#once i get that vaccine my friends are going to have to give me daily hugs i s2g

[the-whispers-of-death]

im decently sure you're about ready to put me in the trash bin but you said you wanted to hear about ocs and you're the only one i can ramble to so

more fun times between your ocs and my ocs:

in a misguided attempt at "friendship" Selga once brought Sarabi a rabbit he hunted. just kinda came up to him, covered in blood with the rabbit in his mouth and dropped it in front of Sarabi like "here, is for you". Simba and Nala were the unfortunate witnesses to Selgas insane finger strength as they watched him climb up a tree by digging his fingers into the bark to pull himself up. when they first met Selga DID NOT want to be around Stone he thought Stone was too large and his glare wasn't helping so Selga was hissing a lot (everytime Stone talked to a memeber of the group Selga was in the background giving him laser eyes)

while everyone was climbing into the back of a truck (the open back kind) one of the lions was struggling to get in(for whatever reason) so Hazzard grabs them by the scruff and lifts them into the truck because he would do that for the members of his group, mainly Void. The lions get to witness Void being thrown by everyone because he's very light and everyone thinks it's fun to throw him and it's fun for him to be thrown. (Void gets tossed around like a ball)

Vaccine and Dartboard terrorise Kali by coming up behind him and blowing into his ears then running away laughing

Stone and Hazzard become semi friends but they mostly just sit beside one another in silence

Lader(pls correct me if i spelled that wrong), a confident queen, teaches Diana, a not confident queen, how to be more confident

now for the menace. this is how i imagine a meeting between experiment Stone and Johan would go (Stone can't run away he has to face the menace):

*Johan sees experiment Stone* oh wow look at you :) aren't you an interesting find? :) a mix of human and tiger DNA.... fascinating :) tell me. how does that impact your daily life? *pets Stones ear gently* is your hearing sensitive? :) do you have a prey drive? what about water? are you a good swimmer? :) do you get an urge to pounce on people? *Johan dodges a swipe from Stone when he tries to pet Stones tail* do you get... seasons? :) i know it's rather inappropriate to ask but it's quite interesting to find out about how animal DNA could impact a humans inner workings including reproduction :) :) :) :) :)

(Johan keeps questioning Stone until Hazzard comes to drag him off and save poor Stone from the torment)

Sarabi would gladly accept the rabbit Selga offered to him. How very kind of him to find Sarabi food.

Nala and Simba are impressed that Selga can just climb a tree by digging his fingers into the bark. Would he be willing to teach them how to do that too?

Stone is watching Selga hiss at him every time he's near one of the team members and he's just confused. Will he reach out to Selga? Probably not, considering he just doesn't want to push Selga into liking him.

Hazzard definitely has to help Nala get into the vehicle, because while he is tall (he's 6ft), he's not really as fast as the others because his legs are just a bit shorter. So yeah, Hazzard, just throw him into the back of the vehicle when you're all trying to escape quickly. Also, I think Kali would join in carrying Void around (he wouldn't throw him because that's too bold for him to do so).

Kali is shocked when Vaccine and Dartboard are messing with him, because usually he's the menace. So it's time for him to join in on the fun, prank the twins.

Sitting beside someone silently and just enjoying their presence is such a Stone thing to do. He loves just sitting with Hazzard.

Ladder when she notices Diana being not so confident: I'll help you. You're so beautiful and you deserve to feel like you know it.

Experiment!Stone is wondering if he could eat Johan before Johan can poke and prod him. He's already had scientists poke and prod him, hence what got him in this mess in the first place. I don't know if Johan or Experiment!Stone is the more lucky one when Hazzard comes to drag Johan away.

#tyler's asks #tyler's inbox #tyler answers asks #answering asks #asks #other ocs #oc talk #:)

[beanmom]

I am about at my FUCKING breaking point rn. Found out yesterday The George Cat is diabetic, so my husband and I are going in this afternoon to learn how to give him twice-daily insulin injections and naturally I'm lowkey freaking out about what this will entail and whether I can ever be away from my house for more than 12 hours at a time for the rest of his life. (Luckily I'm not squeamish about needles and Georgie never even flinches when he's getting his vaccinations, so at least that's not a big worry at the moment.)

Younger kid, currently in Turkey with her Norwegian guy, is undergoing all kinds of bullshit related to the friend they were staying with, who unexpectedly altered their "stay as long as you like" invitation to "get out by the 9th," and what that all means vis a vis visas, flights, etc. Also last week they started researching what actions they'll need to take and forms they'll need to file to move towards marriage, and that made me pretty sad. It's not like she interacts much with me when she's stateside even though we live in the same house, but having her permanently on another continent will break my heart a little bit anyway.

Older kid ran their cute little 2012 hatchback over a fuckin tire in the middle of the highway on Monday night, causing a cascade of issues and headaches and dealings with insurance, and they're ping-ponging erratically between Adulting Very Well About It and then suddenly giving me the 😳 face about making a simple and crucial phone call, and I'm doing everything I possibly can to hold their hand through this because they are autistic and anxious and depressed but SO AM I goddammit. We're still working on getting it to a garage, waiting to find out if there's damage we don't yet know about that could cause the thing to be totaled, which would mean suddenly having to help them shop for a car, which is A Lot to be hit with out of nowhere.

And I'm not sleeping well and haven't been for months because I get hot flashes like every 1-2 hours all night that wake me up, and then of course lately once I'm awake I'm reminded of The Horrors, and I spent half last night just fucking SHAKING in my bed, not sure if it was from bad temperature control or terror, probably some of both.

#personal crap #the george cat #parenting #menopause

[strawberrypucklecopeandseethe]

So huuuuge tw for ableism and emotional abuse. Also mention of alleged attempted murder

I’m going to give my actually autistic and ND fellows some advice.

We’re often told and even *trained* to believe everything is our fault and others feelings are too. This is not surprisingly bad and is bad for anyone’s mental health.

This leads to a really toxic mindset pushed on people which might be rooted in good intentions, but is really great for manipulative, downright nasty people. The idea that if you keep trying with someone and make a genuine effort to do your best and please them, you’ll soon enough prove you’re worthy to be treated like anyone else! If someone is rejecting you, it’s you and you alone.

This bothers decent human beings(I lost friends due to this mindset). But it makes you very appealing to manipulative, abusive types.

Then there’s the idea parents of autistic people know best and have it so hard. Some parents are truly ignorant and swept up a culture of hate. This doesn’t mean you’re responsible for those feelings either.

Their children are broken and defective and difficult. If you can type and express yourself you NEVER had or have these challenges like being nonspeaking/semispeaking, toileting, sensory challenges and help with daily life then you’ll never understand. As if high support needs and suffering means someone’s life isn’t a life.

Then there are people who are swept up in the power they get from others. Some more ignorant parents will cry about lack of services and many have the right to, but this still doesn’t make dehumanization right.

Once someone starts using insults against you that are related to your diagnosis, keep in mind. You’re not *really* autistic but they’ll use it against you anyways. They believe due to social hierarchy they are right and whatever they say is right. Like claiming you didn’t read something right. They’re superior to you no matter what. You can’t prove yourself, it would break their power.

These people will attack autistic people who suggest nonverbal people can communicate in other ways. If you ask enough questions, you might find said people trying to fuck with you, gaslight you and will hate you no matter what. Yet they demand you act nice. These parents are not interested in their child’s humanity. Pseudoscience groups are great for people like this, allowing them to use concepts like anti vaccination and brain damage to look like they care while claiming these children are completely utterly broken.

Now i’m going into attempted murder allegations

It’s not the first time. I want to give one example and why this kind of behavior shouldn’t be shoved off as a stressed out parent or SHOCKER something the autistic person did right away.

I’ve met a few people like this. I just encountered one today and am glad to know now it’s not my fault nor responsibility. Said person started saying I was “not following well” and telling me to “prove” they were upset about accessibility recommendations. After providing receipts of our conversations, they still claimed I was imagining things.

A 14 year old autistic girl that my mom’s colleague was involved in teaching had a family who could use some support. We met her and the mom, everything seemed ok at the time. Her sister had higher support needs, her dad had a job that left the mom by herself for half a month. She has similar interests to me and wanted to learn to cook, which both of us were looking forward to doing.

We’d come over three times a week, have the kiddo come over my mom’s home or go out somewhere. But it turned out we were supposed to go to her home while she played computer games to supervise. Her mom didn’t even want me to join her in multiplayer games. No learning to cook either, it would encourage her to make a mess. Not even at my mom’s home or offers of helping to clean up. Kiddo’s mom fired my mom.

Mom’s colleague got a call from kiddo’s mom saying she needed an emergency mental health break. She could have 72 hours to go out and cool off. She wanted three weeks. My mom’s colleague asked what was wrong that she needed that much time. Apparently she wanted to go on an international trip. Mom’s colleague was angry and said this service was for the safety of parents and disabled children. Then there was a speech about how hard she had it.

It also turned out kiddo’s mom sorta lied about being involved with teaching kiddo better coping skills. Which explains why it wasn’t working well, kiddo would just be told to go upstairs and play on the computer.

I got a very sad email. She was sad and was gonna miss me and why did her mom hate her? I couldn’t talk to her anymore by association because my mom had the nerve to believe in her.

Then we got a call from mom’s colleague. Kiddo was having a psychotic break. Kiddo’s mom tried to play dumb and claim it was autism. Hospital staff did tests

Her medication levels showed she had been given 4 times the safe dose of her daily meds for some time. Kiddo’s mom insisted she tried to off herself. Then there was evidence it was the kiddo’s mom. Dad came home as soon as he could and he was horrified. Last thing I know was that there was a court case, but dad was divorcing kiddo’s mom and trying to take away kiddo’s mom’s custody regardless. She did admit to it with “I get tired of her, she has too much energy and wanted to do things.”

I don’t know if the allegations were proved in court, but regardless both kids weren’t safe. Due to kiddo being a minor, she has the right legally and morally to privacy. I hope she’s ok where ever she is and her higher support needs sister too.

Neither of them deserved that. Beware of people who attack people perceived as “high functioning” for being able to type.

#I just spit this out and my stomach hurts #I wrote a lot today but tomorrow I’ll probably not type much #actually autistic #parents who do this are also unkind to parents who need help to be the best with children that have more needs #tw ableism #tw abuse #tw neglect #tw attempted murder #I never met the sister and apparently mom felt embarrassed by her existence #lots of 14 year old teens want to do things and are energetic #if you think this is understandable in any way #I don’t want to get banned

[simeonisalesbian]

Safe Beelzebub x MC

Is writing self-indulgent fluff a coping mechanism? Well uh anyways here's Wonderwall... As always gender-neutral MC. Warnings for skipping meals and just generally self-deprecating thoughts. Enjoy all the same. Words: 802

Mc laid on their bed staring at the stack of work that was sitting on their desk across the room. There were at least two assignments that had to be done before class tomorrow, an essay due by the end of the week, a test that needed to be studied for, and to top it all off there was some random paperwork Lucifer passed down to them about their time in the exchange program. It all needed to be done and yet Mc laid there staring at it all uselessly.

Useless useless useless.

Mc pulled the blanket over their head as if that would help shut up their own brain. Everything felt like too much right now and the thought of moving made them want to throw up. And yet their brain was still working against them trying to bully them into doing the work on their desk.

There was a soft knock on the door. Or at least it sounded soft to them since it seemed to come from miles away.

“Mc? It’s dinner. You weren’t answering your phone.” It was Beel’s voice coming from the doorway.

Mc peeked their head out from the blankets to glance at the phone sitting on the desk, next to the work that had to get done. They felt their stomach churn at the thought. How can they eat when they haven't even touched their work. Had they really been laying there since they got home? The light from the hallway was starting to make their headache.

“I’ll eat later, ‘kay?” Their voice sounded tired and weak and not at all convincing. We’re they actually going to eat later? Probably not. But they had to say something to keep the demon from dragging them out of their room.

“Are you sure?” Beel sounded concerned and looked unconvinced. His worry just caused Mc to feel even more guilty. What sort of monster disappoints Beelzebub?

They decided to just pull the blankets back over their head giving the demon a soft ‘mhmm’ hoping that he’d leave.

When the door softly clicked shut they let out a choked sob. Why were they crying? They told him they were fine. They didn’t want to be comforted but at the same time, they did. They wanted to be dragged out of the room and be told to eat but the thought of that made them sick.

Their stomach let out a low growl. When was the last time they ate something? They slept through breakfast to cling on to a few minutes of sleep and they only had a small snack for lunch skipping an actual meal to study between classes. They should eat. They knew they should eat. Just like they should do their work. They can’t eat until they do their work. They don't deserve to eat until they do their work. Instead, they just sat there hugging a pillow to cry into for what somehow felt like both only seconds and several years.

Eventually, they felt two arms pull them into a hug. When did the door even open? They tried to focus on who could be holding them but their brain was fuzzy and they were still sobbing into the pillow they held in a death grip. They felt the person humming more than actually hearing them. They focused on the soft vibrations and tried to catch their breath before pulling the pillow away from their face.

They looked up to see Beel’s worried expression staring back at them. He must have come back to check on them after dinner.

“Are you okay?” They wanted to say yes. But staring into Beel’s eye’s they couldn’t find the heart to lie to him. So instead they shook their head before burying their head into the demon’s chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

When Mc opened their mouth to reply nothing came out. So instead they just shook their head again. They felt Beel move and instinctively wrapped their arms around him silently pleading for him to stay.

“Not going anywhere don’t worry.” He said as if he read their mind. He moved around a bit more before settling down again. He tapped Mc’s back prompting them to sit up again. “Here.” He held a plate of food in front of them.”I asked my brothers and none of them have seen you eat today. I was worried you were going to starve so I tried to save you some dinner. It’s probably cold now though. Sorry.”

The food was in fact cold. However, after crying for god knows how long they couldn’t find it in them to actually care. It felt nice to eat. It felt nice to be cared for. Beel’s arms were warped around them again like a nice safe cocoon. They were safe.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me x reader #beelzebub x mc #beel x mc #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #beelzebub x reader #hiding my feels in the tags #school is a lot #its better than last semester but falling back into bad habits #want to be held so fuckin bad #once i get that vaccine my friends are going to have to give me daily hugs i s2g

[lezziemanville]

Okay so I’m going to put this here because I wanted to put it somewhere and I probably only have 4 people that still read this blog and it’s night time so even less….

