “And if you need a friend, I’ll help you stitch up your wounds. I heard that you’ve been, having some trouble finding your place in the world. I know how much that hurts. But if you need a friend, then please just say the word.”

3. Barefoot and Bruised - Jamestown Story

Lyric Snippet: “Maybe when your sky comes crashing down, I can be your angel on the ground. If you get tired and can’t go on, I will carry you along, when the rocks below your feet wear out your shoes, when you’re barefoot and bruised”

4. Hold On Till May- Pierce the Veil

Lyric Snippet: “If were you, I’d put that away. See you’re just wasted and thinking about the past again. Darling, you’ll be okay.”

5. If I Surrender - Citizen Soldier

Lyric Snippet: “If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me, will it set me free?”

6. Home - Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors, Beba Rexha

Lyric Snippet: “All these miles, feet, inches, they can’t add up to the distance that I have been through just to get to a place where even if there’s no closure I’m still safe. I still ache from trying to keep pace. Somebody give me a sign, I’m starting to lose faith”

7. Broken Arrows - Daughtry

Lyric Snippet: “The best of intentions I lay at your feet. And I need you to see past the worst part of me.”

8. Used - Serious Matters

Lyric Snippet: “The wounds are gone and the pain still lingers. But this time I won’t stand by, I don’t need you in my life”

9. According to You - Orianthi

Lyric Snippet: “According to you, I’m stupid, I’m useless, I can’t do anything right”

10. Let It Land - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “And everything we hate is something we just bought along the line”

11. Cold As You - Taylor Swift

Lyric Snippet: “You put up walls and paint them all a shade of grey. And I stood there loving you and wished them all away. And you come away with a great little story, of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you”

12. Tied Together with a Smile - Taylor Swift

Lyric Snippet: “Hold on, baby you’re losing it. The water’s high, you’re jumping into it, and letting go, and no one knows. That you cry but you don’t tell anyone that you might not be the golden one. And you’re tied together with a smile, but you’re coming undone.”

13. Human Interaction - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “I don’t know love. I don’t know hate. I am numb. Wish I could find the words to say. Asking please, as colors fade. I need to breathe. Before I turn the world to grey.”

14. Therapy - All Time Low

Lyric Snippet: “Give me therapy, I’m a walking travesty, but I’m smiling at everything. Therapy you were never a friend to me, and you can keep all your misery”

15. Scars - Alison Iraheta

Lyric Snippet: “Do you know how hard I’ve tried to become what you want me to be. Take me, this is all that I’ve got, this is all that I’m not, all that I’ll ever be. I got flaws, I got faults, keep searching for your perfect heart. It doesn’t matter who you are, we’ve all got our scars”

16. Hurts to Know - 1551

Lyric Snippet: “I can’t remember what I did to earn you by my side. I can’t surrender. I’ll fight as long as you’re in my life”

17. Spinning Bottles - Carrie Underwood

Lyric Snippet: “He’s in a hotel room, with the tv on. Getting lost in the static with the curtains drawn, knowing this could be the time that gets her gone for good, he’d quit if he could. But one down, two down, three down, four, can’t even recognize the man in the mirror anymore”

18. Praying - Kesha

Lyric Snippet: “Well you were wrong and now the best is yet to come. ‘Cause I can make it on my own. And I don’t need you, I found a strength I’ve never known.”

19. Jersey On the Wall (I’m Just Asking) - Tenille Townes

Lyric Snippet: “If I ever get to heaven, you know I got a long list of questions. Like how do you make a snowflake, are you angry when the earth quakes? How does the sky change in a minutes, how do you keep this big rock spinning? Why can’t you stop a car from crashing? Forgive me, I’m just asking”

20. Five More Minutes - Scotty McCreery

Lyric Snippet: “Time rolls by, the clock don’t stop. I wish I had a few more drops of the good stuff, the good times. Oh, but they just keep on flying right on by like it ain’t nothing, wish I had me a, a pause button. Moments like those, Lord knows I’d hit it. Give myself five more minutes”

21. Dad’s Old Number - Cole Swindell

Lyric Snippet: “Sometimes I forget, these ten digits ain’t my lifeline anymore. Every now and then I dial them up when life gets tough or when the Braves score. Sorry about the one ring hang ups, early morning and late night wake ups. It was just me. In case you wondered, you’ve got dad’s old number.”

22. The Other Side - Lauren Alaina

Lyric Snippet: “There’s gonna be a lot of sadness on a lot of happy days, I’ll try to think of this moment, this place”

23. I Was Here - Beyonce

Lyric Snippet: “So they won’t forget I was here. I lived. I loved. I was here. I did, I’ve done, everything that I wanted and it was more than I thought it would be. I will leave my mark so everyone will know I was here.”

24. Gone Too Soon - Simple Plan

Lyric Snippet: “Like a shooting star, flying across the room. So fast, so far, you were gone too soon. You’re a part of me. And I’ll never be the same here without you. You were gone too soon.”

25. Amelia - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “And you will always be perfect, you’ll always be beautiful, our hearts, will never forget you. You didn’t belong here, and it’s become so clear why heaven called your name.”

26. Heaven Right Now - Thomas Rhett

Lyric Snippet: “When the whole crew gets together, memory lane goes on forever. We twist a top and pour a little Jack D out.”

#JBBNNMHAM21 #writing challenge #marvel fanfic

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hellpark · 4 years

Text

GREGORY: I don’t quite like the wording of these questions I’m reading in Craig’s little virtual post box.

GREGORY: But lest he tries to foolishly answer questions not best suited for him, I will step in I suppose.

GREGORY: It’s clear he’s made a fine job of telling you all about my friends and I.

GREGORY: Or, quite possibly the very narrow light of which he’s seen us in at least.

GREGORY: Which is to say, he’s probably described us all rather poorly.

GREGORY: It is true, both Pip and Thomas both are nothing but kindhearted individuals.

GREGORY: Both have had their share of bullying, misfortune, and untimely deaths.

GREGORY: I’d say Pip’s I can relate to more, but Thomas’ just upsets me a great deal.

GREGORY: Not to rank either of their tribulations, I just believe I have a better grasp of exactly why Pip didn’t end up in heaven.

GREGORY: He’s had eight years to explain it to me, after all.

GREGORY: And so I will attempt to explain it to you all though what he has told me over the years.

GREGORY: They both deserve to have their stories told the correct way, and not however it would have been explained by the doltish owner of this weblog.

GREGORY: To start, I believe Pip started up in heaven.

GREGORY: Though, he never made it through the pearly gates, which is what truly grants you a pleasant and bright eternal afterlife.

GREGORY: Once you make it through that barrier, the only way you’re doomed is if you cause religious mishap, or truly gain some sort of evil intent.

GREGORY: Of course, this is only the Christian afterlife we’re speaking of.

GREGORY: And seeing that I’m possibly talking to possibly a baker’s dozen of strangers over the internet right now, I’d like to state that I have no outer knowledge of the afterlives of any religion other than my own.

GREGORY: I can say with certainty that a Christian hell is not the greatest source of outside knowledge, as much as it has progressed down there.

GREGORY: I feel as though these stories would be entirely different if the two had been risen under different minded households, so please spare some judgement on my part if this seems rather one sided of me to speak of.

GREGORY: So again, I am sharing only what I’ve been told of, and under a Christian mindset.

GREGORY: My intent is not to nullify any other afterlife, only to elaborate on my friends and I’s.

GREGORY: ...

GREGORY: I honestly forgot where I was.

GREGORY: ...Ah, yes.

GREGORY: Pip’s hellish status.

GREGORY: As I stated, once you make it through those heavenly gates, you’re officially a resident of the eternal life in the sky.

GREGORY: Normally, unless you are turned away for sneaky wrongdoings not seen through the watchful eyes of heaven, there is no issue getting in.

GREGORY: And for someone like Pip, the prior shouldn’t ever have been an issue.

GREGORY: All the time I’ve ever known of him-- through life and death-- is that he is kind, generous, and rarely wears a frown.

GREGORY: He gives his pleases and thanks, and he rarely acts unjust.

GREGORY: From the times he’s told me that he has, even those instances sound rather just.

GREGORY: My time knowing him alive wasn’t all too long, but a year or so before he had gone missing, never to be seen again.

GREGORY: He doesn’t like to talk about his own death very much, but from what I can tell it was certainly during a time of travesty.

GREGORY: And during such times, the gates can get overwhelmed and swollen with other unfortunate cases.

GREGORY: Certainly, everybody at their untimely death could not wait to see their afterlife.

GREGORY: Some sorrowful, some full of hope that the worst of it all was over.

GREGORY: From how he described it, Pip was more on the latter side of the crowd.

GREGORY: And so imagine...

GREGORY: When you think it’s all over.

GREGORY: When you think life has finally given you a break, and you’re able to move onto a better one...

GREGORY: That even up in heaven, there’s still nobody that cares enough about you.

GREGORY: A simple break in the clouds due to deceased overpopulation.

GREGORY: Nobody turns their heads.

GREGORY: Nobody thinks to look behind them and see what they’ve been ever so gently pushing back over their greed of a happy afterlife.

GREGORY: And greed is a sin, mind you.

GREGORY: So they just continue to shuffle their feet and wait for their now undeserved turn into heaven.

GREGORY: And the wings you sprout after death are there for your tiring travel upwards.

GREGORY: It’s an exhausting journey to heaven, your new wings wont fly you a second time until you’ve reached your destination completely.

GREGORY: So if you’re denied entry before you can make it through, there’s no real way to fly back up until it’s far too late.

GREGORY: In life, Pip was never destined to go to hell.

GREGORY: In death, he still was not destined to go to hell.

GREGORY: But look at where the carelessness of others have brought him.

GREGORY: Where life can be cruel, death can be just as much so.

GREGORY: ...Though...

GREGORY: Sometimes, while life and death may both sow their unjust seeds... a lot of what normally decides where you end up is your own actions in life, of course.

GREGORY: Thomas of course was nothing but a sweetheart.

GREGORY: From what he’s told me, though he couldn’t go to a church publicly due to his developed anxiety over his Tourette’s, he always made up for it by watching church service with his mother at home.

GREGORY: Every single Sunday, he told me.

GREGORY: Though like some people, especially in more depressing periods of their life, he began to question his faith.

GREGORY: There came a point where he didn’t know what he should truly believe in.

GREGORY: He never did anything wrong, as he always listened and obeyed the strict followings of Catholicism.

GREGORY: And though he was many things most extreme Christians would call sinful, he still would choose to believe, all that time.

GREGORY: In the end, none of what he was would have ever sent him to hell.