But I’m struggling right now with mental health in relation to what I’m assuming is a break in my capacity to handle life. Ordinarily, I go inward, am silently upset and then move on but I’ve really just broken over the last week and in going back I remember the last time I felt relatively stress free, ironically is after I moved to a whole different country and while planning my wedding.

Then the timeline went :

1. We find out our home is to be listed for sale, and my wife will be forced into retirement when it does. It doesn’t sell for 7 years which begins a process of constant uncertainty. At this time I’m also in the immigration process.

2. Our gentle giant Mocha is diagnosed with cancer and fails within months.

3. The unqualified President is elected.

4. Thomas Fire slowly moves closer to home over a week and eventually causes us to have to evacuate in the middle of the night with 7 pets in carriers.

5. Rains come after the fire and cause a “200 year event” mudslide that kills 26 people including neighbors all around us.

6. My wife’s 16 year old cat dies of cancer and liver failure after giving him fluids daily for weeks.

7. My dad’s best friend for his entire life (and mine) dies unexpectedly.

8. Ranch sells after years of stress relating to it and we have to move to temporary housing with our herd of pets.

9. January 6 - I lose faith in our country.

10. My beloved heart dog’s arthritis gets so bad he begins falling down and I have to make the hard decision to put him down at 16 years old.

11. Pandemic - literally full isolation as my wife is high risk.

12. Cat diagnosed with cancer. Given 5 months but he’s still here a year later.

13. My immune compromised, thrice vaccinated dad gets Covid, is turned away from the hospital twice (even once arriving by ambulance) before finally being admitted the third time. We’re told it doesn’t look good. We’re told later he most definitely almost died. He stays in ICU for weeks. He’s still sick.

14. Russia invades Ukraine - I lose faith in the world.

—

Now I’m not asking for sympathy, we’re all going through it 100% and I am living in the USA, I’m not sheltering from warfare or running for my life. I have food, water, health and a home. I have a job, and am not worried about not being able to provide for my family.

What I am asking for, if anyone is reading this, is for your coping methods. How do you personally get up each day and go forward with life while managing the stress we’re all under?

Something my friends know about me, is that I’ve always had a life-long fear of end of days scenarios so being hit with the constant news articles about the possibilities are really just the finishing hit for me.

I don’t want to come across as whining about personal feelings when others have it so much harder than me, but I also genuinely want tips on how to reframe this, with PTSD constantly on board, so that I can just manage the thoughts and still feel like I can get up and shower and go to work.

Love to all of you. I hope you’re safe and hanging in there yourselves.

#please don’t reblog #she speaks and the sound of her voice

[buttercupsfrocks]

Well, Tumblr, it's here, and 2021 better take care to avoid the door giving it's arse an almightly thwack on the way out.

Sooo, guess who had a Covid scare just before Christmas? Cockily I'd dared to attend a tiny works do. Ten of us in the office for a couple of hours with tea and stickies, including home made brownies, a Portuguese King Cake, and designer donuts, be still my beating heart. I have been into the office precisely once over the last 22 months and hadn't even met one of my newer colleagues face to face. Plus we were doing Secret Santa. So I thought what the hell, especially as I'd just started a new p/t teaching job in East London and had twice tubed it home during rush hour, albeit appropriately clad in an FPP2. Hah! That'll learn me to de-mask and eat dainties. The following day, the colleague I'd been sitting next to for the duration tested positive, followed by a second the day after, who reckoned his daughter had brought it back from school. Cue me back in social isolation for ten days because OMG-icron, taking daily lateral flow tests and, after being pinged by the dreaded track 'n' trace, a PCR. This was just before our blithering shipwreck of a PM succeeded in terrifying the country to such an extent that, for a while, there was no longer a testing kit to be had in the UK. Somehow I remained negative throughout so yay Pfizer, I guess.

Since 2021 had begun with my losing a beloved family member to Covid, I'm relieved to see the back of it. Let's hope the virus continues to morph into ever less deadly mutations during 2022, and thank God and/or science for vaccines. The NHS and Big Pharma can stick me thrice a year in perpetuity if need be.

It hasn't all been bad mind. Ever since this nightmare kicked off I'd harboured a fantasy of celebratory dancing with friends. It was a means of keeping myself sane in a world I no longer recognised; what I'd do one day when all this was over. Well, obviously, it's not over (yet) but at least things improved, albeit slowly for those of us with underlying conditions. And in October, just in the nick of time, I did get to throw some shapes outside of the confines of my flat.

I won't lie, I was nervous at the prospect of travelling out of London to attend the wedding of a long time friend, especially as I knew there'd be almost a hundred guests – but lemme tell you, je ne regret rien. While I have seen my bestie in the interim, there were others in attendance I hadn't seen since well before Covid and it was wonderful to spend time with them. We made a weekend of it and I loved every minute. Plus the (Willy Wonka themed) wedding itself was amazing. And, yes, of course I cried. So did Karen. And one of the grooms. In fact I strongly doubt there was a dry eye in the house.

Of course it's all buckle-up-and here-we-go-again now but I remain uncharacteristically optimistic. And I've learned to cherish the mundane and previously taken for granted. Like dancing to Tiger Feet with your mates.

Seriously how cute is this sweater? I had no idea Skinny Dip made clothes, much less clothes in size Fat. I watched it for months as it got further and further reduced, eventually bagging it for fifteen quid. Not bad since it started off at thirty-five. It's also incredibly warm considering it doesn't have a scintilla of actual wool in it. My only regret is that I can't accessorise it with my shrimp earrings as they're entirely the wrong shade of pink. Mind you that would go against my personal fashion rule of no more than one eccentric/novelty/I'm-Mad-Me component to an outfit, so it's probably just as well.

I have ordered a couple of items to wear in the current sales, including yet another Monki puff-sleeved frock, (this time in a red Madras seersucker), that I ordered to wear on Christmas Day a fair bit in advance. Hermes, the devil's own courier company, assured me they'd be delivering it several days in advance too, only to send me another email moments later saying "an exception" had occurred so they wouldn't. I later learned from Monki Custromer Services that this is code for "Hermes lost my parcel" after they suddenly refunded me for a return I hadn't even seen, never mind returned. I then had to re-order the bastard after Christmas in the fond hope it might arrive in time for spring. As ill luck would have it Hermes are also the courier favoured by Oliver Bonas, from whom I ordered the softest, cosiest, oversized, baby pink cardi to go with my rainbow pastel culottes, (see my previous post). Let's hope they don't have another "exception" because there are currently no more left in my size.

Pray for me, Tumblr. It's shot through with silver thread so fine it shimmers, and has diamanté buttons and star shapes knitted into the design. I wanted it so badly I'd resolved to pay full price if it didn't make it into the sale.

#FATSHION #PLUS SIZE STYLE #OOTD #Older lady style #ASOS #Skinny Dip #Ecco #Snag Tights

[ffhseries]

Tales of Far From Home: Winds of Change

da link

Escape had always been on my mind.

Since day one of my arrival, I knew I had to escape as soon as I could.

The first month of my stay in this horrendous world was spent in a giant’s pet shop. Not that I knew that at first: my first 2 weeks were spent in the backroom with the shop clerks and shop stock. A need for quarantine, and vaccinations, and being “handled” to grow accustomed to the monsters around me. Not that I would ever become used to being held in a giant’s fist, let alone by ones who saw me as something to be kept and pampered over. Not that I wanted to get used to this world at all. I’m still not sure why I’m here. I learned the “how” after a while: a random act of magic snatching me off the street in Dublin, Ireland, only to wind up in a gigantic world. Filled with immense creatures who saw us as pests or vermin or…pets.

The shop clerks were used to “handling” humans it seemed. Or, at least, one of them was. The other seemed all too eager and impatient with us. Yes. “Us”. I wasn’t the only one in that pet shop. A handful of us were kept near the storefront window to catch the sun and eyes of the passersby. Puppies and kittens and colorful budgerigars were kept in the main display, but “we” were never too far away.

Knowing I wasn’t alone in this predicament was comforting and sickening all at once. Matters weren’t helped when I learned I was the only one interested in escape.

“Are you out of your mind?” a woman, Daisy, asked when I made the suggestion one day. They kept us separate enough: women on one side, men on the other. More “social” and “friendly” people were kept in groups while some were in their own cages. I was one of the latter. I would never give these giants the satisfaction if I could help it.

Daisy, it seemed, wasn’t on the same page.

“We can’t stay here, this is insane! And dehumanizing!” I whispered, though none of the giants were nearby. I didn’t know just how keen their hearing truly was and didn’t want to risk it. “I…we shouldn’t stay trapped here!”

“Who says we’re trapped? Or for long?” Daisy tried to argue. “Just because you don’t like it here doesn’t mean we all do.”

“And you think I’M out of my mind?” I countered.

“Don’t take it personal, kid.” a voice interjected from beside me. “She was born into this. She’s never known any different.”

“Wait, you’re from Earth? THE Earth? AMAZING!” Daisy interrupted with renewed vigor. “What’s it like?”

To say I was defeated was an understatement. I ignored both their inquiries at that point. If I was going to get out of there, it would have to be on my own.

That’s how she found me.

Slumped in a corner of “my” cage: pathetic, downtrodden, and dispirited. I must have looked quite the sight.

“I’ll take him!” a voice stated, as an annoying tapping started. It was enough to catch my attention, not that I could’ve avoided it otherwise. “He looks like he could use a friend!”

It didn’t take long to start missing the pet shop.

Originally, I was glad to be away from all the eyes and sounds and gaping expressions that came with being an object in a retail store. Some peace and quiet for once, even if it meant I would be alone with her. There was plenty to fear from being in the presence of a singular giant monster that didn’t have concerns about supervisor oversight or daily goals to achieve or a business score to keep up. I had no idea what her true intentions would be.

It would turn out her intentions were selfish and shallow. I was bought to heal her “broken heart” from a recent break-up. She thought buying a “companion pet”, a human, a PERSON, would help her feel less lonely.

I almost believed her.

Until it became painfully obvious why she was “lonely”.

“BYE MATE SEE YOU LATER!” she’d call out as she left the apartment for the day.

In the pet shop, as humiliating as it was, at least the clerks were sure to check up on us. Made sure we were fed, we weren’t feeling ill, had stuff to preoccupy ourselves, and other such things. Even when the shop was closed for the night, they made sure we -critter and person alike- had what we needed until morning.

This woman barely made the effort. My cage had the minimum requirements: a cushion bed, a shower and toilet, and a ball. The pet shop was nowhere near as sterile and empty a set-up as this “forever home”.

Not that she paid much attention after that first day. She made sure I was fed before she left for work or parties or whatever nonsense she did, but not much else. It seemed she saw me more as some goldfish to barely bother with then as an intelligent creature that needed interaction. Let alone consider me a person. To call her a negligent pet owner would be too kind.

The only thing that kept me sane, or entertained at least, was the fact my cage was set in front of a window. The closest thing to genuine kindness she would ever offer. Outside the window, beyond the rooftops and towers of the city, just past the train station, was the only thing that held my interest: an airfield.

I wasn’t sure what kind of transportation I was expecting in this world. They were giants, who knew magic, and didn’t seem to have anything like computers or television. Would everything be horse-drawn carriages and railroads? Surely airplanes or flying carpets wouldn’t be littering the air as well?

And they weren’t. But they did have airships.

Not aircraft likes blimps or dirigibles or zeppelins. No, these were very much the standard fantasy fair that comes to mind with a word like “airship”. Large balloons were attached by rigging and netting to galleons and cartels and cruise liners and yachts and many more. It was the last thing I expected to see, frankly.

It was a beautiful sight to see the ships landing and refilling their envelopes -the balloons- and taking off all day long.

It was heartbreaking as well.

The day I arrived in this world, the day I was taken away from all I knew and loved by thunder and magic and fate, was the day I was supposed to start my new job. I was fresh out of university, had landed the interview and aced it, ready to start my career at one of Ireland’s largest aeronautics firms. A life of analyzing and designing and building all sorts of aircrafts was within my reach.

But I was here instead. Stuck in a cage. As a pet. And in clear view of the closest thing I could possibly enjoy in this wretched place, but never touch.

Imagining how the airships were built, how the envelopes were filled so quickly, what they were filled with, where they were travelling: these questions, these daydreams, were what got me through each dreary, quiet day.

Escape was still on my mind. Don’t ever doubt that. But resources were limited, and chances were few.

She barely checked in on me, after all.

She had a name. I had it memorized since the day she bought me from the shop and introduced herself as my “new big buddy”. But she didn’t deserve to be named. Not when she couldn’t be bothered to use mine. I knew she knew what my name was. I knew she had the paperwork with all my “essential” information on it. The pet shop clerks had been thorough about that: made sure my name was recorded and spelt correctly, noted my allergies (none, but still), and anything else a “new owner” might need to know. It was the only thing that gained the smallest iota of respect I could’ve had for those clerks.

She hadn’t mentioned my name once. Not even made up one in its place. Not even a nickname. She hardly acknowledged my existence.

That changed when Parvati showed up.

She had gotten back together with her ex-girlfriend about a week or two after I was “settled” in. The girlfriend took more of an interest in me, at least.

“Oh! Hello there!” she greeted when she caught sight of me and my set-up. A gentle wave was offered when she saw me flinch at the greeting. Her voice was softer when she spoke afterwards. “I’m Parvati. Who might you be?”

I saw no reason at the time not to tell her.

“Ostador. Ostador Fogg.” I replied.

Parvati would end up being my saving grace.

Even if it was also the start of an even more frustrating environment. See, there was a reason Parvati and her were an on-again-off-again couple. They would be fine for a few days, only for something to set off an argument that ignited into a full-blown row. Parvati would storm off, she would be surly for a few days in the apartment, only to have the pair make-up again. And again. And again.

I found myself the cause of some of these arguments, though not on purpose.

Parvati took to adding to “my” cage more than she did. I am loathe to say it was becoming cozy and livable with her additions. A couch, some artificial plants -from a doll house, I had to assume-, and a better water closet set-up made it more hospitable. Parvati even crocheted a life-sized rabbit she dubbed “Bunny Friend”. It wasn’t the most expertly crafted creation, but I had a small appreciation for the sentiment and the effort. At least it meant someone was thinking of me in that damned flat.

It was these new additions and supplies that helped me start stockpiling for my escape. Bits and pieces from the new “toys” and furniture would help create a grapple and a crude bag. “Bunny Friend” was undoubtedly the best resource: he was made of yarn after all. Giant-made, giant-sized, giant-strength yarn. It was enough to hold me for whatever I decided next: whether it was escape from this cage or from this life.

She didn’t like the attention Parvati was giving me. Less so the lectures Parvati would give on “proper human care”. One of their biggest blow-ups came when Parvati came over one day with a few books. I watched as she struggled to shrink them down and set them inside my cage for me. It was a small gesture but one I would appreciate. She was careful not to get too close, and moved slowly. Parvati knew I still flinched at their loud noises and their large, sudden movements.

“Thought you might like these.” she explained once the book stack was set down. I waited until she withdrew her hand and the door was latched before I made a move toward them. “I mean, I hope you do. I figured they might catch your fancy.”

“Are these…books about airships?” I asked, looking them over. “And trains?

“I’ve seen you looking out the window most of the time so I thought…if you don’t like them, that’s fine. I should’ve asked first.”

“No, it’s…this is great. Thanks a million.” I said, my nose already in the first book.

That small word of gratitude was enough to set her off. Apparently, I’d never said anything to her in all the time I’d been there. It would be a few days before Parvati returned once again into her life. I had already read through 2 of the 3 books when she came back. Parvati didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was glad I was enjoying them.

And oddly enough…I was.

Learning how the technology, or lack thereof, and their magic worked together was fascinating. Their balloons weren’t filled with helium or hydrogen or any sort of gas at all. They were all fire or heat based, much like a standard hot-air balloon would be. Odd and impractical, but that was the kindest description of this place, wasn’t it?

I mention heat because, apparently, they used crystals to hold their spells. Why there was electricity in buildings and homes but no noticeable power sources in sight; why there were working ovens but no obvious gas line hook-ups. Most, if not all, of what I saw as modern-day conveniences in a fantasy setting were, at some level, crystal based. It made things complicated but not impossible.

Especially when I finally had the start of a plan.

She had taken me out, finally, after weeks of being stuck in the cage. I believed her intent was to get me some exercise or something. There were some items on the immense dining room table. The thought crossed my mind that maybe this was my end. Fairytales may not be real back home, but that didn’t mean they weren’t partially true here.

She naturally got distracted almost immediately by a telephone call. It took her several minutes to finish the call and realize I was still sat at the table.

For a moment, she looked shocked.

The truth was, I had contemplated making a dash for the table’s edge. Jump to a chair or shimmy down a table leg or something. But the idea of being chased down was one I couldn’t shake. So, a better one came to mind.

“You…stayed in one spot?” she asked.

“I…I’m not one for looking down…” I said, pretending to avoid the table’s edge. “If you know what I mean.”

I loved to rock climb. Indoor rock walls at the local gym or taking destination holidays to scale cliffs wasn’t a new experience to me. It was one of the things I had in common with my former university roommate, Benson. A meter to this giant was nothing to me. But she didn’t need to know that.

And it worked.

She was already pretty flighty, so it didn’t take her long to take me out, set me down somewhere, and forget about me for a while. Even when Parvati came back into her life, I played the part. Parvati, to my detriment, made sure to check-in on me more often though. I wasn’t sure if it was genuine concern or simple paranoia and distrust.

I bided my time and was rewarded within the month.

The chance came one morning when she was running late. She wasn’t paying attention, as usual, and didn’t see fit to shut the top of the cage properly before she left. It was enough.

I gave her time to come back and fix her mistake, just in case she returned. After one of the tensest half hours of my life, I felt it was safe. Climbing the bars wasn’t difficult, and reinforcing the top so it didn’t fall was simple enough. I was out of the cage and on a solid surface within moments.

Finally.

A rope was tied to one of the cage bars and thrown over the side. The piece of wood attached to the end insured it reached the ground quickly. The knots had been carefully spaced for maximum hand and foot hold usage. When she came home and saw I was gone, she was sure to start her search on the ground level. Perhaps checking every nook and cranny, looking under all of her furniture in the hopes of finding me. Safe and sound, or hurt, or whatever condition I might have been. She would expect to find me in her flat, no matter what.

I took great pleasure in knowing how disappointed she would be.

The real plan was to head outside. The window was left open, as usual, to air out the flat. There was generous room for me to duck under and out, without fear of getting stuck or needing to lift it higher. I wasn’t sure what story the apartment was on, but it didn’t matter. With a hop, skip, and a leap of faith onto the window sill, I was free.

Free.

Oh, to feel the wind again, to smell the air.

To climb a rocky surface again.

The bricks were large, and wide, and evenly spaced. Not quite like the rock climbing walls or cliff-faces I’d scaled before, but I was still able to make my way up.

Yes, up.

Down would’ve been the smarter and more obvious move. Sure. No worry about falling, would probably have been easier to find food eventually. And to be honest, I almost changed my mind. But I was determined to keep the high ground. To throw her off my trail as best I could for as long as possible.

Mostly, it was to keep the airfield in sight. I knew it was stupid. It didn’t make sense. I knew that. But it was the only thing to keep me focused.

By the time I reached the rooftop, it was around noon. I set-up my “camp” as quickly and as best I could. The roof was in disarray and almost abandoned. The only life came from a broken down, but still occupied pigeon coop. The door had fallen off long ago, but nests remained inside nonetheless. It didn’t look like it had seen any giant life otherwise. The entrance into the building looked rusted over. Corners of the area were filled with scraps and detritus.

I spent most of that first day of freedom resting. The climb had been arduous. I was out of practice and out of shape because of it. That would eventually change. Climbing up and down to the flats below would become a daily excursion. At least until I was ready to find someplace new. And I knew exactly where I wanted to go.

Especially once I discovered the ship.

Scavenging through the rubbish piles that littered the roof was necessary and time-consuming. Whatever bits and parts I could use were welcomed. It seemed to mostly contain old toys and remnants of previous parties. A good deal of cloth for certain, if musty and worn in places. Nothing I couldn’t handle and mend. My heart almost stopped when one pile shifted and revealed the most wonderful sight: a ship.

I wasn’t sure how old it was. If the age wasn’t affected by the weather or whatever caused it to be discarded. It was beautiful nonetheless.  Even more so when I realized what all the bits and bobs still attached to it meant.

Once upon a time, it was an airship.

It took a while to find the envelope, the balloon, that belonged to it. Neither the ship nor the balloon were in the best shape. They needed work and repairs.

It lit a flame in my heart. I was going to build an airship. Or rebuild, to be technical.

The next few weeks…or months, I wasn’t sure how long, exactly…every time I made a raid for food, I kept an eye out for airship repair supplies. Thread, nails, sewing needles, glue, whatever I could carry or gather and haul to the roof.

I made sure to avoid her flat in all that time.

I wasn’t going to take the chance of her seeing me again, let alone to catch me. There was a temptation once, to see if she had even noticed I was gone. I sat on top of her window, trying to decide on my approach, only to hear the usual shouting match between her and Pavarti.

What did I think would happen? That my disappearance would change her?

Building the ship helped put me at ease. Tired me out more than the climbing did, but still. It was amazing to feel something again. To do something I wanted to do, without supervision, without fear of being scooped up and sold off to some negligent giant as more of a living figurine than as a sapient creature.

That wasn’t true. I was still scared of being discovered.

Paranoia kept me on my toes. Originally, I had my camp set-up along the walls of the roof. Over time, and one windy afternoon that rattled the immense entrance door despite its rust, I relocated to one of the air vents. Far enough within to be out of sight or reach of a giant, close enough to still get around. The ship couldn’t stay in its spot either. It took time, effort, and days of gathering the needed counterweights to move. Eventually, and luckily, the ship was moved to the top of the doorway. Out of sight, and out of reach, of any giant that might make their way to the roof one day.

It would be one of the wisest things I could’ve done.

The day finally came. That morning was perfect. The winds were low, there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the temperature practically delightful. It was the perfect day to fly. All that was needed was to fill the envelope. I’d plenty of candles and keeping them lit would be easy enough. It was just a matter of waiting. Which I was content to do. What was a few minutes more, when I’d been at this for weeks already?

That’s when he dropped in. Or “popped” in, rather.

I flinched at the sound, half expecting to hear the fateful thunder crash that brought me to this world in the first place. To feel the pull of motion and nausea as every part of me was forced elsewhere. I started breathing again when I realized I was still in the same spot.

And so was the giant.

He staggered to lean against something, anything, before he fell. He managed to catch himself before he bent over and retched.

Great. I was going to have to deal with a DRUNK giant.

Without a moment to waste, I started loading up the ship. I ducked down as best I could once everything was settled. The candles still needed time to do their work. The envelope was nowhere near full and had a way to go yet. I crouched, and prayed, and waited for the giant to move again.

And waited. And waited. And…waited.

I almost took it as just my paranoia acting up. That I had just imagined a giant popping in and out of thin air.

“Urrrgggghhhh…”

Until I heard the groan.

“Gods help me, how much more a’ this can I take?” he said aloud. I watched as his sandy blond hair bobbed across the roof and looked over the edge. “Hells, where am I now?”

Please don’t look up, please don’t look up I pleaded to myself, watching as he “explored” the roof.

It didn’t take him long at all to find the rooftop entrance. He gave the rusted lock and chain a firm shake.

“That’s not good.” he muttered. “I wonder if…Mend.”

I knew that tone. Heard her use that same inflection in her voice whenever she cast a spell. Not that she knew or used many, at least as far as I could tell. I didn’t like the idea of the door suddenly being accessible, but if I was lucky, I would be gone before someone else arrived.

“Damn. Maybe the ghan-bri way?” he continued.

Now that was a phrase I didn’t know. Or understand. Maybe one day I would find out.

“BLOODY SODDIN’ HELLS!”

But for now, I was more concerned with the problem at hand. It took a moment or two for the giant to stop swearing up a storm. Something about “spell locks” and “due diligence” littered in.

“Looks like I’m waitin’ this one out…” he said.

All right, fine. Sharing the roof with the strange, drunk giant wasn’t ideal, but if I kept my head I’d be out of there soon enough anyway. Perhaps if I found a way to distract him?

“What the…?” I heard him ask. The sound of something being dragged across the roof and set down close by, too close, followed soon after.

Oh no.

“Oh! A toy airship! Wonder if it’s a-?”

“STAY BACK!”

There went keeping my head.

I found myself jumping off the boat and brandishing the closest thing to a weapon I had. The giant and I locked eyes. His hand stopped where it was, within a meter of the prow. He looked surprised to see me, but he wasn’t scared. Not that I expected him to be, but it would have been nice.

Especially when all I had was a wooden splinter for a sword. Less so when my hands began to shake.

“Do…don’t you d-dare…” I tried to threaten, words stumbling over each other.

“Sorry, dinno it was yers.” the giant answered softly. I watched as he actually retracted his hand. It wasn’t something I was expecting, really. I had lived with a selfish giant and been kept in a shop with handsy ones. There was half an expectation he would grab me, or the ship, or both, anyway.

It wasn’t a surprise to see him still staring. A glance out of the corner of my eye confirmed the candles were still at their work. Painfully slow, but still doing their best. The envelope needed more time to fill up. It seemed I hadn’t any left of my own.

There was no way this giant was going to leave now. Would I be able to escape? Or would I have to do something drastic?

The scraping sound brought me out of my thoughts. The giant had stepped down and returned whatever item he used as a stepping stool back to its place.

“I dinna mean tuh interrupt. Hope ye doona mind me waitin’ fer this Jumper stone tuh recharge. Shouldne be tuh long now.” he said, leaning against the rooftop door. Or so I assumed, it was hard to tell without looking over the edge. I wasn’t about to risk being snatched that way. “Name’s Colm, by the way.”

“Ostador.” I found myself saying. My arm dropped to my side, sword still shaking. “Ostador Fogg.”

“Nice tuh meet ye, Osta. Erm, I mean, Ostador. Sorry, been told I have a habit a’ makin’ nicknames. ‘Less ye like bein’ called ‘Osta’?”

“Friends call me Osta.” I replied. There was a part of me that wanted to curse myself for the inflection. There was another part of me that was proud for including it.

“…Got ye, Ostador.”

A sigh of relief escaped my lips. The last thing I needed was a rampaging, raging, drunk giant to ruin what I’d worked so hard on. I was so close -SO CLOSE- and didn’t need to see it fall apart before I’d had the chance to lift off.

“Doona s’pose ye know where we are, Ostador?” he asked a few moments later.

“I’m not sure. I know we’re between…I think it’s called Rosecrest and…and Acadia?”

“Arcadia. Then we’re probably in Kirkfries.” he elaborated. “No, we definitely are. That’s the Kirkfries Airfield right there. An’ I think that’s the new Royal Airship they’re buildin’. Prob’ly as a coronation gift.”

I had noticed the construction weeks before. A part of me scoffed at how long it was taking “Magical Giants” to build the thing, any thing, really. But I couldn’t begrudge them, if she was any indication: not everyone knew every spell.

I suppose that was one of the reasons the airfield fascinated me. And why I was compelled to keep it in sight. And why it would be my first destination.

“It all right if I ‘come back up’?” he asked after a while.

I hesitated. The smart thing would’ve been to ignore him and hope for the best. The envelope was making progress, and I think I could’ve set-off. Or at least kept in the air long enough to settle on a different roof.

The smart thing would’ve been not to engage any further.

“Oh-okay.”

I swallowed hard as I listened to the scraping again. Watched with bated breath as his blond hair and hilariously large eyebrows and curious blue eyes came back into view. His movements were slow and deliberate, at least. It was a relieving bewilderment that he didn’t move any closer.

“Do ye mind if I ask ye a few questions?” he eventually asked.

My stomach heaved as I nodded.

“Does she look familiar? Did ye come ‘cross’er tuhday or yesterday?”

He produced a photo and laid it down in front of me. I waited until his hand moved back before I glanced at it. It was a picture of him and a human woman. She was “pushing” him out of the camera frame. Brown hair, fair skin, glasses, hefty. If I didn’t know better, I almost would have said she looked happy. Surely it was part of an act. It had to be.