GREGORY: He truly is just too innocent and nice of a person.

GREGORY: Though sometimes, after traumatic experiences in life, it can kick your belief system like a switch.

GREGORY: After loss, it can be hard to believe.

GREGORY: And apparently loss for Thomas meant cutting out an entire part of his life that he had believed for fifteen years beforehand.

GREGORY: “How can you believe in a god if it feels like you’re only on Earth to suffer?”

GREGORY: It truly hurt my heart to hear him tell me the way he felt.

GREGORY: But in the end, it made sense why he was in hell.

GREGORY: Attaching yourself to faith for so long, believing in a god, then ditching a life worth’s of devotion in an instant.

GREGORY: That’s what truly damned him to hell.

GREGORY: In the end it was only that loss of faith that flipped his destiny upside down.

GREGORY: For a while, he was in such a state of grieving, you knew you were still in hell.

GREGORY: Hell isn’t what he believed it to be anymore, of course.

GREGORY: Most of us had grown used to it, and even enjoyed the new era we were living in.

GREGORY: But it still stung for him.

GREGORY: Only in hell could you still hear the wallowing of the afterlife.

GREGORY: And of course, he only blamed himself.

GREGORY: He did two things that society said would damn him to hell.

GREGORY: But only one of them was what really did it.

GREGORY: Of course he didn’t realise this.

GREGORY: He sobbed for what felt like weeks, because he thought that the way he died... was what sent him here.

GREGORY: We would constantly reassure him that the means of his death did not attribute to his afterlife.

GREGORY: We even had him talk to the Devil himself-- of which we’re fortunate friends of.

GREGORY: He, too, could only assure Thomas that it was not the way he died, but the way he chose to squander his faith.

GREGORY: It’s a harsh reality, and it’s unclear if he grasps it fully, even after a full year and a half.

GREGORY: I’ve always thought that if he had someone in life to help steer him in a better direction, he wouldn’t have gone out the way he did, nor would he have been sent to hell.

GREGORY: His ex certainly never did any good for him.

GREGORY: Even if Thomas claims his ex was the best thing in his life.

GREGORY: How could someone like that be the best thing in your life if they let you fall this far down a rabbit hole?

GREGORY: Thomas truly is as ignorant as he is pitiful.

GREGORY: We’re full of experiences that Stan and his friends would never, ever grasp.

GREGORY: I can’t believe this is a question that needed to be elaborated upon.

GREGORY: But if I’m not answering them, that fool of a man Craig would be instead.

GREGORY: I’m sure he’d paint Pip and Thomas both as monsters here.

GREGORY: But I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.

#south park #sp thomas #gregory of yardale #pip pirrup #tweek tweak #damien thorn #hellpark

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i-rely-on-you · 3 years

Note

Farah and Sauk prompt: them cuddling, sharing a bed, just being really near to each other. make it fluffy. that's the main thing. fluffy. soo fluffy

Love you bibii!

I hope you’ll like it bibii ❤️

Closer

Being a mind fairy had its disadvantages too.

An overactive mind even while asleep being one of them. This sometimes resulted in Farah having very vivid dreams.

Such as tonight.

Her dream had her groan in her sleep, curling in on herself further than she already was.

The tiny noises from deep within her throat had the man behind her on alert in the blink of an eye.

His eyes shot open and zeroed in on the source of the noise immediately.

Being a light sleeper himself, a result of many years on the force, had come as an advantage for the man. They didn’t share sleeping quarters often, not like this, but three decades side by side had them crawl into the same bed or sleeping bag on a few occasions before. This way he had been able to experience Farah’s night terrors first hand a few times during their days together. Be it on a mission out in the woods or one of Luna’s stupid gatherings they needed to attend to. They always decided to stick together whenever they left Alfea for more than a few hours. It was their rule. Their promise to each other.

The bond they shared was a connection so strong it had taken them years to even attempt to understand it. To this day they didn’t fully know what it meant and how it worked but they did know that whenever they were separated they could feel the anxiety building in the other as if it were their own body. It was distracting to say the least. And should one of them get injured during a mission without the other nearby they would feel the pain as their own. It multiplied in their bodies to the point of collapse. They had gathered that knowledge the hard way.

Now concentrating on the woman in his arms he marvelled at their proximity. They gravitated towards each other during the night. Each and every night they slept close to each other this would happen. This magnetic pull just sowing them together. The contact made them both feel safe wherever they were. He had been able to calm the fairy down during her fitful sleep many times. Was able to save her from magic build up during the night. Sometimes her powers would surge on their own accord without her knowing, creating energy fields around her and levitating nearby objects.

If soothed quickly enough the specialist could reign her in before she managed to damage anything around her. Or anyone for that matter.

The fairy in question chose this moment to let out another soft noise of discomfort that had Saul wind his arm around her a little more securely now. She had been lying on his arm, her head pillowed on his biceps but the small noises emanating from her had him switch up positions swiftly. The arm she had been slumbering on drifting down a little to rest below her neck, his elbow bending, making his forearm band across her chest snugly. With his hand that had settled on her arm he started to rub delicate circles into her skin.

Not feeling her settle fully yet Saul decided to take a little more initiative as he knew how hard he could fall should he not get her to settle soon. Seeing as her body was still a tightly strung ball of tension he began to slowly wind his other arm across her belly, pulling her closer to his chest. The hard panes of his front laying flush with the taut muscles of her back.

Wiggling his hand between her hipbone and the mattress he grasped on tightly before pulling her centre backwards, her backside connecting with his groin.

Humming at the contact in her sleep Farah began to murmur softly. Still not fully convinced that she had escaped her dream yet the specialist started to whisper sweet nothings in the quiet between them. His nose ducking behind her ear, his face completely obscured by her shiny tresses shimmering silver in the moonlight filtering in through the open curtains.

This seemed to calm her somewhat, his voice always having had a special effect on her even in deep slumber. It was like her subconscious knew he was close by to have her back at all times. The total trust displayed before him had Saul stunned into quiet awe behind her. Each and every time he did this she would just go slack in his arms, pliant even. It was an honour he still wasn’t sure how to handle. Even after over thirty years by her side her trust was a gift he received anew every day. And he was grateful for it like the very first time it happened.

His hands still unsure then were attuned to her curves and edges now. Every valley, every dip in skin, every little freckle making up a map he had long memorised. His fingers having walked these familiar paths for years now. He knew where to squeeze, where to graze, where to lay the softest of touches to get her to react. To get her to relax. To get her to melt at his fingertips.

Their proximity had never ventured into the realm of being sexual but the closeness they shared was something so intimate, so heartfelt and earnest. He found it hard to describe on the best of days. On the worst he could only describe it as a deep rooted need to feel close to her it was almost painful.

A sharp intake of air had the specialist jolt out of his musings as Farah woke with a start in his embrace. She let out a gasp as the dream slithered from her sleep mussed brain at last. Grasping onto the arm slung around her chest she breathed out deeply with the relief of knowing he was by her side.

As if reading her mind he murmured into her ear “I’m here, it’s okay.” It made her tremble a little how well he could read her. He had always been good at that too.

Holding onto his arm a little stronger for a second she loosened his grip on her enough to turn around in the circle of his embrace to face him. Closing the space between them again as soon as she had fully turned around she grasped onto his back with such a strong grip it made him wonder what her dream had been about.

Her arms having come around his middle held him to her tightly now. Her muscles quivering with the strain. Letting out a grunt at the force Saul let his arms settle around her once more holding her fast and strong.

Farah pressed her face into his neck, her hair lying in wild tendrils around her he tried to tame her locks by gliding his fingers into her mane. His hands stroking it into a sort of order he could make out the shape of her head through again at least. Her mouth coming to rest at his jugular, revelling in the strong thrum of his blood pumping through his veins. Breathing out shakily she pushed further into him by nuzzling his Adam’s apple. It bobbed at the intensity she gave off. It wafted off of her in waves like aftershocks of an earthquake. One shaky breath sounded almost like a sob it had his head crane down toward her ear to whisper to her soothingly. “You’re okay Farah, I got you. It’s alright, love.” The endearment a long cherished friend slipped out of his mouth like a benediction. Hearing him talk made her shudder again.

One of her legs slung itself around his hip, her foot sliding over his backside and hooking around the back of his leg pulling his lower half towards her. Her strong leg binding him to her eliminating any remaining space between them with a firm tug of her calf. Her other leg finding it’s way between his own to rest comfortably between his thighs.

A quiet descended upon them after that. It was a long silence. Her sniffled breathing the only noise in the room for a while.

After what felt like hours she finally began talking in a subdued murmur into his skin, barely a whisper. It was hard for him to make out her words.

“I lost you.”

Her voice sounded so fragile it made his heart stutter. He hated hearing her like this. Her dreams made her relive some chapters of her life that they would both like to leave behind for good. Her strong mind cataloguing memories like a vault. Under lock and key but she could access each and every trauma with a vividness as if it had happened just yesterday. Another downside to being a mind fairy he suspected.

Finding his voice again Saul lowered his head to her ear before saying “I’m right here. You could never lose me.” His tone carrying a softness he only reserved for her. Placing a small kiss to the shell of her ear he let his hand wander into her hair. The soft strands weightless between his fingers as he grasped the back of her head tenderly.

Her chest was still heaving in rapid movements his other hand slid behind her and began to caress the silk clad valley at the small of her back. The material feeling cold to the touch he thought she might be freezing. This had him reach behind him to grab the blanket that had slid off of them during the night. Lowering it over them he pulled it close to her back, his hand finding it’s way to the small of her back again continuing his ministrations.

After a while he felt her relax into his touch. Her body falling slack in his arms. Breathing out deeply Farah hummed into his skin. The low rumble in the back of her throat making him wonder if she was falling asleep again. Stopping the circling motion with his hand he was surprised at her strong voice coming from the crook of his neck. “Don’t stop.” After a short pause she added “Please don’t stop.” Resuming his caressing he hummed out loud briefly. His mouth settling near her temple, his lips pressing a kiss to her skin there.

He felt her lips press the faintest of kisses into his stubbly skin before saying “Please don’t ever leave me.”

Humming more deeply he wound the arm not cradling her head to him around her back and pressed her to him even more firmly than before. His rigid body melting into her soft curves.

“Never.”

His promise had her sigh at how fervently he said it. The word falling from his lips like a vow never to be broken as long as he lived.

And it wouldn’t.

Her breathing evened out again after that. Her body going lax in his arms.

He would never stop protecting her be it during her waking hours or like this when she was at her most vulnerable. Because that is what he was meant to do.