“No.” I answered.

“Figured as much. If she were here, I’m sure she wooda heard me swearin’ befer…” he sighed as he took the photo back. There was a moment of awkward silence before he turned his attention to the ship. “…Where’d ye find a ‘Duff MacDuff’ galley?”

“A what?”

“A ‘Duff MacDuff’. The ship.” he said, nodding toward my pride and joy. “At least, I think it is. Looks like the one Mum had in’er study. Her’s was named the the ‘L.F. Raibeart Brus’. Canna really tell what yers is called from’ere.”

“Is…is it famous, or something?” I found myself asking.

“Oh aye, prob’ly one a’ the most famous ships, in a way. I know most a’ the story but it should be ‘nuff…if ye wanna hear it, that is. I doona wanna take up yer day.”

I looked at the envelope. The candles were still steady and the balloon was still filling up. The ropes and ballast were in place. The ship didn’t need to take off just yet.

I hoped.

“I’ve got the time.” I said. “So, what’s the deal with this ship?”

“‘Cordin’ tuh mum, ‘bout a century ago, Duff MacDuff made these galleys as novelty airships usin’ a spell called ‘Float’. ‘Cept Float isne what ye’d call a…stable spell, I guess is the right term. It’s one a’ those spells a crystal canna hold, at least not fer long. Yer meant tuh control whate’er yer Floatin’ yerself, if that makes any sense. Needs concentration tuh use it properly. No crystal can do that on its own.”

“Oh. I… I thought magic was easier than that here…” I admitted.

“Trust me, it isne. Take it from somebody who had tuh take Remedial Magical Theory in second’ry school.” the giant chuckled softly. “Practical tests were always manageable, but havin’ tuh ‘splain how it all works? Not m’best subject, really.”

“I was never great at art history myself. Sure, I could remember the names and dates but…no, I can’t say I cared WHY a piece was made or the skill needed or anything like that.”

Why was this happening? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? He didn’t need to know this and I should be concentrating on getting out of there.

Did I miss meaningful conversation that much?

“So, erm, these were famous for making an impossible spell possible?” I asked anyway.

“That’s the worst part a’ the story. ‘Parently, MacDuff made these as prototypes so he could gain a military contract while makin’ money on the side. Proof that he had what it took. But the day he was meetin’ with Fathach’s generals tuh iron out the details, the news broke: the Duff MacDuff galleys had lost their Float spells. Turns out howe’er he made’em Float dinna last. Some think he did it on purpose so he could charge people tuh have Float cast on’em ‘gain.”

“Yikes. Famous for being a scam. Would never have imagined it.”

“Aye, that a’ course, but…mainly it’s rare tuh find a Duff MacDuff galley in one piece. ‘Least, not ones that havne been restored or pieced tuhgether from other Duffs.”

“Is…is it the materials or the construction that bad?” I squeaked out involuntarily. I had done my own inspections and was satisfied with the ship weeks before. Now, doubt was creeping in.

“Oh, no, these were well-crafted from the way mum told it.” he explained. “But somethin’ that flies suddenly losin’ its ‘bility tuh stay in the air…”

“Crashes. Lots of crashes, I take it? I can only imagine the public outcry.”

“The injury lawsuits an’ refunds drove MacDuff outta business an’ intuh bankruptcy. Made some legal changes tuh: new regulations fer testin’ spells an’ certificates needed an’ the like. Dinna wanna repeat a’ that disaster, that’s fer sure.”

“Yeah, we had similar things happen with toys as choking hazards and flame-retardant stuffed animals. Not fun.”

There was the briefest moment of surprise that passed his eyes at the statement. It didn’t take much to figure out why: the giants thought we were pets and pests for a reason after all. I could only assume they didn’t believe we were capable of anything more, that we had a society and laws and cultures of our own.

Maybe that was another reason I was so eager to get the airship working. Just to show them what I, what humans, could do.

“So, how long have ye been workin’ on this?” the giant asked. “I canna imagine it was easy.”

“I’ve been at it for a few weeks, I think. And, yes, it was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But…it’ll be worth it once we get in the air.”

“Do ye have e’erythin’ ye need fer yer flight? Food, water, a Jump…oh. Do ye need a Jumper Stone?”

“A what?”

“A Jumper Stone. It’s how I’ve been gettin’ ‘round. Most airships use’em in case uv’ emergencies. Tuh get people back on the ground.”

“Oh, I’ve made a parachute. It…should work well enough. I think.”

“…What’s a ‘parachute’?”

I couldn’t help it. I knew it was stupid to say or do anything to anger a giant. But still, I said it.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘WHAT’S A PARACHUTE’?!” I exclaimed, trying to comprehend what was just said. “Don’t you have parachutes here?!”

“Erm…”

“They’re strong pieces of fabric and rope we use to slow our descent when we jump out of pla-! When we jump out of aircrafts.”

“Ye use a SHEET an’ STRING tuh save yerselves from a crash?!” he asked, bewildered and aghast at the idea. “That’s mental!”

“You just said you rely on a ROCK! How is that any better?!”

“It’s…it’s a MAGIC rock!”

“One you said needs to be recharged! How is that reliable in an emergency?!”

“Oh, aye, ‘cuz a sheet full a’ holes woodne be worse?”

There was a moment I considered pushing the argument. But a glance at the ship was all I needed. The balloon was finally ready.

“To each their own, I guess.” I said, choosing instead to board my ship.

“…But it’ll work, right? Yer bedsheet, I mean.” he asked softly and, I would dare to say, earnestly.

“As well as your rock would.” I replied in kind.

“I wish I had m’camera. I wooda liked tuh take a picture befer ye cast-off.”

My long-dead mobile phone still sat in a pocket. If only there were a way to charge it, to turn it on and preserve this moment, at least.

“I wish you did too…”

“Is there anythin’ yer missin’? I might have somethin’ spare ye can use…”

There was a temptation to ignore him now that I was ready.

“Don’t suppose you have a moment to cast Float? Just in case?” I playfully asked.

“An’ water down yer achievement? Ne’er.”

“Heh! Well, I wouldn’t say no to a candle if you’ve got one. Otherwise, I think I’m all set.”

The giant -Colm- took a moment to take off his backpack and search through it. I’ll be honest, I hadn’t expected him to make a genuine effort.

Colm hesitated when he produced a pair of wax candles a moment later.

“Is it all right tuh get closer? Tuh load’em on, so tuh speak?”

I gripped my splinter sword again, just in case.

“Go ahead.”

He was slow and deliberate once more. The candles were set, ever so gently, on the deck of the ship. I waited until his hands were back at his side. It didn’t take much to store them below deck after that. I had prepared slots to store them, and the extra candles I’d had, to keep them in place during the trip. It took effort to keep them, and the rest of my cargo, balanced. I could only hope my first voyage wouldn’t be waylaid thanks to weight issues and loose items rolling around. By the time I stood on deck again, I was eager to set off.

Colm was still there, waiting patiently.

“We-well, this was a good talk but…I think it’s time we parted ways.” I awkwardly said, with as much strength as I could muster. “It…it was nice to meet you, Colm.”

“Aye, the same can be said ‘bout ye, Ostador.”

“Osta. You…you can call me Osta.”

“Thank ye, Osta. May Iansa keep the winds at yer back an’ may Loki keep yer path clear.”

I nodded my thanks. I had no idea who those people were, but I still felt the need to show my gratitude for the thought.

I then set myself before the wheel. There were no rudders to move, what with it being an airship and no water to turn in, but I had installed other things to help change my course. Several ropes connected to various parts of the ship; their knots were tied firmly along the wheel. The ballast was next, untying the various pieces of junk kept together to prevent the ship from sailing off as the envelope was filling. The anchors, large pieces of metal I’d recovered, were brought back onto the deck.

With that, the ship rose.

The balloon held steady as I started to float away. I turned back only once to see Colm waving me off, enthusiastic and sincere in his efforts. His once large form diminished the further I got and soon enough he, and her accursed apartment building, was out of sight.

An immense city to maneuver and explore was laid before me.

It all started out well enough. I kept myself high enough to avoid windows and the rooftops. Didn’t need to find myself in giant clutches once again just because I’d sailed too close to an inhabited building.

It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. It was all I wanted and more.

The sway of the ship as it sailed through the air. The creak of the ropes and the groan of the wheel as I set my course for the airfield. It would have been safer, and faster, to clear the city altogether. There was no need to navigate the town. I told myself that, at least for the first leg of the journey, keeping to the city meant more places to land if needed. Rooftops were closer for an emergency than the ground itself, of course.

I told myself it wasn’t selfish to show off. I didn’t believe it. Because it wasn’t true. I did want to show off. To set an example of what humans could do: that our ingenuity and tenacity could take us further than they gave us credit for.

High hopes and aspirations, I knew.

I would have to settle for at least one successful trip at least.

“OI! LOOKIT THAT!”

The giants were having some kind of gathering on their roof. Setting up decorations for…the coronation, I supposed. Lots of green and orange and white, that was for sure. A few turned to look but didn��t think anything of me and my ship.

It was impulsive. I waved. It was only then that they looked amazed.

“Holy shit! There’s a human in there!” one shouted as I passed. “Someone, get a picture! Quick!”

I didn’t turn to pose, but kept on my way. I wasn’t sure if they got the picture they wanted, but I could still hear their argument. It was nice to know some of these giants could be amazed by me.

The journey had been going well up until that point. It wasn’t until I passed a classroom that the turbulence first kicked in. The wind shifted and was working against me just then. It took all my knowledge and strength to keep myself steady. I was more concerned with keeping the candle lit and the envelope full. There was a moment when one of the ropes came loose and my port-side retractable ballast pole swung out. The weight had me lurch off my path and I found myself getting closer to the school building than I would’ve liked.

The classroom full of eager, fascinated, giant children made my blood freeze.

It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what would happen if they got their grubby little hands on me, or, worse, on my ship. I would’ve crashed through their window if I hadn’t let the next set of ropes loose in time.

The sails unfurled and caught the wind.

There was a mix of awe and disappointment and surprise and joy in their young voices as the wind carried me upwards and away. The sails acted as wings, bearing me higher and higher above the city’s rooftops.

When I reached a satisfactory height, I brought the sails and the poles they were attached to back in and against the ship. It wasn’t a hard decision to make: sailing above the city was the better choice after all. I’d had my fun.

The airfield wasn’t particularly busy. Or at least, not as busy as I was expecting it to be. The only comparison that made sense would be, of course, an airport. There were plenty of airships docked, but not many seemed to be landing or taking off. Not sure how often these crafts were used or what their schedules were like. There were railroad tracks and a station within view, the trains noticeable by their smoke trails and resounding horns as they blared. Perhaps the giants worked on a staggered schedule for transportation: whatever they used for power needed to be recharged and maintained after all. They probably didn’t want to breakdown in the middle of a route…or in mid-air.

As I got closer, it was easier to distinguish the airship I had been watching for months.

The new, apparently royal, airship looked even more magnificent than I’d imagined. It loomed over the other ships as it sat there. I could see workers on scaffolding, still working on it. Painters or varnishers or the like, I wasn’t sure. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure how regular ships were made, let alone airships in a giant world full of magic.

I decided taking a few passes around the ship would be enough to sate my curiosity. For the moment. Finding a place to land, perhaps, set up camp for the time being, felt like a good idea. Tweak and fix whatever needed to be done. Decide on another destination. If I had another destination. Scavenging would be a possibility. Would give me time to see how the inner workings of an airfield and their ships actually worked.

That was the plan. That should’ve been the plan. Until the wind changed again.

There was something different about the shift this time. Harder, more violent, than before. It was all I had to keep myself on the deck itself. Everything was shaking too hard to do much. As I turned to release the wing sails again, in the hopes of steering myself out of the dangerous current, my stomach dropped.

The candle was out. The fire was gone.

Stepping away from the wheel wasn’t possible, not without falling to my doom. But I thought I was still all right: the balloon shouldn’t lose too much air right away.

Unless one of my patches came loose.

“Oh no…” I groaned as I watched the piece of stupid fabric flap in the wind.

The swears came steadily and rapidly after that. I managed to catch the attention of a few of the workers as I started my descent. Some of them tried to make a catch but the airship was always just out of their reach.

Then one of the ropes snapped.

A wing sail flew out, sending me closer to the airship. The turn was so sudden and so sharp, I thought every bone in my body would snap. Death was certain. Should have been certain. It was by the Grace of God or sheer dumb luck that the window was open. It was a miracle the airship even fit.

The landing was a disaster. At least, so I was told.

I woke up to voices in the dark. Everything hurt, but nothing seemed broken. No bleeding, at least not that I could tell. I was in one piece.

“Surprised tuh see one a’ these out an’ ‘bout.”

Oh no.

“Haven’t seen one of these in public since I got mine a few years back.” another voice added.

“Really now? Auction or the like?” the first, and older, voice asked.

“Estate or Fire Sale. Slightly singed, but still.”

“Hmm. A shame to see this one in such a state though. See’re-?”

“LEAVE IT ALONE!”

The scream was a surprise even to myself.

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH IT!” I continued to yell. In an instant I was on my feet, hands stretched out to find my way in the surrounding shadows.

A bright light stopped me in my tracks. When my vision adjusted, I was met with a giant pair of brown eyes.

“Le-leave…leave my ship alone…” I threatened, fists raised. Sure, they were shaking. But still. Had to do something.

“This is your ship then?” the eyes, the giant, asked. I couldn’t tell if her tone was genuine or sarcastic. “And how’d you come across it?”

“It…it was in a pile of rubbish.”

“A Duff MacDuff, thrown ‘way? Prepost’rous. Shameful, at that.” the older voice added. “Almost as bad as one desecrated like this.”

I wasn’t sure what made me snap: hearing the insult or the sound of something falling off my ship.

“DESECRATED?!” I yelled. “I made that pile of overrated kindling fly again! And without any of your stupid magic, even!”

“Really? You did this all on your own?” the eyes asked again, before I could yell again. “What tools did you use? Where were you? Where did you find the MacDuff, exactly?”

I was tempted to answer her questions. I really was. But another part thought she hadn’t earned the answers. Not when I was still trapped.

“As fascinatin’ as I’m sure the tale might be, I need this…mess outta m’office. I’ve meetin’s tuh attend an’ I doona wanna take more outta m’day fer this.” the other voice interrupted, clearly irritated. “Dispose uv’em at yer discretion.”

“Sir?” the eyes asked.

“…I doona like the idea uv’a human infestation on m’ship befer she e’en gets intuh the air.”

“Don’t let the High Lord, I mean, the King, hear you say that. He has a human of his own, you know.”

“Doona remind me. I’m dreadin’ the walkthrough fer that ‘lone. Dismissed.”

“Aye, Captain.” the eyes said, lifting the box -no, the rubbish bin- I was trapped under and setting it aside. There was a moment I almost made a run for it. Better an attempt to escape then have them believe I would yield so quickly. Yet, I had to: the thought of leaving my hard work behind was heartbreaking.

It didn’t help her hand was closer than I expected. I flinched when it got too close.

“Easy there, big guy.” she said as she reached for me. I tensed up expecting to feel monstrously large fingers wrap themselves around me again. It came as a slight shock to see her offer a flat palm instead. Not that I took the offer. She ended up scooping me up anyway. “I got you.”

Sort of the problem, isn’t it? I thought to myself. I didn’t find myself able to talk until we were far from the captain’s office.

“Please…please don’t…don’t kill me…” I said, eyes fixated on the ship she held beneath her arm. It looked like it was barely keeping itself in one piece. “Or…or at least…don’t throw out the ship. Please.”

The giant looked both ways before pushing against a door.

“I’m not going to throw away your ship.” she reaffirmed as she set it on a table in the room. “And I’m not going to kill a human, let alone one who got a Duff MacDuff to fly again without magic.”

I was starting to think these giants didn’t have a basic concept of science. Or, if they did, it was ignored.

“I’m going to grab something to eat. I know I’m starved at least.” she said, before placing me in -what I assumed to be- an overhead compartment. The door to keep the contents safe was odd: it was more like reinforced chicken wire instead of a solid door.

I was in a cage. Again.

“I’ll check for some spare supplies too, spruce up your new place…well, temporary place, at least. I’m sure I can convince the captain this isn’t necessary.” she stated, locking the door in place. The bars separated us now. “Worse comes to worst, you’ll only be in there for a week at best. Maybe two. Then you can head home with me, yeah?”

I couldn’t bring myself to say the cutting remark I had in mind. My heart sank with the rest of me, as I picked a far corner to sit in.

I was going to have to start all over again, wasn’t I?

“I won’t be too long. I’ll see you in a bit.”

The cabin door closed behind her. Only to open again seconds later.

“Ankou take me, I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself properly.” She said as she made her way to “my place” again. “I’m Talia McCallen, currently the head shipwright and interior designer for the L. F. Taistealaí. Who might you be?”

“…Ostador.” I eventually answered.

“Nice to meet you, Ostador. You can call me Tali if you like. What’s your favorite color?”

“What?”

“Your favorite color. So, I can make your stuff more personalized.”

There was a moment where I almost insulted her instead.

“Seaweed green.”

It was nice to finally hear someone ask.

“Nice! We’ve plenty of blue but green shouldn’t be too hard to create. Back in a bit, for real this time!”

I found myself still hating my circumstances again. Just…not hating it as much as I did before. It was still humiliating and unnerving and demoralizing, but at least Talia was making an effort.

It was still a terrible situation. But small efforts made it easier. Especially when it came to the ship.

“Oi, Ostador, can you do me a favor?” Talia asked on the second day. I wasn’t in a speaking mood, hadn’t been since I crashed and was caught again. But I turned towards her and acknowledged her existence, at least.

“I just need you to touch this stone for me.” she said as she brought the stone closer. It was triangular and fir easily on the palm of her hand.

I hesitated. Just because it looked like a stone didn’t mean that’s what it truly was. I’d seen magic stored in similar stones, after all.

“It’s for the ship. I can explain after you touch it.”

I gulped hard. And touched the stone, expecting the worst. I felt her pull the stone away after a moment.

“Thanks, Ostador. Here, take a look!” she said.

I watched from the cage-luggage rack as she stepped over to where the ship, my ship, still sat. Talia placed the stone down, followed by three others. She set each one at a corner so it surrounded the vessel. There was a brief flash of shimmer after she tapped the closest stone.

“Ready?” she asked, looking towards me for confirmation.

I nodded, worried more about her plans for my ship. I hadn’t laid a hand on it since the crash but…neither had Talia. Until now. When she passed a hand over the stone barrier, the shimmer appeared, but allowed her to pass. So far, so…odd. A light show, nothing more.

Until she picked up one of her books. Talia gave it a shake, to catch my attention apparently, before she threw it at the ship.

“NO!” I screamed.

I thought the ship was done for. That the book would ruin all my hard work even further. Except…the book bounced harmlessly against the shimmer.

“Wha…?”

“The only people who can touch this ship, to move these stones, are me…and now, you.” Talia explained as she replaced the book on a shelf. “Whenever you’re feeling ready to work on it again, that is.”

The thought of working on my ship with anyone else, let alone a giant, felt…conflicting. It would mean having her mammoth mitts on all my efforts and tinkering where they shouldn’t…but it also meant the chance of flying again.

“Tha…thanks…” I replied.

Hopefully, that would be enough for Talia. For now.

I had played the waiting game before, after all. Talia and, I suppose, my stay on the royal airship wouldn’t last much longer. Once the high lord, the king, whoever, performed the christening ceremony and made his inspection, we’d be moving back to her own flat.

Moving day would be dreadful but necessary.

At least that time around, I knew there’d be more consideration. Talia had kept to her word and made my imprisonment more bearable. It almost seemed like a proper place to live this time: a better bed, an armchair, and a bookshelf full of copies of her own collection. All in a seaweed green color scheme, as asked. Watching her magically split new books one by one, only to shrink them down was, frankly, mesmerizing. And appreciated, to be honest. Talia had done more for me in 24 hours than she had done in weeks. A step above the pet shop, even.

I had to remind myself not to get comfortable.

“Do you want the wireless on?” Talia asked a few days later. It was still early in the day and I was barely awake. “Or do you think you’re up to listening with the rest of the lads?”

Guzzling an entire pot of coffee would never have the same effect the thought of being surrounded by a whole group of giants did to jolt me awake.

Talia didn’t need an answer.

“Never you mind, I can tell. I’ll keep it going for you. It’s Coronation Day and the first king of Fathach’s going to broadcast his speech later on. No reason to miss out on history, yeah?”

“Yeah…history…” I replied.

“Need anything else before I head off?”

A way out of this cage. A way out of this world. A way home.

“No, thank you.” I said instead.

I tried to read and formulate plans while Talia was gone. The wireless was welcome company, even if the only chatter between songs and programs were concerned with the royal coronation. It was unusual yet comforting to hear familiar opinions on royals. There were no punches pulled about the apparently sudden shift to a monarchy. Opinions about the ruling family were varied, but seemed in favor of them. The idea of Ireland attempting to crown a king or queen after years of democratic elections made me laugh. There would be riots for days, if not a full-blown revolution.

It made me miss home all the more.

I didn’t pay the wireless much mind otherwise. Decent background noise as I contemplated the best ways to improve the ship. Thought I recognized a few of the voices that spoke but to be honest the giants’ accents all seemed to blur together after some time.

The king started his speech soon enough, and all sounded like your typical politician’s prattle. Something about unity and expectations, but no definite change in policies.

“E’eryone in Fathach has a right tuh live their lives tuh the fullest. Tuh the best a’ their ‘bility.” the king rambled on.

“Yeah, right.” I replied absently, still concentrated on my book.

“They should have the same opportunities tuh succeed…no matter their race. No matter their creed. No matter their magical skill. No matter their station. No matter their religion.” the king continued.

“And no matter their size?” I interjected sarcastically.

“An’…no matter their size.” the king confirmed.

The gasps were barely audible over the wireless, but my own was loud and clear. The king finished up his broadcast and the regular radio hosts quickly began their own commentary afterwards.

The pounding footsteps were ignored until the door swung open, jolting me out of my thoughts.

“Did you hear?! Did you hear what he SAID?!” Talia asked once she was inside. “Do you know what this means?”

“I…I don’t…I don’t know?” I asked, more out of shock than anything else. My thoughts were all over the place at the moment.

“ME NEITHER! Isn’t that great?”

The coronation and the now infamous speech were the talk of the ship up until the christening ceremony. I was supposed to spend the day packing while the captain and his crew attended to the king during his visit. Not that I’d had much else to do anyway.

“This might be our last day here, unless the king wants anything changed.” Talia explained as she got dress ready. She didn’t have a lot in the cabin in the first place. The rooms had been temporary lodgings for the crews as they worked on the grand ship. “Otherwise, we’ll be good to head home to Edinberry.”

“Right.” I replied, packing what few things I had.

“This commission should keep us going for a while. Plenty of time to fix up your ship and send you on your way.”

“…What?”

“Wasn’t exactly hard to figure out you don’t like it here. Not going to keep you longer than is necessary, big guy.”

There was almost a moment where I wanted to believe her. Especially after the king’s speech. I didn’t want to have too much hope.

“…Right.” I eventually replied.

I would still keep my plans close to my chest. Just in case.

“Back in a bit. Gonna make sure to sneak us some of the good food. There’s supposed to be a massive seven-layer apple cake, from what I hear.”

Once she left, I settled myself back on the couch. Reading no longer had an appeal. The king of the country was on that very ship. The same king that allowed humans to be treated like critters to be kept or cast out. The same king who wanted to change that.

The same king that deserved a few choice words from me. From any Human, really. But I’d want to be at the front of the line.

I didn’t realize I’d dozed off until the door slammed open.

“Ostador! Get dressed!” Talia exclaimed as she entered the room. Her attention was on my ship as I shot up off the couch. “The king wants to meet you!”

“He…what?” I asked, still in a daze.

“We were talking -the king, the captain, and me- and your crash landing came up and the king wanted to see you but the captain said you were gone days ago but I said you were still here and the captain is pretty mad but now that the king knows you’re still here he wants to talk to you personally!” she explained, carefully removing the stone protection barrier from around my airship. She mumbled some kind of spell under her breath. No pieces seemed to fall off or shift as she lifted it off the table. “Captain wasn’t eager to have the celebration interrupted but when the king says he wants to meet someone and their Duff MacDuff, you don’t say no, you know?”

“Right…” I replied.

Holy shit. This was it. I was going to meet the king. Meet him, and give him the earful of a lifetime.

“…Is that what you’re wearing?” Talia asked after a moment.

“What do you expect me to wear? Coattails and a top hat?”

“There has to be something slightly better in your wardrobe, I’m sure?”

“Oh yes, let me just check my massive walk-in closet for my ‘Meeting Royals’ regalia, I’m sure my butler has it pressed and ready to wear.”

“…All right. I think I can grab a spare ship uniform. Or the slacks and a shirt at least. What’s your size?”

“46 trousers, large shirt?”

Talia was gone and back before I knew it. As soon as I was changed, we were off. About half way through our walk, the nerves started to set in. We were about to meet royalty. Even Talia was getting nervous, as she kept prattling on about not being nervous.

Needless to say, it didn’t help either of us.

A pair of guards, or so I assumed by their uniforms, stood outside an ornate door. One opened it as the other entered behind us. The room was stately but not as large as I figured it would be. Not kilometers long, at least. A table and chairs were provided, set with drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and canapes. Talia was careful to set me down beside the plate before placing the ship close by.

There was a temptation to run toward the ship, toward my Duff MacDuff, and never leave it again. But the hors d’oeuvres plate called to me.

“Do you need me to Diminish any or…?” Talia softly asked.

“No, I’m good.” I replied, breaking off a piece of cracker and scooping it into the pâté that sat on it. It wasn’t the best I’d ever had but it was still pretty good. I hoped it was enough to settle my stomach.

Especially when I noticed we weren’t alone in the opulent room. In each corner was another guard, all standing stoically and waiting patiently. Made sense, I suppose. You’d want to make sure the room is secure and safe before royalty arrived for an impromptu meeting.

The wait felt like an eternity. Talia and I found ourselves pacing the room -or in my case, the table- soon enough. Maybe the king had changed his mind. Maybe this was the set-up for an elaborate prank. Maybe we were about to die for…reasons I couldn’t think of at that moment.

Maybe I was waiting for disappointment whatever the case might be.

Talia and I froze in our tracks when the door creaked open.

“Good afternoon.” the man stated as he entered. He was quick to make his way to the table and knelt down before me. I had to admit, seeing his large crisscrossed scar up close made me step back. It wasn’t until he leaned his arm on the table that I saw them.

The first pair of humans I’d seen since the pet shop.

“Captain Michael MacKenzie, Arcadia Guard.” one of them said, reaching out their hand in greeting. “This is my Second Lieutenant, Phelan Fleming. Tall, dark, and brooding behind us is General Dorian Stryfe. Who might you be?”

“Ostador. Ostador Fogg.” I answered absentmindedly, shaking Phelan’s hand when it was offered. His eyes were light compared to his dark skin, and I found myself lost in them.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Fogg.” he stated, his voice smooth and kind. He smiled with perfect teeth gleaming. “Or might I call you Ostador?”

“Osta is good too…”

“Your ship is very interesting. You did all the work yourself?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, I didn’t erm, build the actual ship, but the rest…the rest is me.”

“…I’m afraid I’ll need my hand back if we’re to inspect your ship, Osta.”

“Yeah, of – what? No! Oi, no!” I said, finally snapping out of my daze. I turned to see the other one, Captain Mac-something, reaching for the ladder. I smacked his hand away before he could start climbing. “No one is ‘inspecting’ this ship if I can help it!”

There was a moment as Phelan and the other one considered each other.

“How do you want to play this one, General?” MacGregor, or whatever, eventually asked.

“Oh, what, plan on arresting me for manhandling an ‘officer’?” I interrupted before the giant general could respond. “Humans suddenly rise to that level on the social ladder, have we?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure ye will someday.”

The interjection came from a new, but familiar, voice. He was dressed well enough, his dirty blond hair tied back and almost out of his eyes that time. It still took me longer to recognize him than I probably should have.

“Wait…Roof Guy? Callum…Colin?”

“‘Roof Guy’?” the general asked with a raised brow.