He was meant to love her.

And he would.

Forever.

fin

@chibsytelford look what I did 🙌🏻

#farah dowling #farah dowling x saul silva #saul silva #fanfic #fate winx saga #fate the winx saga #ao3 #silrah #promt #fluff

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acnelli · 3 years

Text

The Speech

Hermione becomes the first female Minister Of Magic, so Ron has to hold a speech about it.

Just in case you’re wondering...I was never very interested in Pottermore or anything that got published after DH, so there might have been a female MoM before Hermione but I think this little detail is not important to enjoy the story ;-) I also don’t really see Hermione as a MoM. For me Hermione works at the Ministry, creating and pushing for laws to protect and improve the life of those oppressed and fighting for equality. But I liked the idea of a very nervous Ron talking about his wife in front of a huge crowd.

You can also find this story on FFN and AO3.

I'm so screwed.

This sentence was stuck like a mantra in his head ever since Kingsley talked him into this nonsense.

Who in his right mind would want him, Ron Weasley, to hold a speech? Sure, it was his wife that becomes the next Minister of Magic and she also will be the first female one. Which makes him the first husband to hold a speech about the new Minister.

But why couldn't they just skip this stupid tradition?

Not that he wasn't able to talk a lifetime about Hermione. But he sure wasn't ready to talk about her in front of half the Ministry, his entire family, a bunch of friends and not to forget these annoying press people.

Ron was fairly confident that he would say something stupid. He was Ron bloody Weasley after all and if anyone would describe him to a stranger this would be in his character description: Saying and doing stupid and/or inappropriate things.

Kingsley was about to end his speech and Ron knew that it will be mere seconds before he was called up to the stage.

Oh Godric, please don't make me embarrass myself in front of my children.

He thought back to this morning when his fifteen-year-old daughter made him a cup of tea to calm his nerves.

"Don't worry, Dad. You will do just fine. And please eat something." Hugo said, as he shoved a slice of toast at him. He picked his breakfast up and even took a bite, mainly to appease his son.

Hugo stared at him, determination and worry on his face. It never failed to amaze Ron, how much his son was like Hermione, both in looks and character.

Ron sighed and took another bite before shoving the plate away from him. "I' m sorry, buddy. Might eat this backwards if I'm having one more bite."

He sipped his sweet tea and wondered why the hell he was such a nervous wrack. It was the Quidditch games at Hogwarts all over again.

Ron thought he was over his insecurities, but old habits die hard, right? Looking at his two children made him feel a tiny bit lighter though. They both got his ginger hair and freckled skin with the tendency to get burned easily when out in the sun. Hugo got the warm brown eyes of his mother, Rose Ron's blue orbs. Rose sat beside Ron on the kitchen table, sipping her own tea. She was already in her dress for the ceremony, her long wild locks pinned up at the nape of her neck. She rarely touched her breakfast. Ron knew she was feeling the same anxiety he felt. Two years ago, during summer break, Hugo told Ron that Rose never eats breakfast before a Quidditch match and would sometimes spend the better part of these mornings in the bathroom. Rose was in many ways like him. She was funny, loved Quidditch, normally eats on behalf of a whole Quidditch team and had a temper similar to Ron's. Thank Godric, she got the brains of her mother.

None the less, she could easily comprehend what Ron was going through.

"And now, ladies and gentleman, please welcome Ronald Weasley.", Kingsley announced and stepped back for Ron.

He took a deep breath before he finally entered the stage and went to the podium. His family clapped excitedly in the front row, even cheering for him. He looked over to Hermione, who smiled and winked at him. Of course, the whole Weasley family joined the festivities today to celebrate with Hermione. They were all sitting in the second and third row along with his parents-in-law, who looked both proud and just the tiniest bit nervous.

For a short second he feared, that his impulsive decision from this morning. to ditch his sorry attempts of the prepared speech, was probably the worst decision of his life, but when the applause died down, he hadn't much time to panic over it. So, with a final deep breath and a look into Hermione's eyes, he started to speak.

“Th- thank you”, he said after the applause died down and tried not to flinch about the noticeable tremble in his voice.

“Well, as tradition demands, I'm expected to hold a speech about our new Minister of Magic. Speeches are not exactly my strong point and, in all honesty, I dreaded this moment ever since Kingsley asked me to hold it.” Ron threw a pointed look at the former Minister who just gave him an innocent smile.

Over the soft laughter of the audience, Ron heard a snort and quickly located the source. Harry was smirking at him and Ron supressed the urge to flip the tosser off. He hated The Daily Prophet with a passion, but for this headline he might forget about his principles for a day and actually buy this piece of garbage. Nevertheless, he decided against it, mostly because he didn’t fancy to be on the receiving end of some rather nasty hexes performed by his wife and mother.

“Some of you might be surprised to learn that I haven’t prepared this speech during todays breakfast, but for the better part of the last weeks evenings. Though certainly not perfect, I thought the outcome was quite passable. But last night I went over my words and realized that I would tell you things about Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley that all of you already know. Actually, you could have found the better part of my words on a chocolate frog card. Instead, I would rather tell you about the first day Hermione and I met.”

As Ron let his gaze wander over to his family, he saw a smiling but slightly puzzled Hermione looking at him. “The day I met Hermione was, of course, the very first day at Hogwarts. On the train ride I already met Harry Potter. You’ve probably heard about him at some point, saved the world or something like that. Anyway, in that train compartment Harry and I immediately became best friends and while we stuffed ourselves with a ton of sweets, a girl opened the door to our compartment, asking us about the lost toad of a fellow student. I was showing Harry some useless spell my dear brothers told me about, that of course, did not work. This girl though, performed an actual spell just perfect and informed us that she read every first years school book over the summer as preparation for our upcoming classes. Sure enough, she outshined everyone in every class and there wasn’t a teachers question she had no answer to. Back then and especially on that first day, I could never imagine to be friends with Hermione Granger. I thought that she’s a bossy know-it-all and on Halloween, two months after our first day at Hogwarts, she heard me calling her just that. As an eleven-year-old boy, it never seemed possible to me that Hermione could be sincerely hurt by my words. But of course, it upset her. Very much.

That being said, I’ll never regret these nasty words, because this Halloween night was the beginning of a life-long friendship between me, Hermione and Harry. If I hadn’t said that in front of her, she would have never locked herself up in the bathroom to cry and Harry and I would have never ran to this said bathroom, because a mountain troll was wandering the halls of Hogwarts and Hermione was the only one who hasn’t been warned about it. Ever since the three of us beat that troll, I could not imagine a good day without Hermione as a friend by my side. She still nagged us about doing our homework and scolding me for swearing too much and said things like ‘Ron, it’s Hermione, Harry and I’, but when I look back, the unhappiest times were when we didn’t speak to each other or when I wasn’t able to talk to her.”

He paused for a brief moment as surely the darkest time of his life came to mind, when he abandoned Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt, his heart full of pure fear and hopelessness when he thought he would never see them again. Or the weeks of Hermione being petrified, as he could still see this young red headed boy talking to her in the hospital wing, desperately wanting her to tell him off for staying out after curfew.

“Hermione did and achieved a lot of great things in her life. Most of these things you might already know, like her helping to defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters or her success in freeing the House Elves. Although these are amazing and exceptionally brilliant achievements, Hermione is so much more than the brightest witch of our age and a war heroine. Did you know that the beginnings of her efforts to free House Elves lay in our Hogwarts years? Back then, she started a campaign to free them and it didn’t stop her, that for a very long time, it had been a one-woman-movement. Her courage and ambition to help the defenceless and her undying sense of justice are exceptional and even more admirable, if you consider, that as a Muggleborn, Hermione had been in great danger herself, being the main target of Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Regardless what she went through herself, she never stopped to look out for others, especially her family and friends. And this is what she’ll continue to do as the leader of Wizarding Britain. Hermione will fight for a better life for everyone, for all of you and for those, whose suffering is still invisible to us.

I once read an article about Hermione inheriting the title of the brightest with of our age. It said, that she sure is intelligent, but mainly book smart. If you ask me, a person, who is simply book smart could never use the knowledge in real life, right? Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Hermione’s quick thinking and brilliance at everything she does, saved Harry’s and my life more times than I care to admit. Even in the most dangerous and horrible situations she was in, her highest priority had been to keep us safe.”

I was wrong. These were the darkest hours of my life., Ron thought and Hermione’s screams echoed through his mind.

“Hermione saved me in more than one way. She taught me self-worth and confidence, which, especially as a teenager, I hadn’t much of. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She was there for me when I needed her the most. And the best thing of all: for some unbeknown reason, she loves me. And in the end, this makes me the luckiest bloke in the world.”

For the next words Ron looked only at Hermione, who gave up to hold back her tears for quite some time now. “Befriending you had been the best thing I had ever done. I heard a lot of people say that they married their best friend. Well, I certainly did. We went through so many adventures -good and bad- together and I`m happy to say, that the good ones outweigh the bad ones big time. I love you, Hermione and I`m ready for this next adventure to come our way.”

#romione #ronmione #hermione granger #ron weasley #hugo weasley #rose weasley #hugo granger-weasley #rose granger weasley #weasley family #granger weasley family #minister of magic #my fic #my fanfiction #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction

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pollenat · 3 years

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“Nocturnal silence” | cjs.

➛ ITZY’s Lia. 2012!au.

➛ Word count: 1854.

➛ This short follows the events of “Liquid mirrors”.

The worst part about the overcrowded cabin has to be the snoring woman. The very same one that just a few hours ago complained about the lack of fresh brussels sprouts on a ship - the last ark of humanity after the end of the world. Humankind has gone mostly extinct, and she had the guts to be angry at frozen greens. Looking at her through half-closed lids, you’re itching to throw a pillow at the woman. Nothing can stop her from going on, like an old tractor, choking on its own engine every now and then. The very pillow you’re trying to deafen the noises with, does nothing to your sensitive ears. You’re growing more and more irritated with each passing second.

Others seem to not mind. You look down, at the bunk underneath yours, where a mother with her son are sound asleep. The boy has kicked thin blanket off of his body, as if to prove how much space he can take. His mother is lying on the very edge, somehow calm despite her tragic situation. A man, lying above the snoring woman, has earplugs. Lucky asshole.

Your body thrashes around for an hour or so. At least it feels like it. The duvet is in desperate need of changing, but who cares about laundry during the apocalypse? You’re all sticky from sweat, annoyed by incoming headache and ready to commit a murder, which is just a figure of speech, don’t worry. The fact that nobody else is as affected by the snoring? A perfect way to drive you insane.