“Colm. Close though.” he said, taking a seat. He produced a box, and moved its pieces around until a table and chairs were made. “Please, have a seat, Ostador.”

I begrudgingly left the ship, still glaring at McKillroy as a warning. Phelan at least seemed content to look with his eyes and not with his hands.

“I’m glad tuh see ye made it in one piece.” Colm said, as I took a seat. An engineering part of me wanted to inspect the table and chair to see how it worked, but I ignored it. For that moment. “More or less.”

“Yeah, it was going well until…well, it didn’t…” I explained.

“Was it somethin’ I coulda helped with when we met?” he asked. His face actually fell at the thought.

“No, no it wasn’t anything you could’ve helped. The wind just…I miscalculated or got stuck in a slipstream. Unless you can control the wind.”

There was a split second when the worst thought crossed my mind.

“…Can you control the wind?”

“Heh. If I could, I’d’ve been able tuh ‘void a few notable kilt incidents, lemme tell ye.” he chuckled. His tone returned to normal with a look and a cough from the giant general. “…But perhaps those’re stories fer ‘nother day. I’m actually here tuh ask ye a question.”

“And what might that be?”

“How would ye like tuh make more airships?”

I waited for the punchline. Waited for this moment to fall apart. Waited for the overbearing giant laughter at the “human aviator” to echo in the room.

“…Are you serious?” I asked. I made my voice as steady and unfeeling as I could make it. I wasn’t about to fall for whatever they had in mind. My eyes kept to his face, waiting for any sign he was about to break.

“A’ course.” he simply replied.

If he was lying, he was doing a good job of it.

“And why would you want me to make you more airships? Want to recreate Duff’s disaster for a new generation?”

“Erm, Ostador, maybe-?” Talia tried to interrupt, but I wouldn’t let her.

“Or perhaps you’d like to see more humans in the sky as a novelty? ‘Oh look, how cute! Humans think they can fly! How silly, how idiotic, how droll.’”

Colm’s face didn’t change after my rant. He had a better poker face than I expected.

“I was thinkin’ more like an alternate mode a’ transportation fer humans tuh get ‘round the cities an’ e’en the country. Not sure ‘bout crossin’ the oceans but I doona have tuh know ‘how’ fer that anyway.”

“You still haven’t answered why.”

“Doona s’pose ye heard the king’s speech the other day?”

“Yes.”

“An’ know what it meant?”

“…Yes.”

“Change is comin’ an’ I’d like tuh make it happen sooner rather than later, if I can. An’ that means findin’ the right people fer the right jobs. People like ye.”

“And what makes you think I’m the right person?”

“Osta, ye took a pile a’ scrap an’ a broken toy ship, spent weeks buildin’ it intuh somethin’ new when ye coulda spent that time fortifyin’ a new home, an’ ye flew. Without magic.”

“…It’s not exactly difficult if you know-!”

“That’s m’point! Ye do know! Ye do know an’ yer clearly passionate ‘bout this sort a’ thing. If yer not right fer this, no one is.”

There was a moment I wanted to believe him. He seemed very passionate about this himself. Like he wasn’t lying.

“What sort of compensation should I expect for doing all this?” I asked eventually. “I assume you didn’t think I’d do any of this for free?”

“A’ course not. Is there anythin’ specific ye had in mind?”

“Money. A salary. Standard for any job, really.”

“Still workin’ out the kinks uv’a comp’rable future economy.” he replied, finally starting to look uncomfortable. “But it would come in due time.”

“A comparable economy? That mean your lot are working on more than just freeing humans?”

“Aye. Slowly, a’ course. Doona wanna make it hard fer humans tuh build a life without some kinda foundation.”

“Equal rights?”

“Workin’ on it.”

“Areas to travel, to live safely?”

“Workin’ on it.”

“No more humans coming over through magic?”

“That is somethin’ the world’s best thaumaturgists have been workin’ on fer centuries, I’m afraid.”

I gave myself a moment to consider his words. To decide if his words had any weight to them. I needed more.

“So, you’re expecting me to just…what? Hop on board with working for giants, for free, for God knows how long?” I asked with an exasperated sigh.

“It’s why we’re askin’ as a voluntary position. We know it will be tough goin’ fer a while yet.”

“What happens if I refuse? You’ll snatch me up and press-gang me into service anyway?”

“No. We back off, respect yer decision. Maybe we wait tuh ask ye ‘gain when plans are more finalized. If we can find ye ‘gain. If yer still interested. An’ if yer still not, well…I s’pose we start the search fer someone else.”

It was all sounding too good to be true. Too easy. Too much like…naivety. But…maybe…

“…I want to hear this from him. I want to hear the king himself say he wants to change how things are. That humans don’t deserve to be pets or pests anymore. Then I’ll give you an answer about this…position.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as Colm stared, his ridiculous eyebrows raised in surprise. A groan was heard from the giant general when he turned to look at him.

“Colm, please just-!” the giant general began.

“No, no. He has a point. Let’s get the king in here.” Colm interrupted, with a broad smile. “We’ll be right back with the king, Osta.”

The pair exited the room without another word.

“Ostador, that was-!” Talia tried to explain, once the door closed behind them. She was interrupted when the giant general reentered the room.

“May I present his royal majesty, Colm Matthew Alexander Brian Arcadi, Magistrate of Arcadia, High Lord of all Fathach, High Commander of her forces, Defender of her peoples, first king of Fathach, by the grace of the Gods, long may he reign.” he introduced, clearly exasperated and on the verge of snapping.

Colm entered the room, retook his seat, and locked eyes with me once more.

“Hullo!” he said, smile broad and eyes bright. “I am doin’ m’best tuh change how things are. That humans doona deserve tuh be pets or pests anymore, an’ I hope ye can help me pave the way for a better, brighter future fer all.”

A pin could’ve dropped like a ton of bricks in that moment.

“…You’re taking the piss.” I finally said.

“If this is how your reign is going to be, I may just retire early.” the general sighed.

“This whole time? You’ve been the king THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

“No, just fer the last few days. ‘High Lord’ befer that.” he, Colm, -the KING- explained. “I thought ye knew. That’s what I get fer not doin’ proper introductions right off the bat.”

“My apologies, M’Lord, I should’ve mentioned it before you got here…” Talia stated.

“It’s all right. So…what do ye think?”

“If I agree to this…what exactly do you expect me to…well, do?”

“Design, build, add yer input tuh makin’ human-sized an’ operated airships. Ye’ll prob’ly start by makin’ one fer our human guard in Arcadia.” Colm clarified. “Yer livin’ quarters an’ workshop would be there as well.”

I admit, the idea of my own workshop piqued my interest. My own place to build and design and work. To come up with my own escape plans if this whole thing went pear-shaped. I took a moment to glance at Talia. She had been quiet for most of the conversation, but I could feel her fidget with each question I asked. I couldn’t tell if they were good signs or not.

“…Are there any…problems we’d have tuh resolve befer ye give an answer?” Colm calmly asked, now looking at Talia as well.

“What do you mean by…oh! Oh, no, m’lord!” Talia began, her nerves shot again. “Ostador has been, erm, under my care but I’m not…there’s nothing legally keeping him here. He not registered under my name or anything.”

Registered. I was registered. If this really was a ticket out of that, I should I take it, shouldn’t I?

“There…there is something like that. Would…will you take me back?”

“Do ye wanna go back?”

“NO.”

I surprised myself with how loud and forcefully I’d answered.

“N-no. No, I don’t want to go back. Never, if I can help it.” I stated.

“Then ye woona go back. E’er. We’ll see tuh it.” Colm confirmed. “I promise.”

I almost believed him.

“If ye need more time tuh consider it, it’s fine.” Colm said after a moment. “I just wanted tuh make the offer while we were both in the same place.”

“The ship comes with me. No matter what, that ship stays with me even if it means claiming a finger or two! Yes, even if you ARE the king.”

“Heh. I woodne expect any less.”

There I was, sitting and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’d be getting a workshop to build my own ship -my own ships- without having to worry about going back to her again.

And I’d get to know this Phelan better. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. I should take it.

Shouldn’t I?

“Fine, let’s give it a shot.”

“Glad tuh hear it. We can discuss this further if need be ‘nother time. I still have this tour tuh finish an’ all.” Colm replied as he rose from his seat. “We’ll see each other soon. Stryfe will take care a’ the rest fer now. Good day, Osta.”

Colm, the king, was gone before I knew it.

“If you’re ready to go, we can leave now. I’m sure you’ll want to get settled in while you can.” the general, Stryfe, said.

“Wait!” Talia quickly interjected.

Oh no. I should’ve known. She wouldn’t have tried anything in front of the king.

As I raised my hands up in defense, it came as a slight shock to find Phelan’s hand on my shoulder and MacKenzie in front, acting as a shield.

“Don’t you want your stuff? Your clothes, the books?” she added, either ignoring the gesture or oblivious to it.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I…I guess I do…” I stammered.

“Then I’ll be right back!” Talia said, before running out of the room.

I took the time to examine the ship. It had been too long since I’d seen her up close. It wasn’t a complete disaster but a lot of patches and fixes I’d originally made were damaged. A lot of it had been difficult to fix in the first place. At least the second time around, I’d have access to the right parts and tools.

“So, how did you come across this ship, anyway?” Phelan asked, as he sidled up next to me.

“Oh, um, it was…ah…garbage. It was in a pile of garbage.” I answered, trying to get the words out.

“You were lucky to find something like this in such great shape. I can’t wait to work on it with you.”

“Hahaha ha ha…ye-yeah, me too…”

Talia returned quickly enough, clothes and books and other knick-knacks that were part of my entrapment. She helped load them onto the ship while MacKenzie, Phelan, and I stashed them below deck.

“Oh, and one last thing…” Talia said, handing me what looked like an oversized poster board or novelty cheque.

“Is this…your business card?” I asked once I looked it over properly.

“Hey, you never know if you might need some advice, or opinions, or to just…you know, chat. Backup, maybe, if you need it.”

“Thank you. Really. I…I’ll be sure to keep it safe.”

“That’s all I ask.”

We braced ourselves as Stryfe carefully lifted the ship. I waved Talia one last farewell before we, inexplicably, were teleported off and away from the royal ship. There was actual joy in seeing her return the gesture.

My time with the Arcadian Human Guard was…well, not what I expected.

While it was true I’d have my own living quarters, they were still shared with the rest of the human guards. Flashbacks to Benson, the pet shop, and even her place kept coming to mind. The others were patient with me at least. Most of them knew what I had been through. I was sure to meet more in the future. Hopefully not too many more, if the king was honest about his intentions.

Working alongside Phelan was a delight.

Our workshops were close together. It turned out Phelan had his own projects outside of “working” with the human and giant guards. All of them involving magic and how to apply them for human use.

“I’ve been experimenting with different crystal shapes and formations.” He explained once. “My theory is a crystal’s shape, density, and structure can affect how well a spell keeps hold inside it. I was hoping you’d let me test out an alternate power source for your ship.”

“How do you mean?” I asked, looking over his own bookcase. It was full of magical-sounding texts and theories, as well as geology and crystal encyclopedias as well.

“Instead of candles to provide the necessary elevation, we might be able to use specialized Heat crystals instead. Similar to how the Tergaian airships stay aloft. Wouldn’t have to worry about the fire going out, at least.”

Phelan was helpful. And smart. And curious. And cute.

“Y-yeah, I don’t see why not.” I replied.

“Ostador? It’s almost time for your appointment.”

I gulped hard as Stryfe started dialing a nearby phone.

“You can still back out if you want.” he mentioned as he was put on hold. “You don’t need to go if you’d rather stay here.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” I said, setting aside my work apron and tools. “I’d…I’d rather face this head on.”

“All right, understood. Phelan will be going with you, just in case. The second you want to leave-!”

“I’ll be right there to Jump us out.” Phelan said, putting on his uniform coat. “Of course, General.”

“They’re ready if you are.” Stryfe said into the phone receiver, his hand raised in anticipation. He gestured to us soon enough. “They’re on their way.”

With a simple squeeze from a magic-imbued stone chip, we were out of the Arcadian Guard Station. It took a moment for the world to settle down. I didn’t think I would ever get used to Jumper Stones. Or teleportation in general. Being on solid ground, even if it was just an enormous desk, helped.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fogg.” the giant warmly greeted. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Mr. Manchester.”

Wallace Manchester was part of the Arcadian City Hall and was in charge of its license and permit regulatory commission. If you needed a permit to host a parade or needed to know how legal it was to build on your land. He was the man to see. He was also in charge of pet licenses and registrations. Including human licenses. Including mine.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t need to participate. I’ll speak for you and state your case. If anything has changed, now is the time to tell me.”

“No, nothing’s changed. I just…I just want this officially settled.” I replied after a moment.

“Then if you’re ready?” he asked, his finger on his intercom. Wallace pressed it once I gave my nod. “All right, Chelsea. Send them in.”

I thought I was strong. I thought I was confident. I thought I was certain of myself. My stomach still turned when the door opened.

When she entered.

Parvati was with her as well. Both seemed somber enough. At least, until she caught sight of me.

“Oh! You found him!” she exclaimed. “We’ve been so worried about him!”

I took a step back as she tried to reach for me. Phelan was quick to get between me and her. Wallace made sure she didn’t take another step.

“Miss, please take a seat.” he told her sternly. He returned to his seat as she and Parvati took theirs. “You were contacted about your missing human complaint.”

“Yes, of course, and you found him. I thought this was just…I dunno, a formality. Thought I’d be reclaiming him at the Kirkfries City Hall, to be honest.”

“It is a formality, but not in the way you think.”

“If this is about a fine, I’ll be happy to pay it to have him back. He’s been gone for so long and I’ve missed him SO much!”

“Yeah, right…” I muttered under my breath.

“There is no fine that needs to be paid, Miss. The fact of the matter is, you have no legal say here.”

“What are you talking about? He’s my human!”

“According to the record, no, he isn’t. While he was rightfully registered by the Petville pet shop, and ownership was temporarily transferred to you, you never officially registered him under your name.”

“Are you serious?!” Parvati hissed in irritation. It wasn’t the first time she had forgotten something important.

“And because you never registered him or renewed the license, the temporary one expired. He wouldn’t be considered ‘yours’ even a little bit. Your missing human complaint was filed long after the permits expired and long after you…‘noticed’ him missing.”

“But…but he’s mine! I paid for him, cared for him! He must miss me as much as much as I miss him!”

“What’s my name?!” I finally blurted out, barely able to hold back my anger.

“What?” she replied, a bit shocked to hear me speak up. It was a delight to see her flinch.

“What’s. My. Name.”

“It’s…I mean, I never gave-!”

“What’s my favorite color? My favorite snack? My favorite anything?”

I took more pleasure in watching her fumble for an answer than I probably should have. I continued when she couldn’t bother to reply.

“How can you claim to care so much about me when you don’t even know my damn name?”

“Which says a lot about your level of human care and welfare.” Wallace interrupted before she could speak again. “It is my conclusion, given the clear evidence of neglect and irresponsibility, that you have no legal claim to Ostador. It is also decided that you will be banned from procuring a human license for a minimum of five years.”

“What?! You can’t-! This isn’t fair! It’s not right!” she exclaimed.

“You have the opportunity to appeal this decision in court or on the next Grievance Day, but I can assure you now that you will have no leg to stand on. Please have a good afternoon.”

Parvati had to drag her out of the room as she swore up a storm, promising all sorts of legal disputes and a few threats thrown in for flavor. I didn’t spare her a second look when she finally said my name.

“What…what would’ve happened if…if she did…” I tried to ask after everything had calmed down.

“We’d still find some way to keep you here and away from her.” Wallace stated as he put the paperwork away. “Your reluctance did factor into how I decided on things and which loopholes to look for.”

“And if there were no loopholes to manipulate? Or a human actually wanted to go back with…with their…”

Wallace let the question hang. Or ignored it. I couldn’t tell.

“Hopefully such things will no longer be necessary, if we’re lucky.” he stated instead.

Phelan and I chose to return to the guard station and our workshops shortly thereafter. We were quiet for the rest of the afternoon, but I was getting nowhere with my work. My hands kept shaking and I wasn’t sure why.

“…Do you want to talk about it?” Phelan eventually asked.

“YES.” I blurted out, dropping a compass in the process. The blueprints would need to be reworked again anyway. “…Yes, I’d like to talk about it.”

Phelan had a kettle on and poured us tea. It was oddly comforting to see the hot plate or, rather, the crystal, glow and hum as it heated -Heated- the kettle.

“I don’t…I thought I’d be all right after that. But even now, I’m still just…waiting for something to go wrong. That I’ll…that I’ll be back with her again.”

“You feel like you’re going to lose everything you’ve worked for any minute now.” Phelan added.

“Yeah, exactly. I mean, back home there were tough times and I won’t pretend it was easy, but the stakes feel so much…bigger, here.”

“They are. I don’t…I don’t know what Earth is like, and I don’t suppose I ever will but…I want to do what I can to make here better, even if only a little bit at a time.”

“…What was it like, growing up here?”

Phelan took a moment to steady himself and drain his cup before he continued.

“I don’t…I don’t have the same frame of reference as you do so I’m not…I know it was a different experience. That our lives aren’t…weren’t comparable.” Phelan began, setting his cup aside. “The man…the man I lived with, he practically raised me. Taught me everything I know about magic and how it worked. I thought…for the longest time, I was happy. I thought I meant as much to him as he meant to me. But as soon as I got older…as I got better at reading, and studying, and theorizing, he grew colder and colder. Until one day he decided I was…I guess he thought I was too smart. Decided I was better off living somewhere else. Those days in the human shelter were some of the worst of my life. There were times I thought it would’ve been kinder if he’d just killed me instead. Because all I could think about was what I did wrong. What I did to make him hate me. I never thought…I thought we were happy. I thought he’d be proud.”

“He sounds like a complete arsehole.” I commented softly. More softly than the bastard deserved.

“Yes. Yes, he was. And it took me so long to realize that. And I feel so…so stupid.” he replied. “I’m…I hate to say it, I’m glad your…that person was never kind to you from the start. At least you always knew she was bad.”

“I don’t think she could have said or done anything to change my mind anyway. I had a life before and I can’t pretend it never happened. Having to go from a person to a thing to having to gain personhood again is…it sucks. I hate it. I hate how easily this can all fall apart and I’ll be…I’ll be a pet again. I can’t…I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“I can’t either. I…I like working as a Guard. I like the friends I’ve made. Friends. I’ve never had human friends before! And I get to work on my own projects! I get to…I get to find out who I am. Who I can be. Who I want to be.”

“Yeah, it’s good to have that again after so long…”

“It’s why I jumped at the chance to be a Guard when the General came all those months ago. Not because I thought he was going to change the world right away. It was because he asked. He didn’t pick and choose and grab. He simply…asked. After years of being told and taken and dismissed, it just…it felt like a nice change of pace. And look where we are now!”

Phelan made a grand gesture to our surroundings. Bits and bobs to the giants were normal sized tools and materials to us. Dioramas to them were space separators to us. A corner of one of their back offices was a living space to us.

“I know it doesn’t seem like much, but this…this is more than I could’ve hoped for. And knowing there are others like me, like you, who can, who WILL make things better? It gives me hope for a brighter future. One I never would’ve dreamed of before.”

Phelan reached forward and grabbed my hands, tenderly.

“I don’t know what will come next. But I’m glad you’re here and I’m glad you’re with me. Whatever happens, I promise we’ll get through it together. And if you ever feel scared or worried or angry, I want you to know you’ll always have my shoulder to lean on.”

Phelan seemed so honest. So genuine. So naïve. He had just offered his shoulder, but I was more interested in his lips. I leaned forwards and kissed him.

Maybe I needed a little naivety to get through this.

My heart lifted when I felt him reciprocate.

“S-sorry, I should’ve…I didn’t mean to surprise you.” I stammered when we finally pulled away.

“It was a welcome surprise.” he replied.

We leaned in for another kiss.

“Hey fellas, do you-oh!” someone interrupted, making us break away once again. “Sorry, just wanted to tell you tea is ready. Whenever you are.”

MacKenzie made his way back the way he came, but not without one last shout.

“OI, HARITA! GUESS WHO OWES ME £20?!”

#tales of ffh #tales of far from home #toffh #far from home #ffh #stories #giant #tiny #fantasy

[sw124]

[Lamia-Birdy-Bitty Daily life!18]

Hello my lamia lovers how you doing, good I hope! I for sure am having a awesome day! Exciting news to share on so many levels! First off is news on my friend Casey and her boyfriend Roy, they decided to tie the knot! Yes their getting married, I was so happy to hear the news.

But of course due to the issue with Covid no wedding was held but then again thats fine for them cause their not big on the whole ‘wedding party’ thing. Instead they went to the court house, got the papers, signed it and made it official.

Casey called me to see if I was alright and among other things tell me the news. She wished me good health but then they asked me a strange question.

“What do you think we should do now that we’re married?”

Odd question to ask a friend who’s single but then again she’s always asked me questions that have hard answers too cause I think of multiple answers.

I told her “Well have you guys thought about a honeymoon or buying a bigger house?”

She tells me they plan one when they get their vaccines and things start settling down and as for a bigger house they’re happy where they are since they don’t plan on having any kids.

“Well since those are solved how about you get yourself another bitty, another Lamia maybe or different kind of bitty, you know one to keep Zippy company or to join you in your yoga.”

Thats what she was originally thinking of, she told me that Roy has always wanted a Coral/Cherry lamia since he was little. That surprised me a little and I asked her for details on this.

She told me that Roy is a naturally giving person and when he was younger his older sister got herself a mini Coral. His sister is 10 years older then him. So she was 18 an he was only 8, but despite her parents protest and trying to use 8 year old Roy as an excuse, she got herself a Coral. His name was Cuda, named after the type of car his sister liked.

Apparently he loved Cuda just as much as his sister did but as many of us can guess; his sister moved out for collage and to start her own life, thus taking Cuda with. Since then he’s always wanted to get one of his own. The house they live in would support having two full sized lamias like a Coral and Pygmy...I hated to do this but I had to tell her something.

“Um...Casey thats great he wants one and all, but does he know that Pygmy’s and Corals don’t get along sometimes; if not introduced properly. Cherries especially don’t do to well with Pygmy’s cause of their sensitive nature...”

She was confused, so I continued.

“Well, what I’ve learned from Vex is that Cherries need a lot of attention and reassurance. Corals are one thing cause their confident enough to know that even if they share a house with another bitty they’ll still get love from the owner/owners or possibly from other bitties in the home. However Cherries don’t have that confidence and ...well Zippy isn’t the kind to stay and cuddle nor does he respect boundaries at times unless established early on, Cherries also get massively insecure when there are bitties’/lamias who don’t understand their needs. But if your sure you guys want a Cherry take my advice and bring Zippy to Vex’s shop, ask her if there are Cherries that can tolerate Zippy’s hyper nature.”

She asked if there weren’t any that could tolerate Zippy.

I told her this. “Well I suggest getting a Chain or King if your gonna adopt a Cherry. Chains are natural comfort experts who’d give Cherries not only that but their unique soul bonding can help them gain some confidence. Kings are also great protectors and with their energy can easily keep up with Zippy but also keep a sense of order.”

She replied that she’s not a fan of Chains or Kings, she didn’t give a explicit reason but I think that one full-size Kings are too big to fit in her house; similarly for Chains but its more that she’s…intimidated by them. I relayed my earlier suggestion and go to Vex’s shop and see if you can find one. Further more I explained that she needs to have a sit down with Zippy and establish some stern ground rules if they get a Cherry.

We ended our call, wishing her good luck in both her marriage and her finding a Cherry.

[Update!]

Ok I got an update for you guys on Casey an Roy, yes they got a Cherry Coral, full size too. Oh he’s just the cutest thing, they named him Zapper. I laughed and told her that it was either a ZZ Top reference or you just wanted to call them Zip and Zap. She told me it was both.

She told me they took Zippy when they went to the shop, it was cute hearing how Roy gushed over the Cherry Corals. He found one that just bonded to him quickly, now the interaction with Zippy and Zapper was a bit touch and go but before they came to the store they had a sit down with Zippy. They explained and [gently but sternly] explained the do’s and don’t of what to do around his new sibling.

An from what I’ve seen and heard things are going somewhat well, again still touch and go. But once in a while I’m asked to bring Dante or Chip over when Zap needs a break from Zippy.

[Or when Roy is out getting stuff an will be out for more then a few hours.]

Zap really likes Dante but lets face it he’s just smitten with Roy, the two of them have already bonded so much. I’ve gone over to their place and hehe oh my gosh, Roy had Zapper all bundled up like a burrito and was snuggled with him on the couch. If I didn’t know better it was like watching a father and his baby bond while watching TV.

[which they were doing, some random game show]

I’ve seen they even set up different corners or spaces in each room for Zip and Zap, if that ain’t smartest thing I’d ever seen. Heck they have a ‘cool down’ corner in case one of them has a meltdown or needs to have space.

I’m really glad these two found a system for their babies.

[For info on Cherry Corals or Corals in general please speak to @vex-bittys she’ll help you out]

#undertale #lamia bitties #fanfic

[keeptheotherone]

Mecation: Day 1 

Thursday

I once read social media described as an indulgence of the fantasy that others are interested in the details of our lives. I’m indulging in that fantasy this week by blogging about my Mecation under the guise of travel blogging ;)

If you follow me in even the most casual way, you know I’m a nurse. While I’ve enjoyed the vast majority of my 23 years as such, I don’t recommend it during a pandemic. The last 18 months have been the second-worst mental health period of my life, demoted to that position not because of the mildness of my symptoms but simply because at 15 I didn’t have the experience or perspective to realize my life was not, in fact, ruined forever.

COVID increased my personal vulnerability as a high-risk patient and made my job immensely more difficult in countless ways both small and large, but the worst part of the pandemic for me (so far) is it took away all my coping mechanisms precisely when I needed them most. Massage, pedicures, dinner out with friends, travel ... all gone practically overnight. Pre-COVID I travelled all the time--home to my parents’, long weekends by myself (Mecation!), annual visits to BFFs, conferences, tourism, the beach, my birthday, writing trips, international trips ... I always had at least one trip in the works, usually one booked and one (or more!) in the planning stages. 

When COVID started, all my close friends and family except for two lived out of state. One of those two was out of town but close enough to get together, but the other was a few hours’ drive away. I’m single and live alone; it was the most isolated I’ve ever been in my whole life. 

With my bestest friends over 500 miles away, I still feel that way sometimes. I haven’t seen them in a year. If it weren’t for COVID, it would only be 7 or 8 months (I’ve gone every January or February since ... forever). Then again, if it weren’t for COVID, I wouldn’t have been there last September; one had been hospitalized and I needed to see she was all right with my own two eyeballs. I expect it will be at least another 7 or 8 months before we get together again, bringing the total to about 20 months. One year we saw each other 5 times in 9 months, our personal best since college. 

I was alone on Christmas. Oh, I’ve spent December 25th on my own before; I’m a nurse. I’ve worked the night of the 24th or the 25th (or both), or whatever combination that didn’t leave enough time off to drive home. But I’ve never spent the Christmas season without my parents. Sometimes the week before, sometimes the week after, sometimes at my place instead of home, but always together. But last Christmas COVID was raging, the vaccines had just come out but were only available to first responders (I got mine on the 23rd), and my elderly parents didn’t feel safe to travel. So I spent Christmas without family.

Travel was not just a break from my daily routine and the stress of nursing; in many ways, the biggest benefit travel made to my mental and emotional health was giving me something to look forward to.  Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” and ohhh, I was so heartsick last year! Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t visit my best friends of almost 25 years (more than half my life!). Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t lean on my dad or be hugged by my mom. Not being able to travel--and not knowing when I could travel--left this gaping hole in my future, and I had nothing to fill it with. 

I tell you this not to throw a pity party but to explain the significance of the trip I’m on right now. It is only my third this year: my dad and I spent a week in the mountains in February (my depression and anxiety was so bad then that was treatment, not vacation), I took a friend to the beach over my birthday, and now I’m a couple hours from home at a nice spa hotel. (I’m not counting my nephew’s graduation, which was emotionally challenging for multiple reasons, or helping a friend move from Florida. Moving is never fun.)