At some point you can’t take it anymore - the night feels useless. You miss the rays of sunshine, the sign of life, the reason to stay away from the cabin. Tonight, just like many times before, you jump off of bed, barely avoiding the snoring woman’s husband. He has made himself a sleeping station on the ground. You wonder is he really asleep or just way more patient than you. Either way, you don’t plan on staying around a second longer. As soon as the door closes, you’re welcomed by sweet silence. It’s an odd contrast to the loud snoring. Its lack has you almost creeped out.

The floor is cold under your naked feet. To the point where you can’t touch it for longer than a few seconds. Jumping from one foot to another, you look down the dark hallway. Its only source of light are small windows in the cabins’ doors. Circle-shaped rays fall on walls, like headlights, showing you the way across narrow scene.

Nobody will mind you getting lost in the ship’s hallways, right? You’re just another survivor, struggling to find their place aboard the ark. There are no perspectives. Exploring it seems to be the most compelling thing one could busy themselves with. So you travel down the scene, stepping inside the circles of light and looking inside the cabins as you pass. There’s no other soul up. Everybody is sleeping. It’s sort of weird and you wonder whether it’s just a dream you’re stuck in. How come you’re the only one unable to fall asleep?

Humming some tune you faintly remember makes the night feel more bearable. You’re tired of the crowded spaces, of eyes settling on you, even if they’re just traveling. They’re a tiresome phenomenon that does nothing, but fuel your anxiety. The worst part? Aside from the night, there’s nowhere to escape. All-ocean has made sure of that.

Step by step, you move forward, never putting a foot down for longer than two seconds. You’ve already observed that, but now it reminds you of the past. The tiled floor of your balcony during Winter. Dusting used duvets while cursing at temperature. Welcoming the texture of a carpet with relief. Digging your toes into the fluff. It’s weird to miss carpets in the middle of the night, but you do. Their last reminder is the one snoring woman’s husband uses as his mattress, an object completely out of your reach. What interior designer forgot about additional carpets onboard a luxury ship?

In front of you a door opens. Some silhouettes leave their cabin in hurry. Hushed giggles resonate down the hallway. You can neither make out a sense to their conversation nor put faces to dark shapes. But they do sound familiar. The silhouettes disappear behind a corner in the hallway’s other end.

Heart beating fast, your steps speed up. A thought, string of memories, collection of pictures swims in the back of your head. Common sense is the only thing keeping you from describing them. Number 203 is meaningful, though it’s just a number.

You’re just by the door when it opens again.

“Oh!” Jisoo. Jisoo? Jisoo! “You scared me!” She laughs, eyes morphing into crescent moons. But as soon as her voice raises in volume, Jisoo covers her mouth, worried she will wake up other residents.

“I see there are more night owls around the ship?” You motion at where the two silhouettes, you can now safely identify, disappeared.

The girl looks in the same direction. Her eyes stay there for a longer time, while you watch her profile. Perhaps (you won’t admit it), you should be thanking the snoring woman for a chance to see Jisoo at a different time. Her hair is disheveled, but the little mess is a beautiful one. Eyes glossy, lips dry, t-shirt creased. She’s a painting you enjoy watching. Even when her smile disappears as she returns to facing you.

You grow nervous instantly, because the mood shifts and you slightly prefer the easy-going Jisoo to solemn and serious Jisoo. The easy-going one loves joking, which is much better, as it consists mostly of laughing at yourself and your inability to form proper sentences.

“Uh, yes. I don’t know why Ryujin and Yuna left though. They didn’t tell me. Probably to spy on Yeji.” Pause. “Or something...”

“So, are you going to follow them?” Jisoo seems to consider your question.

Then she steers the conversation to your person.

“I don’t know- Why are you up? Came to spy on Yeji too?”

“As if it has ever bothered me what's Yeji doing at night. I have my own problems, mainly, a snoring roommate.”

Jisoo nods her head in understanding, mouth opened to build on the effect. You’re stuck in nocturnal silence, both scared to break it. Frankly, you don’t even have any idea where to go from here. Maybe you should just return to exploring the ship, but then again, it’s not everyday that you catch Jisoo alone.

“I’ve been walking around, you know, exploring.”

Again, she nods.

“So you’re looking for some place to rest?”

“In a way, yes. Do you happen to know any?” She smiles.

“Actually, I do.”

You’re surprised by her boldness. Jisoo lies down on her bed and you’re watching her with an awkward surprise.

“Don’t make it weird, I’m just sharing a bed with you. Okay, perhaps it does sound weird. But we’re just going to sleep, not- do anything weird? Okay, ignore me. I don’t know what I’m talking about.” To be honest, her joke doesn’t make you feel any better about the situation.

After a defeated sigh, you walk over to the bed, eyes never once meeting hers. Jisoo holds the edge of her duvet. She’s patiently waiting until your stiff posture joins her side. Then she slowly follows your lead.

The first thing you register is the smell - Jisoo’s smell. It’s an overwhelming sensations you’re eager to breathe in after many attempts at small doses. Now that you can experience it in its full form, you can safely say it’s bound to become one of your favorite sensations. It causes you excitement, one that you’re embarrassed to show. Maybe she will call you a creep if you don’t stop yourself from smiling? Suddenly worried, you look for other things to focus on. Like the coldness of her skin against your left hand’s knuckles. Frankly, it’s stuck. The bed is meant for one person and you can’t just sprawl across its surface.

A moment of hesitation passes. Then you turn to lie on your side, facing Jisoo.

At first you’re both stuck in shy silence. Jisoo’s looking down, perhaps thinking over something. But you don’t plan on disturbing her. It’s as if you’ve forgotten your tongue - you can’t even feel it. The darkness is all-consuming and you wish to stay hidden in its embrace, so Jisoo never learns of how hard it is for you to say a word, but also look away.

“So.”

Her eyes, so hesitant to meet yours, finally reach them. She’s surprised to find you staring back.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad?”

“Yeah, how bad is lying next to me on a bed?” Dark eyes pull away to avoid you.

Your brain orders you to be smooth. “It’s not bad.” isn’t the type of smooth you had in mind.

“But not good either? Ah, forget I said anything-” Jisoo laughs nervously through clenched teeth. “I’m just nervous. Because I made you come here with me! That’s why I’m nervous.”

“Jisoo,” The silence returns. “you don’t have to be nervous around me. I know, my magnetic personality and good looks are to die for,” She snickers in disbelief at your words. “but I’d rather you felt comfortable around me. Which doesn’t mean our current bed situation- I mean, I don’t mind it.”

There’s a blunt taste on your tongue. As if you have just finished your entry for a spelling bee and were in dire need of some water. Some actually meaning a lot.

“Do you think your roommates will make fun of us?”

“Definitely.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Silence.

“Um-” She dares a look into your eyes before dropping them again. “Let’s go to bed then, hm?”

You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep next to her. At least not with the possibility of seeing her face at the cost of merely opening your eyes. Jisoo seems to have the same idea. Her turning around causes a way too powerful sting somewhere in your abdomen. Before you know it, instead of her soft face structure, you’re looking at void-like black of her hair.

Your left hand sticks to your chest, but what about the right one? Keeping it on your thigh feels tiring. Placing it on Jisoo’s side? Too wonderful and too dangerous. Even if you’re itching to offer yourself, you cannot imagine the amount of courage it would demand from you. Instead, you rest it in the hold of your left hand. That way, perhaps, it will be stopped before any unconscious action takes place.

For a moment, you wonder, would she mind? Still, it’s a question you have no answers for. You also have no idea what will happen in the morning. How will the girls react? What will Jisoo do? How will you feel in the morning and will your left hand let go because of that damn itching...

Perhaps, the snoring woman is weaker than your true enemy - your vivid imagination.

“Goodnight Jisoo.”

“Goodnight.”

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

#itzy fanfiction #itzy scenarios #itzy imagines #itzy fluff #itzy blurbs #itzy au #lia fanfiction #lia scenarios #lia imagines #lia fluff #lia blurbs #lia au #girl groups #pollenat's shorts

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kiruuuuu · 4 years

Text

Doc/Lion oneshot in which Lion suffers from the consequences of being tortured. (Rating M, hella angst + some comfort, ~3.3k words) - written for @renegad3spectre! Thank you a ton for commissioning me, I really really enjoyed this prompt, just took it and ran with it. It was a pleasure, all the love to you 🧡🧡🧡

Horrifically, it’s his grandfather delivering the blows.

He’s got fond memories of him, of sweets smuggled into his pocket, repeated stories ever-changing from one retelling to the next, quiet banter loud enough for him to hear but muffled enough that he suppressed his own laughter. He smelled of books and wood and old people, and that must’ve been it – the building had held a heavy, stale air which probably triggered the association, unwanted as it is.

So now the creature in his head, the remnant, the ghost haunting his mind wears his grandpa’s face like it owned it, like it had absolutely any right. It hurts more this way. It hurts to be called a disgrace, worthless, useless. It hurts to be disowned, it hurts to hear I have no grandson and it hurts to be accused of killing them, you killed them, your hand held the scalpel and this particular voice coming from his grandfather’s mouth is even more disturbing.

Who do you work for, he yells, unforgiving, merciless, and now his features shift, skin discolouring and eyes sinking into their holes to make way for nothing but darkness, and soon it’s the familiar sight of a brutal, faceless monster, concealed by a mask, surrounded by others looking exactly like him, supported by clones. Where are they, they scream at him in unison, who else. And he wants to answer, wants so desperately to reply to make it stop, is willing to give up anything, everything, if only it means this unbearable noise in his head quiets down. But his thoughts are made of tar, spread slowly and directionless, impossible to wade through. Words elude him, fade like smoke whenever he attempts to grasp them, endeavours to put this horrendous suffering into a single sentence.

Not like any expression he knows would be sufficient to describe this torture.

He doesn’t know what’s real. At times, he’s losing himself in a loud beat and a steaming crowd, coloured lights sweeping overhead and music seeping into his bones, and he knows he needs to reunite with his friends to keep partying, keep the night alive. It’s convincing enough he can taste the cheap drinks in his throat and feels naked, sweaty arms brush over his own on the dance floor – and the next second a blinding light pierces his skull and there are too many people around him he doesn’t know. They sound alarmed, eyes wide, and it sparks an instant, shrieking panic: something is wrong and he has no idea what it is. The strangers refuse to let him go, hold him down, and he tries to explain while the sterile stench they exude causes his stomach to churn and turn.

Most of the time, his ears are filled with accusations. The source is constantly evolving but what stays is the nauseating sense of dread. His heart races against the rest of his bodily functions and easily wins every time since his senses are sluggish, his perception unreliable and his thoughts wrapped in cotton. Grimaces of fury are persistent companions, and though he can’t put a name to all of them, their familiarity cuts deep. His mother, his former friends, his father, his sister. Alexis. Claire. The guy he met in Marseille who pretended to be his friend. Doc. Thatcher. An abomination from that cursed city Lion tries so hard to forget. Doc. The masked entity, omniscient, omnipotent, terrifying. Alexis. Doc.

He understands.

Why people would betray their loved ones, their country, their morals – he understands now, and the realisation is as chilling as the experience. He begged to be able to tell them. Begged for his life, begged for his life to be taken. Begged for peace as opposed to the chaos inside him, and he knows now most people have no idea what chaos really means. They humanise it, award it positive or negative qualities yet Lion would tell them it’s neither malevolent nor merciful. It just is. Against it, he is nothing, smaller than a speck of dust, utterly inconsequential and unimportant: in the face of true chaos, he’s meaningless. All he can do is hope he survives it.

The room is empty, his eyes tell him, and his ears tell him the same, but his brain is convinced of someone’s presence, just out of sight. Pitiful noises fill the barren, bleak chamber and they come from him, but at least they summon another human. A human with Doc’s face, and then with a mask, and then it’s Doc’s face again. Lion buries his fingernails so deep into his arm he tastes copper on his lips and pleads for him to stay. He sounds like a broken record, this voice isn’t his, the syllables barely intelligible among the dry heaving and the sobs. Music starts playing, a loud riff reminiscent of his teenager years, signifying rebellion and freedom and the worst fucking period of his entire life, and Doc says your hand held the scalpel and he’s gone again.

More, he implored as if anything he said would sway them, yes, please. And he looked at the needle and hated it, despised himself for craving it like this, abhorred the ones who turned him into this, and simultaneously he needed. He needed it so much. Without it, he was broken.

His throat is hoarse from screaming, so the visions morphed from atrocious to tragic until he had no more tears left to cry, and then they went for the very core of him. And this, too, he understands now: why anyone would go above God and decide existence isn’t worth it anymore. If he’s being tested, he’ll gladly fail as long as it means silence. If he’s being punished, he’s ready to receive eternal punishment for it can’t be any worse than this.

Someone is calling his name. The man – the men – knew it because he told them, it was one of the many things he told them, so he fights tooth and nail to continue drifting in this vegetative state, but it grows ever more insistent and strips away the layers of mud obstructing his consciousness, leaving him no choice. He can’t remember what it’s like, to have a choice, to choose.

Long words are being thrown at him. He deciphers none and yet an image forms below his eyelids, less blurry with every new description. The professional tone of voice pushes him gently back to his days of studying, a time filled with diligence and the hope to make a difference, and his despairing brain latches on to the information like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood.

Delirium, the familiar voice lists, agitation, seizures, anxiety, hallucinations. Too many syllables to fully absorb, and still he deconstructs them halfway. The mask wouldn’t know them. And if it did, it wouldn’t use them around him.

He’s safe.

He must be, it’s the only valid conclusion, but why does his existence still hurt this much? Why is the world shaking, why is he slowly drifting away from everything he ever held dear, from his life, this earth, himself?

They have Alexis. The realisation jolts through him like an electric shock. He needs to rescue him somehow, together with the people by his side, yet he can’t shoot at the maniacally cackling crowd running away from him because he’s not sure which one of them has him, and he can’t risk hitting his own son. Risk harming his most important footprint on this world. The masked grimace tells him he’ll be too late, and besides, it was his own fault anyway: Lion willingly told them about Alexis’ whereabouts in exchange for his next fix.

And he did do that. He did that. These are the consequences of his own actions, his punishment for complying with minimal resistance instead of staying strong, remembering his training. He sacrificed his son for something this trivial. Offered him up in exchange for complacency. Put himself first.

People are screaming, Claire, his colleagues, his family, and he knows he must interfere if his life is meant to be worth anything anymore, and there’s a small voice inside his head, an old companion. Full of vitriol, pulling at threads to make him come undone, scratching at scabs to cause scars, widening holes so he’s incomplete. It suggests a scenario and with petrifying speed, he’s there to live it.

He has a choice. On the one side is his son, gagged, tears in his eyes, struggling against his restraints. On the other side is –

There’s a –

It’s a syringe.

“-s alright. You’re alright. Take a breath, Flament. You’re safe, you have nothing to worry about. Do you need to throw up?”

Paying no attention to the words, Lion is flailing, sitting up abruptly and touching his legs to check whether they’re still there, touches his face and feels blind panic flare up the moment he spots the object in the crook of his arm. He’s narrowly stopped from ripping it out by an iron grip against which he struggles wildly, demanding to be let go, knocking something over and shattering it.

The vice-like grip never once wavers, and gradually his surroundings begin to sink in. He’s in a hospital, it seems, and the person by his side is none other than Doc, trusty (your hand held the scalpel) Doc who’d never let a patient suffer more than absolutely necessary. Bleeding heart Doc. Doc with his stoic face which barely contains the rage undoubtedly roaring in his chest (and is it directed at Lion?).

From one second to the next, Lion deflates and sinks back into the pillows, thoroughly fatigued. His adrenaline wears off quickly and makes way for uncomfortable nausea and the sensation of itching limbs. He needs to move, needs to shake off this horrible feeling of having slept a decade, but he doesn’t trust his body. The hand finally lets go of his wrist and leaves behind a print even lighter than Lion’s skin already is.

“Alexis is safe, too”, Doc assures him.

Lion jumps at this. How does he know? His throat closes and opens, produces a dry rasp and forces him to cough. Next to him, Doc is waiting patiently. “Where is he?”, Lion eventually gets out.

“At home. He never left.” He sounds composed despite the storm clouds visible in his expression, so Lion isn’t the intended recipient of his cold fury. “You kept calling for him, so I figured you must be worried. But there’s no need for concern.”

“What happened?”

Doc pauses for a few seconds. “We apprehended the ones responsible. Fortunately, we intercepted their outgoing messages, so what little information you gave them never reached anyone else.”

If this was true, Lion could exonerate himself. He also takes note of how Doc is silent about the before. He must guess Lion remembers being captured, remembers what they did to him. Bruises on his body are evidence for some of it, and the hellish trip tells the rest of the story. “How much did I say?”

“Doesn’t matter. We caught it.”

“How much?”

“You shouldn’t worry about -”

“Gustave!”, Lion roars, desperate to be either condemned or redeemed. He needs to know, must know so he can better assess his own mental strength. So he knows what to confess. So he can pray for forgiveness.

Doc’s lips are a thin line. “I don’t know. Grace and Mark had an agreement with Harry not to disclose any details. He says it’s standard procedure to prevent potential animosity.”

Not good enough. He’ll never be able to look Alexis in the eyes again if it turns out he did mention him. How much of his memories are real, how much were part of his nightmares? “What about my son?”, he whispers and Doc just shakes his head.

“As I said: I don’t know. Try to get some rest, Flament.”

Just as he exits the room, Lion spots the deep scratches on Doc’s forearm. Please stay, just please, he yells at Doc in his head, unable to bend his lips around the words. Don’t leave me alone. Don’t leave me.

He starts crying again.

So weak is he that the tears won’t stop, can’t stop, a broken silhouette in the shape of a man. Fragmented, just like his thoughts. He can’t remember ever feeling this terrible, hasn’t felt this frail and fragile in forever. His body doesn’t feel like home.

No time that night is spent sleeping. Restless, he crawls out of bed, explores the room that isn’t his while dragging his IV stand along, lets his eyes wander over pages not belonging to him, books left on his nightstand on accident probably, and doesn’t absorb a single word.

Once his thoughts are his own again, he utilises them with newfound fervour. He requests his phone and types until his thumbs hurt, types and deletes, corrects, amends, reinvents.

This is a theme in his life, an endlessly repeating circle: arrogance begets punishment. A boastful adolescent loses his innocence by nearly terminating an unborn life, by indulging vices too great for him to understand. A reformed young man deeming himself competent is burdened with death and riddled with blame (your hand held the scalpel).

A man, feeling invincible, having repaired bridges, full of empathy, is beaten bloody and broken.

He hasn’t updated his will in years – a symptom of a much more dangerous cause. Rainbow instilled a delusion of grandeur in him, promised him a future, coloured his life vibrantly and provided a new motto. Not me. He won’t be killed in the line of duty, not with these people by his side. He’ll be fine. Whatever happens, he’ll be fine.

This was a close call. Targeted and much more efficient than Six anticipated, or else Lion never would’ve been captured in the first place. If this is a sign, it couldn’t be any clearer: he’s not only not invincible, he’s delicate. This was just one weakness they could’ve exploited, Alexis obviously being another, his family as well. He won’t be as cocky when embarking on a mission from now on, and he’ll try to convey to the others how easy it is not to return.

It’s an earth-shattering wakeup call.

And so he types until the letters blur before his eyes, and says things which needed saying years ago. And he vows that this change in perspective will be a permanent one – he’ll never open himself up like this anymore. He’ll stay alert. He’ll fend off complacency.

And then Montagne is by his side and says a thing too chilling to be true. He’s gone, it drips from his lips like poison, and Lion knows with absolute certainty that it’s the truth. Doc accompanied him on the mission, Lion failed him, only he was saved. Endless protest is shushed by a sad shake of the head, a head with a face so ashen Lion can tell he’s not the only one filled with sorrow at the news.

There’s so much left unsaid between them, so much admiration and respect bottled up in order to show no weakness, and now he knows it’s useless to suppress emotion due to pride. Neither of them had managed to move on and now that Lion was willing to offer introspection and the admittance of possible mistakes in the shape of good intentions and the only course of action he saw, Doc would never be able to accept any of it.

Doc would never tell him he did a good job again. He’d never show him this grim smile again, the one he wore whenever he was satisfied with Lion’s work despite the outcome, laced with pride almost – or maybe this is wishful thinking, because after all they’ve lived through, a part of Lion still craves his approval so desperately that every positive word makes him glow from the inside, only he’s gone now, and Lion will never tell him –

“Olivier.”

Drenched in sweat, a pounding headache and with trembling limbs, he wakes up. Still in the hospital, still with Doc by his side. Of course: his demons have been depriving him of all things positive in his life, so why not him too? Nightmares know no bounds and refuse to accept Doc is sacred.

The other man is flushed slightly, dressed immaculately as always, but most importantly: alive. His gaze is turned downward to where Lion is gripping his wrist so tightly his knuckles are white. “I’m here”, Doc says gently. “You can let go. I’m here.”

Lion considers complying, though when it registers that Doc called him by first name, all he does is loosen his grip. “I dreamt you died”, he admits, staring up at the irregular patterns on the ceiling. He couldn’t ever convey this emotionless void Doc’s death caused in him, the utter emptiness – somehow, it was as if he’d lost his life’s goal. Which is insane, because his aim is to better the world. Not win Doc over.

“I could tell”, says Doc.

He must’ve been distraught, calling out in his sleep, reaching for his colleague. A question occurs to him which he should’ve asked sooner: “Is everyone else alright?”

“Yes.” Hesitation. “Ying has a black eye. When we came, they were currently depriving you.”

Lion figured as much. “I need to apologise to her.”

“You weren’t yourself.” Doc’s eyes meet his. “That wasn’t you.”

His relief must be palpable. Hearing it from Doc’s mouth doesn’t make it true, but it drowns out that malicious voice which never fucking shuts up. Giving up their secrets, thirsting for a meritless high, attacking blindly – even himself: he’s more than that, and knowing Doc is fully aware of this causes him to fight back tears of gratitude. “No. It wasn’t.”

After a moment of silence, Doc’s arm twists around and offers his hand, which Lion immediately accepts. For now, there’s no second-guessing motives, no long deliberation as to whether Doc is helping a co-worker, a friend, someone more than that, whether he’s volunteering support or understanding or something else entirely. All he knows is: the hand is warm, so warm it spreads a soft calmness all throughout him.

“I brought you music.” Doc indicates an old iPod on the bedside table next to the stack of books (which has grown), a vase with flowers and a few cards. Lion either failed to notice them before or they’re a recent addition. “Dominic helped with the selection.”

This is good news. Lion hopes for unfamiliar bands – he’s not sure what kind of reaction the ones from his youth might trigger in this state.

“And I spoke with Harry.” The segue is too casual. Lion has become proficient at reading between the lines with Doc, and he translates it as I gave him a stern talking to. “He said to tell you the information you gave was deemed ‘insignificant’.”

The wording doesn’t escape him: there’s no certainty in what -

“And you didn’t even mention Alexis.”

Lion takes a deep breath.

Between the constant pressure against his temples, the rolling stomach and nauseating dizziness, he’s felt better, but trusting Doc’s words to be true settles something inside him. Doc wouldn’t lie about this. “Thank you”, Lion replies and hopes his earnest gratitude is audible.

There’s so much to say between them his thoughts are going haywire considering just a fraction of it. All their arguments are ultimately the same as Lion’s treason: insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Something invisible connects them and it should be time to drag it to the surface, but not now. Not when he’s barely begun to heal from his outside and inside wounds.

Instead, he asks: “Will you stay a little longer?”

This time, Doc nods and remains where he is, a bastion of calm. And when Lion squeezes his hand, Doc returns the gesture and it’s all he needs for the moment.

It’s enough.

#rainbow six siege #doc #lion #doc/lion #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #my internet search history is very suspicious now #they're tired of dancing after this #there's more important things than beating around the bush

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home

Summary: Everything would be perfect, if he could just get home. Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader Word Count: 2K Warnings: Miscarriage, HEAVY angst. Please don’t read if these things trigger you in any way. A/N: This is what happens when personal boy issues, wine, and crying Henry gifs collide. I apologize in advance. The song for this one is Lovely - Billie Eilish, Khalid

“And then literally Desmond says, ‘just give him the bloody axe, he’ll do it himself!’”

You laugh at the culmination of Henry’s story, an anecdote involving a very large tree, a very nervous crew member, and a director who put more stock in his lead actor than any of the men hired to actually remove the tree from the shooting location.

“How’s our little one?” Henry asks after a moment, his voice tender and sweet, already a doting father even though you’re only six months along.

“She’s having a little dance party, but I think that’s due to the chocolate chip cookie I ate an hour ago,” you laugh, rubbing the belly that sprang up overnight; It seemed like only last week you still had a flat tummy.

“Well, you tell her daddy can’t wait to come home and give her and mummy so many kisses she’ll lose count.” You can hear the smile in his voice and it warms your heart, cementing Henry as the man you want to grow old with and have many more babies with.

“Mummy misses daddy a lot. When are you coming home, babe?” You ask softly, knowing production had been plagued with delays ranging from weather to a stomach bug that had laid out half the crew and nearly all of the cast. Henry sighs thoughtfully, the sound making it clear that he too is frustrated by the schedule.

“If all goes according to plan from here on out, I should be home next month.” It’s not ideal, especially as your pregnancy draws to a close, but it’s better than nothing.

“I’ll be at Heathrow with bells on, and maybe your mother in tow,” you chuckle, trying to bring levity to a situation you knew was hard on both of you. An affectionate person by nature, you know it’s hard for Henry to be away from those he loves. You miss him more than words can describe and you know that him coming home will be the balm for all the aches, nausea, and trouble sleeping you’ve had since first getting the news.

“I can’t wait to see you, love. Miss you so much. Sleep now, and I’ll text you in the morning. Love you to the moon and back, darling.” Henry’s words bring tears to your eyes, as they always do when you’re apart for an extended duration, but you manage to keep your voice even as you respond in kind, saying your own ‘I love you’s in the nick of time, hearing Henry’s name being called by production just as you finish.

It’ll be a long month, but you know that soon enough, the man who keeps your heart will be back and you’ll be nestled in his arms, where you belong.

______________________________________

You wake from a decent sleep when, after rolling over, you feel wetness coat your outer thigh. Thinking you must have been dreaming of the ocean a little too much, you feel around for the bedside light switch and turn it on, rubbing your eyes to ease the switch from the darkness. You’re really not in the mood to deal with having to change the sheets, but what meets your eyes is beyond changing. Bright crimson instantly sets off alarms, and you look down to find that the source is exactly what you were hoping it wouldn’t be.

There’s little time to react as a bolt of pain ricochets through your entire torso, emanating from your womb and immediately making you want to vomit. You manage to reach for the phone and call for an ambulance, but make it clear they may have to break down the door to get to you. For once, you’re grateful that Henry takes Kal with him whenever he goes to shoot, as the dog would hinder more than help as you pull together all your strength to try and stand.

The room spins violently and you manage to grab onto the doorframe before your knees turn to jello. Taking several deep breaths, you wait for the wave of nausea to pass before dragging yourself to the staircase. Crumpling at the top of the stairs, you breathe slowly before moving down like a child pretending to be on a slide. You’re out of breath from pain by the time you get to the bottom and it takes the last of your energy to reach up and unlock the front door. Cell phone gripped tightly in hand, you do your best to stay awake, hearing the sirens in the distance.

Though you have no memory of arriving at the hospital, one directive repeats in your head like a marching order, and you make sure to tell every doctor or nurse that comes into your triage room that under no circumstances do you want anyone to be contacted, especially the father of your baby or his family. The staff at the Royal find the request odd, but because you’re awake and alert, they have no choice but to heed your wishes. With your own family an ocean away, your request leaves you no choice but to go through the ordeal alone. All the better, you think, guilt already forming as the doctor breaks the bad news.

Your world is overturned in a matter of hours. They put you on Oxytocin, and pain the likes of which you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy is your sole companion for the next several hours as you’re induced for a birth you’ll never be able to celebrate. When all is said and done, the nurses ask if you want to hold your baby, and against your better judgment, you say yes.

Seeing her perfect, peaceful face breaks you.

______________________________________

A month and a half to the date of the phone call, Henry arrives at Heathrow to find, much to his confusion, only his mother waiting for him. He greets her warmly, but his eyes scan the arrival area, hoping that you’d maybe just run off to use the restroom. When he finds no indication of your presence, his attention turns back to his mother.

“Where is she, mum?” He asks, unable to piece together why you aren’t there, in his arms, where you promised you would be. Henry’s mother looks anywhere but at her son, unable to find a way to explain that everything he knew and was expecting had irrevocably changed.

“She couldn’t make it on account of the...I’ll take you to her, son.”

Henry tries not to let his imagination run wild as his mother drives north, past the home he shares with you. When the car crosses into Mayfair, Henry begins to panic. “Mum…” His tone is low, distrusting, frightened. His mother’s hand is clammy as it finds his, squeezing in a way that’s meant to be supportive, but only fuels his anxiety.

He begins to visibly tremble when the engine cuts off in front of Nightingale Hospital. “Please tell me what’s going on. Why are we here? What happened? Mum, please.” His whispered appeal breaks his mother’s heart and she cups his face, willing herself not to shed tears yet again, for her son’s sake.

“I’m sorry, Henry, love. I’m so sorry, my darling.” The explanation sticks in her throat, allowing only platitudes to escape and leaving Henry with no choice but to fly from the car and into the private hospital.

The receptionist looks shocked when she recognizes him and forgets her job for a moment when he asks for your room number. “The last name is Cavill. Please, hurry. I need to see her.” When it’s explained that patients aren’t generally allowed visitors, Henry nearly begins foaming at the mouth, feeling as though he’s losing his own mind. He asks to speak to the doctor in charge, and before long is ushered into an office and poured a cup of tea, the banal formality only serving to anger him more.

“Why is my wife in this godforsaken place?” He barks at the doctor the moment the door is closed, wanting answers and wanting them immediately. The doctor takes a seat, his expression sympathetic.

“Mr. Cavill, I apologize that we weren’t able to reach you, but your wife, before taking a turn for the worse, made it explicitly clear that we were not to contact you. At this time, given that she can no longer make those sorts of decisions, her instructions fall back to you as her power of attorney.” The doctor takes a deep breath, knowing that what he’s about to say will break the man in front of him.

“Your wife had a late-term miscarriage about a month and a half ago. It was exceedingly traumatic for her, especially as the common procedure for dealing with these sorts of things is to induce and force labor. Your wife went through all of that trauma alone, by her own choice, as she was repeatedly asked if you were to be contacted. It took several hours for her to deliver your child, and holding the baby afterward put her in a severe downward spiral in terms of her mental health. She’s been residing with us since her delivery and I’m sorry to say, but as of late, she’s been in a catatonic state, giving us minimal responses. At this stage, we’re simply providing palliative care to your wife. Unfortunately, many in her condition never recover, so we do our best to keep her comfortable, healthy, and calm.”

Henry keeps his mouth pressed firmly closed in order not to scream. Blowing air through his nose, he forces himself to bite his tongue until it bleeds, chest heaving as he fights for control. If he can’t keep it together, he can’t see you and that’s all that matters to him at this point.

“May I see my wife? I’ve been overseas for the last six months, shooting a film. I w-was expecting her at the airport.” His voice sounds wrong to him, pinched and tinny. He knows he has tears in his eyes as the doctor is blurry, but he refuses to let them fall, his need to be strong for you taking over any allowance for grieving.

“I’ve been told she’s not having a good day today, so if she refuses to look at you, to let you touch her, to make any form of response, please do not think it your doing. It’s the nature of her condition,” the doctor warns as he approaches your room.

It’s all Henry can do not to break down right there and then, the heels of his palms pressing hard into his eyes, teeth clenched as he tries to remember how to breathe. The woman in the bed, staring passively through him isn’t the woman he loves, the one he would die for. That woman is gone, replaced with a cheap, emotionless facsimile that breaks him even more. Resting his hands on his knees, he tries to catch his breath, wishing he’d come home sooner.

______________________________________

By the time he’s back in his mother’s car, Henry’s numb to everything but the pain searing through his chest, “Take me home, mum. Please,” he murmurs, Henry’s head lolling onto the window for the duration of the drive back to your former home. He refuses to allow his mother in the house, pleading with her to go home and wait for his call. She takes Kal with her, knowing her son well enough to understand that he needs to grieve in his own way.

Henry’s not ready for the blood, having assumed that someone would have cleaned it up by now, but the Hansel and Gretel trail is hard to miss and with leaden steps, he moves upstairs.

Left in the exact condition it was last used in, the room you two shared leaves no question of what happened and what you went through, alone. His knees give out as he takes in the sheer quantity of blood on the bed, Henry guilt-ridden that he wasn’t there for you when you needed him most.

Finally freed of any need to save face or be strong for others, Henry screams from the depths of his shattered soul, the sound unbroken until anguish consumes his voice and tears flood his face. Finding his feet, Henry staggers to the bed and curls up around the remnants of his previous life, wailing over the permanent reminder of what almost was.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #angst #deathonyourtongueoriginals #no puppers were harmed in the making of this fic

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neverendingparable · 3 years

Text

Returning Home

mentions of self harm, suicide, mental illness, drugs, medication, scars

Someone was knocking at the door, loud and urgent, interrupting his reading.

Ezra picked up the bookmark and slid it in between the pages, then checked his phone in case he had overlooked a message before he got up to answer.

Probably someone from the downstairs apartments was asking for help again. He wasn't quite sure when he became the man to go to whenever the trash collectors oversaw their cans or when scammy ads were on their way to frightening people into buying insurance with shady companies, but it seemed like every time something odd happened around here, at least one person would turn to him for help.

He unlocked the door and opened it, ready to assure a worried elder about doubting the legitimacy of the latest marketing scam. Instead of his downstairs neighbors, he found Stanley, sweater and hair disheveled and eyes bloodshot.

Ah.

Ezra didn't expect him to come knocking so soon and an unexpected flutter of panic unfolded in his chest. It was only two days ago when they had the fight, or rather it was Ezra chastising him, telling him that he had to choose between living and dying once and for all.

'I'm not going to be with someone who is constantly on the edge, Spencer,' he had said, trying his hardest not to yell. 'You need to figure out what you want. I can't stop you from hurting but I can be there with you every step of the way if you want to recover. I want to be there for you. But I can't watch you sabotage yourself, much less stand by idly while you dig your own grave.'

He had poured in years of frustration with his ex boyfriend, all those times he was Stanley's rock, the reason why he was still alive, the one to treat his injuries. But it had never gotten better and Ezra decided that perhaps if he gave him an ultimatum, Stanley would finally realize he was being serious. He wasn't going to stand around and watch the most important person of his life kill himself slowly.

That was the last time he had talked with him. He wanted to give him space to think about his words, to let Stanley feel the absence so he knew the gravity of his choices. Ezra had felt a tiny bit guilty about it all, but he knew it was important. Nothing else had worked before.

He had expected a week or so of silence until Spencer eventually crawled back and reluctantly agreed to try out something. He hadn't prepared to be confronted so quickly.

Despite the nervousness creeping up his throat, Ezra relaxed into a friendlier stance and attempted to smile.

"You look awful," He said lightly. "Did you stay up all night?"

Stanley stared at him. There was something wild in his eyes. Fear? Desperation?

"....did you have a nightmare, Stanley?" Something felt off. Even if he did simply pull an all nighter or - possibly - hadn't slept since their argument two nights ago, it didn't make sense for him to look this worn down. Stanley was the type of guy that could take three all nighters in a row without flinching even at age twenty five, while Ezra who was only slightly older felt groggy if he didn't go to bed before midnight.

Perhaps Ezra had managed to get through to him after all and Stanley felt so guilty he spent the last two days beating himself up over it before working up the nerve to come here. Somehow, that didn't make him feel any better.

"Wha...what date is it?" Stanley finally croaked out in a hoarse whisper.

Ezra blinked. "Sorry?"

"The date."

"It's Tuesday." Ezra stepped forward to coax him in, but stopped when Stanley made a noise of frustration.

"Year??" He demanded.

Maybe he was drunk. Or high. Or both. Ezra was certain you weren't supposed to mix drugs and alcohol but if something was forbidden and potentially dangerous it would make sense for Spencer of all people to try it.

"Why don't you come in and I'll get you a glass of water," He attempted again, keeping his voice gentle. "You're confused—"

"For fuck's sake! Just tell me the damn date-" Stanley's voice cracked and became strangled. He looked like he was about to cry.

Ezra had no clue what was going on. It scared him though, even after all these years of witnessing breakdowns and fits of rage, he had never seen his friend like this. It was like he changed into a different person overnight. The Spencer two days ago barely seemed remorseful after their relationship abruptly ended.

"It's October the 15th, 2013," Ezra said carefully.

Spencer's face fell instantly. It was the oddest expression he had ever seen on someone, full of sadness and understanding, hope and rage and a tinge of happiness. Like all of his worst fears were just confirmed and amidst it all, so was his greatest wish. He swayed for a second, lost in a million mile stare and then steadied himself enough to step into Ezra's apartment.

He stood there, looking around while Ezra closed the door behind him. His eyes rested on every piece of furniture as if making sure they were all still there where he remembered them to be.

Then he turned towards the couch and for a split moment, Ezra could've sworn he saw a pale thin scar stretch across the back of Spencer's neck, like someone had attempted a decapitation. He shuddered and looked again and found it gone.

"So-....uh..." Spencer took a seat on the couch awkwardly. He searched his thoughts for a second then attempted to appear a bit more relaxed, like he was stepping back into his role as the nonchalant jokester.

"How are you, um, Ezra?"

Ezra stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, you come stumbling in here like a zombie on drugs and now you want to make small talk? What happened to you?"

Spencer shrugged. Normally it would make his blood boil but Ezra just felt helpless. This didn't seem an attempt to dismiss his concerns. Spencer was guarded, sitting like a caged animal ready to jump and run at the first sign of danger.

"I'm not on any drugs."

"Alcohol?"

"No."

"Did you take any meds?" He had to ask just in case Spencer was cleverly avoiding confessing to be drugged up with medication instead of drugs he bought off a friend.

"No." Spencer paused. "I'm...I'm just a bit confused, that's all. Had a rough-...rough time."

Ezra sat across from him, hesitated, and took his hands into his own. He could feel them shaking slightly and when he looked up, he could tell Stanley was trying hard not to cry.

"Stanley...please. Just be honest. What happened to you?"

"It's- nothing." You wouldn't believe me hung heavy in the air between them.

"Was it the argument? Was I too harsh?" Ezra didn't want to hear the confirmation that he might've been the cause for this. He hadn't thought he pushed him too hard with his words. Perhaps it had been a mistake. Stanley had abandonment issues and maybe the break up left him more shaken up than Ezra had realized-

"No." The tremble in Stanley's voice disappeared. "No, it wasn't you, Ezra, don't think that. If anything, it was my fault. I was a shit boyfriend and an even shittier friend."

"Stanley-"

"No, let me talk." Stanley pulled his hands away. "You were right, you've always been. I was unfair to you, I was selfish and immature and only thought about my wants. I took advantage of your second chances again and again and you were right to tell me to stop my bullshit."

"Well..."

"I'm sorry, too." His voice grew softer. "I never thought I'd get this chance to say this but I'm sorry. Ezra, I love you. As a friend, as a soulmate, as whatever you want to call it. I know we're not boyfriends right now but please believe me I'm so sorry and I don't want to leave you."

"What...do you mean you never thought you'd get the chance to say it?" All he got as an answer was two armfuls of Stanley, holding onto him for dear life.

He returned the hug carefully, lost in the absurdity of the situation. It felt like a dream he wasn't aware he stumbled into. It felt like he had just narrowly avoided a horrible fate and the weight of the 'almost' was looming over them like storm clouds.

Stanley was still talking about how sorry he was and how he was going to get better, therapy, life coaches, mental hospitals, whatever you want I'll do it just don't kick me out tonight and he sounded so desperate Ezra almost believed that whatever happened to him was a type of horror he’ll never understand.

Logic told him it was just a very extreme case of depression. Perhaps he had been drinking. Perhaps he beaten himself up so much over these past two days that he had somehow driven himself to hysterics and if he really did mean it then he would have to prove himself.

But that night Stanley clung to him until he passed out in exhaustion and even in his sleep his grip was tight enough to suffocate.

He did stay true to his words. He threw out everything remotely harmful, even donated his rather impressive knife collection to a local thrift shop. He went to every doctor Ezra recommended to him and soon he was on meds again, getting weekly counsel sessions.

The doctors told him that Stanley was suffering from a type of extreme PTSD, one that couldn't be easily explained from his childhood. His parents had been neglectful, not violent and once they both graduated, their lives have been fairly normal.

Spencer was eventually put on anxiety medications. He was unbearably clingy, to the point where Ezra found him staring at the door when he came back from getting groceries or the mail.

He had nightmares too, ones he only vaguely described as feeling 'trapped' in. Nightmares that involve him losing Ezra in endless hallways, meeting monsters who wanted to tear him apart, watching himself die in various ways.

The source of these newfound problems remained unknown as Stanley stayed tight lipped, changing the subject whenever Ezra pried too hard. But despite the new wave of horror now haunting him, he didn't refuse treatment even once. And it was through their combined efforts he eventually got better. He stopped being scared of entering new buildings, stopped waking up in the middle of the night screaming, stopped going into a nervous fit whenever Ezra was out of his sight.

He found new hobbies, building little machines in his spare time and on the weekends they would spend hours hiking nearby trails.

They started dating again. Stanley's previous shyness about intimacy had all but disappeared and been replaced by neediness. He bared himself shamelessly, asking to be loved for every flaw and Ezra obliged.

Whatever happened was beyond his comprehension. He didn't know how someone could change so drastically and for the longest time he blamed himself for not seeing the signs earlier. That perhaps Stanley had always been like that and he had never noticed.

But there were little things that confused him. Every so often, when they were untangling in bed or just in the shower, he caught glimpses of unexplainable scars on Spencer's body. Scars that were deep and ugly, scars that told of violent deaths. Decapitation, disemboweling, torture, burn marks. A second look and they were gone.

Sometimes he felt an odd sort of calling when he was walking down the hallways of the hospital or his work office. A longing to open a door and step inside, see what could be on the other side. The one time he did, he found a broom closet where he was sure that hadn't been before and the energy radiating from it was so hungry he had closed it quickly and left.

Several times he caught glimpses of someone watching them while they were out in public. An impossibly tall figure in a suit, a smiling woman in an exceptionally colorful dress who looked a little too much like Stanley used to look when he still had long hair, a man in an overcoat and a top hat. None of them ever approached and Ezra was strangely relieved.

As the treatments carried on, Stanley found his lively spark again. He insisted on being called Bradley, ('Brat-ley' he explained proudly) and tried his hardest to live up to the name.

It didn't bother Ezra, however. They were happy. Alive, well and happy.

And that's all that mattered.

#drabble #backwards au #one of the bradleys who came home #ezra jaxden #the good ending #this is very self indulgent but i hope its not too rambly nonetheless

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 138 prt 2

“I don’t think I want to imagine that”

Mami would have rocked it. Keith imagined her sneaking her chocolates with a bottle of vodka giving the double finger to Sendak if she could have. Chocolates and her abundant supply of love were the only two things she zero self control over. Lance nodded, sucking down a breath, tone slightly dejected before levelling then growing wobbly

“Probably safer... but, yeah. I... the family gave me a lot of things that she’d left behind when we moved. I tried to go to the nursing home, you know, to thank them, but Coran made me stay in for observation. Luis cleaned her room out and took her things. He had the nerve to lose it at me for paying for her funeral...”

Lance started shaking again in his arms. Keith rubbing the top of his arm as if he was trying to warm him up

“Babe. Don’t go there. Luis isn’t your responsibility”

“I know, but without Mami... I won’t hear about them again”

That was true. Luis wouldn’t be rushing to call

“Pidge could change that. She can stalk down thin air and pull up all its credit card charges”

“I think Pidge would bite his ankles in real life if she knew. I wanted to... to be able to talk to them at the funeral, but Coran pulled enough magic to get me there as it was... and I wasn’t ready yet. She and Papi are together now. I wanted her buried in Garrison, but she’s in Platt. I’m talking too much”

Lance wasn’t talking too much. He’d held all this in as he waited for Keith to come home to him. He was glad Lance was telling him what he wanted in his own words instead of by letter

“You’re not. You miss your mum. From what you’ve said, you’ve made a lot of good memories”

“I suppose. I mean, I did. I know I’m very lucky I had all this time with her... really lucky considering all things. I wish I hadn’t broken my phone”

“Shouldn’t it back up?”

“I don’t know how it really works. It’s like one of your Blade phones but it’s pin locked instead of iris encoded. Laptop’s kind of the same. It’s a Coran special”

“We can ask him”

“I hope it’s backed up... I need to stop talking about this... I can’t... I’ve been so whiny. Even when I came back from Sendak, through to now, my mental health’s been shit and all I’ve done is worry everyone. Four months isn’t like long for a vampire but it is for a human”

“I literally think you’re entitled to let it out”

“I keep showing... I keep showing the wrong sides”

There were no wrong sides to Lance. Okay. Maybe 4 months wasn’t that long to a vampire but it was a fucking looooong arse four months. They’d barely had three weeksish before he was off to Rome... meaning... it was like 6 weeks he’d had quality time with Mami... and shy of a month since her passing.

Lance was allowed to have feelings. His feelings made him who he was. It wasn’t like Keith didn’t feel guttered over the loss of Mami too. He kind of wanted to just lock Lance away and cry until his head throbbed and the pain was gone

“Because I’m so much better?”

“You are. I haven’t asked you much about Europe. I haven’t asked if you’re okay. I haven’t asked how things went down. I haven’t asked about the court case or this thing about Lotor killing Zarkon. I... haven’t... even asked you... how anyone is...”

“Babe. I only got in last night. This is our first proper conversation. I want to know what you’re feeling and thinking”

“I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling. Running seems so much easier. But... then there’s all the things I’m waiting to hear back about. Mami’s will. Her accounts. What to do with her things she’a got stored at home. If the nursing home got the flowers I sent as a thank you for all they did for her. If I chose the right clothes Mami. If I did the right thing. If it wasn’t her time to go and I did nothing...”

Lance kept telling himself to shut up. To stop talking about Mami. That Keith had been through so much away from him that he was probably more tired than he was letting on. He tried to shut up but he couldn’t not think about Mami. She’d adored Keith. She kept a photo of him on her nightstand. Well, it was him, Keith and an ultrasound photo between them.

When Keith started leading him away from the kitchen, Lance didn’t want to move. He had to have breakfast, have his shot, then have something actual to eat. Instead Keith tugged him along, pulling him down to sit in his lap on the sofa. That Keith had come back was a miracle. That he’d stayed... Lance couldn’t describe how much he’d needed to see Keith. Then he went and ruined things because he couldn’t stop thinking about his Mami...

“You’re overthinking”

Geez. No shit. He’d expected a joyous reunion with Keith. Mami teasing them. Not Keith coming home to this. He wanted to feel happy so badly, but Keith... Keith made it too easy. He’d feared last night they’d never talk again as they had. Now he’d word vomit... after too much actual vomit

“I think I’m... not being strong enough”

He’d cried as he confessed his sins to his Mami. How he’d killed Sendak. His Mami taking his hands and telling him that it wasn’t fair for him to be blaming himself. She went to church with him. Before God he’d prayed. He’d confessed everything, as if it’d offer some absolution for his sins. He did feel marginally better when he didn’t burst into flames. It was hard to accept that the world was safer by taking a life. Mami pointing out that Sendak was the worst of everything a vampire could be, though she got it. She got that he grieved not for the monster he’d killed but at the loss of Sendak ever changing his ways. Vampires didn’t really work that way, but she... she got it because she wasn’t a hunter. She could see that he was worse than Nyma and Rolo, but she could see that he felt worse about the actual ending of potential than killing the monster inside Sendak’s skin. She was a better therapist than Coran.

They’d headed to the beach that morning, after his nightmare. Blazing hot sun didn’t exactly lure vampires out for a spot of sun baking and spontaneous combustion between snacking on the necks of tourists. Setting up the umbrella, chairs and fetching drinks, they’d settled down and Mami had told him about his first time swimming there. Rachel carried him everywhere. Made him a “hat” out of seaweed. He’d screamed and screamed, until Mami took it off his head. The sun had felt amazing. He wasn’t too pregnant looking, so he enjoyed taking his shirt off, only to burn himself for his efforts. Mami had laughed at him as she rubbed aloe vera on his sunburn.

It’d been hard to hear about times when they’d been so happy together. Just kids doing kid things. But a lot of Mami’s stories he hadn’t heard before, and some stories he heard over and over yet didn’t mind in the slightest. She was so proud of her brood. Making all these future plans and laughing over how he and Keith were going to be clumsy parents, but that was okay because no one knew what they were doing at first.

“You’re strong. You’re so strong”

Keith kissed his cheek. Lance knew he was starved of physical affection. He knew because he’d been depriving himself of it. He felt like “King Douche” that his boyfriend came back to this. That he needed to stiffen his upper lip and carry on. He knew he’d been a total dick not contacting Pidge or Hunk, but to begin with it’d been for their safety. He hadn’t let them see him at VOLTRON, though knowing they were also grieving Mami’s loss. Asking for more space on top of so much space already granted to him seemed incredibly selfish. He loved Pidge and Hunk, but it was like with Sendak again, he was scared of losing himself in his grief and hurting them.

He’d never wished he was more human than in the aftermath of that shit with Sendak. Lance knew if it was his friends going through this he’d be telling them it was okay. To let go. To grieve for as long as they needed and that he’d be there the whole time for when they were ready. But that didn’t apply to him. He had... he had o carry himself a certain way... anxiety fed paranoia that if he wasn’t the perfect friend they’d never speak to him again. Keith... Keith just... all he had to do was breathe and Lance was falling more in love with him. He’s tried building his walls back up when he set his mind to Keith never coming for him, but all his walls were sandcastles, crumbling under Keith’s feet as he trampled over Lance’s attempts and wrapped him up in love. He... he’d been so awkward and embarrassed how easily he’d caved into Keith. Now Keith was taking the time to fix his broken bits. His boyfriend hated the tourist masses but that was Varadero’s main source of income.

Placing his hand on his belly, Lance settled his breathing back down slowly. Keith didn’t hate his belly. He’d felt their twins starting to move. Like little has bubbly gas bubbles. When he’d spotted blood coupled with weird stomach pain, he’d thought he was dying but his Mami explained to him about things stretching and moving to make space. Coran was worried about his body not being strong enough to make it to term. Despite brewing in a vampire filled with vampire blood, both their kids returned human DNA. Never did he want another long arse needle in there again. Their babies passed their genetics tests. They just had to put up with him and Keith now

“Babe?”

“It’s okay. You said you wanted to see Cuba?”

“Well I came all this way. I’ve never been here before and I’m already madly in love with my tour guide”

Lance groaned at his boyfriend. If Keith turned that charm on everyone he’d probably be an unstoppable conman of the highest degree. His ego loved the flattery. He and it had many an mental disagreement. Now Keith was fanning it back to life

“You’re a menace. I have to eat. I’ve... been going through the motions but I have to eat before we go out. And... we’ll drive. I’ll drive. I don’t have much to hide this bump”

“I don’t mind it. I think it’s cute”

“The world isn’t ready for a pregnant vampire and his lover. This is Cuba. I’ve got a jumper I use if I absolutely can’t avoid going out...”

“In this heat?”

“You get the boyfriend with a covered outside or you get the boyfriend inside with the bump showing. You can’t have both”

“I definitely want both. I love your stomach. You looked so good bouncing on my dick with that bump showing”

Lance choked on air. Keith was a damn horn dog!

“I’m going to punch you in the dick if you don’t start thinking things through. I’m going to put you in “Horny Hunter Jail” if you don’t settle down”

Keith shrugged

“I can live with that”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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