I started planning this trip in the spring ... May, maybe? You know, after the vaccine rolled out to everyone and case counts were dropping and it looked like we were gonna lick this thing and have a quasi-normal summer by the Fourth of July (yes, I’m American. That date is a proper noun here.). I had switched jobs in November (don’t ask) and gone on mental health leave December 29th, so I felt I owed it to my unit to put in about six months of work before taking any significant time off, especially since I came back at 24 hours instead of 36. That meant September.

I knew what I wanted to do: 4 or 5 days at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. I’d been before and loved the freedom of not worrying about every little expenditure (what can I say, I’m cheap), and a few days of Vitamin Sea sounded perfect.

Then came Delta.

All right, maybe going out of the country isn’t the best idea, I thought. Don’t want to end up with expensive reservations and then your destination closes to Americans, or you make it to your chosen island but can’t get back home. But I didn’t want to fly (ugh, airports!), I didn’t want to drive (rest stops and restaurants and gas stations), and while I thought about taking the train, it didn’t seem much of an improvement (and maybe a downgrade) on flying.

Then a friend mentioned a sleeper car, and I thought yes! That could work! I’ve never been to New England, I want to go to Boston, that area of the country has low case rates and the highest vaccination rates, this has potential! 

Then I looked at the CDC map. There were only four states that didn’t have high transmission at that time (early August, I think; I’d had to wait for confirmation that my time off had been approved): Michigan, Rhode Island, Maine, and New Hampshire. All four had substantial rates of transmission. Hardly ideal, but one thing I’ve learned this year is sometimes you have to make compromises to protect your mental health. It is true it doesn’t matter if you’re happy if you’re dead; it is also true it doesn’t matter if you’re safe if you want to kill yourself. (I’m not suicidal, I am receiving treatment, don’t anybody panic.)

So, now I’ve settled on Maine or New Hampshire by train via sleeper car (Michigan is too far for a 4-5 day trip and RI--meh). Well, as I got deeper into planning, turned out Maine or NH were awfully far too. Far enough I would have to overnight in a major city, which pretty much defeated the purpose of isolating in a sleeper car. Then I found out there were no sleeper cars on either train route.

So, now vacation is 5 weeks away and I’m back at square one. The Deep South, Texas, and Florida are imploding. Pediatric cases are rising--kids are sicker and make up a higher percentage of cases than they did last year. Scuttlebutt from my ICU colleagues is it’s bad--17/30 MICU beds are COVID and they’re all vented. SICU is being nicknamed “the ECMO unit.” The hospital has 18(!) ECMO machines and 12 are in use; the float nurse who tells us that didn’t even know we had 12 because she’s never seen that many in use at one time. Hospital-wide our numbers are equivalent to early February (we peaked in January). There were six--SIX--pediatric rapid responses in one day. 

And I’m going to travel.

It’s a big deal ... a big accomplishment, really, because of what it says about how I’m successfully managing my anxiety. April 1 was the first time I’d been inside a grocery store in more than a year ... and that wasn’t my idea. It was late April or May before I was comfortable eating in restaurants, even with the falling case count at the time. I’m still not sure if I’m managing my anxiety or reacting to the pressure by going to the opposite extreme (I have a history of that), but I know I’m less stressed, less anxious, have fewer obsessive thoughts, fewer physical symptoms, and am learning to live with this disease. 

So, here I sit at a marble-topped 5-foot-wide desk in my queen/queen hotel room at the end of a productive and enjoyable day. I slept in, completed the big goal of this weekend’s to-do list that I honestly thought would take several days, unpacked and organized my room (I arrived yesterday evening), reorganized my Favorites Bar and Bookmarks on my Mac, had an 80-minute aromatherapy massage, enjoyed a shower in the spa afterwards and even blow-dried my hair(!) before wandering around for a while to get the lay of the land and get some steps in (this place is huge!). Then I changed clothes and took myself out to dinner for my favorite food, Italian. 

That’s me in the picture up top, all dressed up :) Actually, I probably look pretty normal to y’all; like most people with depression, my personal hygiene sunk to new lows in the last year and a half, and as a low-maintenance person to begin with, that’s saying a lot. I bought that necklace as a bridesmaid and am not sure I’ve worn it since; this spring was her 10th anniversary. Yesterday I took out the cat-shaped earrings Dad gave me for Christmas. (Yes, they were gross. Yes, I cleaned them. Yes, I’m wearing them again now.) Just wearing a nice top, fixing my hair (no ponytail or claw-clip bun, my staples), and adding jewelry was a big deal ... especially since “no one” was going to see me. I did it just for me, to make myself feel good. And I did. (That’s another small pleasure COVID took away from me--lip gloss. If I wore any makeup at all, it was lipstick or gloss. Utterly pointless when you’re masked whenever you’re in public.)

I took my laptop to dinner and edited a couple chapters of my new Charlie/Amy fic (previewed during #ktoo turns 10), ran a couple errands, and headed back to the hotel since I don’t like to be out late by myself in an unfamiliar city. Forgot I put my receipt envelope in the backseat pocket and reorganized the glove compartment looking for it, then gathered a bunch of returns into a bag in the trunk. Hung out writing in the lobby until my Mac threatened to die, came upstairs and tidied up, put on my jammies, and talked to you guys :) 

#ktoo travels #covid coping #mental health #about ktoo #ktoo nurses #herself

[likeawildthing]

You are truly a diamond of a woman Lindz. You somehow manage to excel through pressure I would shatter under. You give me hope. If you can face everything at once then maybe I can make it through the little things. Stay positive stay strong and hopefully you can get the good health and relaxation you deserve. For you and your family.

Thanks babe — your kind words are definitely appreciated!

But in full transparency, I struggle with and manage depression and anxiety symptoms daily through meds, support, breakdowns and self care. I have shattered in this process multiple times and have had depressive episodes. I’ve had some hard years but this is I think one of the hardest periods of my life.

Neither of my kids are doing well in school. Every effort to take proper time off and relax since August 2019 has blown up in my face. I have lost both grandmothers. Both of my children have been through unprecedented trauma and mental health issues. My ex has been an abusive ass to all of us. My career progress has floundered a bit. I dealt with months of housing insecurity last fall. I have been grieving the loss of writing fanfic for six months. I’ve survived school but this program is a mess and I’m looking at possible school deferment for a year to ease the pressure, but the next month or so will determine that. I had to give up my grant review.

Also? I have learned to ask for help. I have learned to slow down and listen to my body’s need for rest even when Im crying from frustration. I have named my backyard squirrels and listen to back yard birdsong all morning. I have embraced cozy maximalism, redecorated both of my kids’ rooms, and put in a front garden last year. I have made peace with a messy house. I have learned to cook healthier food for us. My family is amazing and my friends have good things going on in their lives. I went out for coffee last month with a friend. I’m fully vaccinated. I learned to make art for the hell of it. I’ve made peace with the fact that I might believe in something More, even if I have no real interest in finding out what that is. I take naps and relax without guilt when needed. I no longer doubt my worth or value as a human, and I don’t let my ex antagonize me like he used to. My world has narrowed and slower and that’s not always bad thing. Some days I’m ok and some days I’m not and that’s ok, too.

That’s me being positive but I don’t always feel it. And that’s also ok. I’m not a wallower by nature, but sometimes it’s a wallow kind of day. Sometimes it’s a gnash my teeth kind of minute, or hour, or afternoon. That? Is also ok. I don’t even know what the point of this ramble is except that writing is cathartic and I’m feeling introspective tonight. I don’t think any of us have more or less capacity to handle things than other people. I do think learning self-care and cultivating a support system and having access to first class healthcare are all factors for success.

[daraanna]

Baby steps

He was standing over a crib made of a basket and a pillow. It's been 3 days since his daughter appeared in the world. A little human being no bigger than his forearm, with black hair and eyes, and a broad forehead. After more than twenty years of life, Sasuke thought that he knew everything about love. He remembered the love that he have for his parents and how, through pain, it turned into hate. At that time, he thought that there was no escape from this state. After Itachi's death, he completely lost himself in the darkest depths of his soul. However, he was saved by his new family. He found a new bond, similar to a parental relationship with his sensei, a brotherly relationship with Naruto, but while travelling with Sakura, he discovered a completely new kind of love, combining trust, respect and friendship with passions that he had never paid attention to before. This love was built on a deep mutual understanding, after spending a year together they understood each other without words, both in combat and in their daily journeys. Despite this, standing over his daughter's crib, he knew that, if at all possible, he loved her even more. He was beginning to understand why Itachi had sacrificed everything to protect him. He knew he would do the same for her. Sarada was completely defenceless dependent on the care of her parents. He was sure that Sakura would be able to provide her with everything she needed. But as for himself ... For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do. Being a genius and a stubborn person, he easily found solutions to problems. If something required more work from him, using the method of trial and error, he always made his way to achieve  the goal. However, this was not the method he could apply in this case. There is no place for experiments. In the end he was even afraid to touch her without the supervision of his wife. He was afraid that he would hurt her as he did his new family-team 7.

So all he did, was stand and watch her tiny chest rise and fall with each breath she take. This calm rhythm was disturbed as the infant made a quick motion with its tiny limbs, then opened its eyes and let out a loud scream. Before he had time to react, Sakura had already picked up the little one and soon she started to feed her. Sasuke stood still in place watching his family. He felt useless. Pink-haired, despite the fact that she still did not regain her full strength after giving birth, was able to look after their baby. Even Karin changed Sarada’s diaper several times when his wife was not around.

It wasn't long before the green irises caught his gaze.

"Anata?" She asked, looking at him knowing that something is bothering him. He knew from experience that there was little point in denial.

He was silent for a moment, and then he let out a sigh.

“I don't have it ...” he replied, but seeing Sakura's confused face he added  ”Parental instinct ... Father instinct? I don't know what to do, I can't take care of her like you do...”

He admitted embarrassed, and his wife's reaction definitely not helped, she start laughing. It was the last thing he expected, and he felt annoyed.

“Sasuke-kun” pink-haired started as soon as she managed to calm down ”You really think that my behaviour is due to the maternal instinct?”

He didn’t say a thing.

“Anata, I'm a medical ninja. I was literally trained to take care of infants, so did Karin...” she replied looking him straight in the eyes. Even though he saw the sincerity in her gaze, her words did not completely convince him.

"To be honest, I also panicked at the beginning," she sighed seeing his reaction. It's natural, most parents don't know how to care for a newborn baby at first, theory and practice are two different things, she finished smiling and pointing to him on the place on the bed next to her. When he sat down she put Sarada between them.

“Babies are not as delicate as they look ... Believe me, you won't hurt her if you are careful and remember a few rules. It may be harder with one hand but it is not impossible ...”

Hearing that, Sasuka felt relieved. Even though he wasn't sure of his own abilities, he definitely trusted his wife. By listening carefully and observing (also with the Sharingan), he learned to care for their child.

.................................................. ....

Within two weeks, the moment came when he was left alone to take care of their child. Sakura and Karin travelled to the nearest city to buy vaccines for Sarada. This journey with a child would take too long. He also couldn’t go, because there was the necessary knowledge and medic licence to buy them. The first 3 hours passed calmly. The milk bottles his wife left for them should be enough if he didn't, they have formula as well. Sarada cooperated by sleeping most of the time. The problem started as usual, with a scream. Sasuke quickly found himself at the crib, it took a little longer to find the reason for her crying. Her diaper had to be changed. It was an activity that the head of the Uchiha family had never done before. At least not alone. The lack of one hand effectively prevented him from mastering this art so far, and he did not want to use a susano, whose bony hands were definitely not suitable for caring for a child. The baby's crying continued, and he couldn’t wait for Sakura's return. As carefully as he could, he put her on the changing table and unbuttoned the diaper. The contents were frighteningly large, it was hard to imagine that such a small creature could produce so much of... The mission of changing a diaper was not easy. It took over 20 minutes, cost him three packets of wipes, two clean diaper and a litter of water. Nevertheless, he was proud of the end result. Sarada on the other hand was not impressed, she already fell asleep.

.....................................................

Three months passed before they made the decision to return to Konoha. Travelling with an infant turned out to be even more difficult than travelling with a pregnant woman. They both agreed that sleeping outside should be kept to a minimum. However, it was not easy to determine the route home so that you could find accommodation at the inn every day. In addition, it extended their path almost three times. When they got here looking for help, he had not expected that they would be able to stay here for so long. However, Karin convinced them that she did not mind their presence. They occupied only one room in the huge empty facility which she had to take care of. In addition, Uzumaki had a clear weakness for their daughter. Sarada took his place as an object of her adoration. Not that he complained about it. The little one also liked to play with Karin. Especially she liked her glasses and hair. However, as Uchiha she did not like excessive affection.

Now he was sitting and watching the former Taka member walk down the corridor, cradling baby to her cheek.

"You're so cute, you have such a clear and tiny chakra, uhhhh you're so sweet I could eat you!" But despite the fact that his daughter had a much greater tolerance to cuddles than he did. It was her patience that had its limits as well. Which have now been exceeded. The baby moved its limbs vigorously before a loud roar came out of her small lungs.

Karin was devastated.

Sasuke just sighed before he went to save his firstborn. As soon as he took her in his arm, the crying ceased. Sarada looked at him with those large black eyes curiously. Her little body, still agitated by the hiccups after crying, slowly relaxed as one of her fists clung to his shirt.

“Hn. She doesn't like being squishing” he replied.

Uzumaki blushed slightly ashamed.

At this point, Sakura ran into the room.

"What happened?" She asked, looking at their daughter.

"She get little irritated" he replied. Hearing her mother's voice, little Uchiha smiled, only to burst out laughing moments later when the pink-haired kissed her forehead. However, as soon as he tried to hand Sarada over to her, the little one made a dissatisfied sound, clenching even tighter the fist she was holding on to him. Her attention turned to him once again. Despite the fact that she undoubtedly inherited her facial features from Sakura, the face with which she looked at him was a pout typical of the Uchiha. He couldn't help but smile. Seeing this, baby giggled again.

“Uh, the three of you are disgustingly cute, “Uzumaki sighed, reminding me of her presence.

Sakura only replied with a laugh  “I just finished packing tomorrow we can go ...”

..........................................

The farewell turned out to be much longer than he expected. During the three mouths they spent together, Sakura and Karin became friends and exchanged thousands of studies related to medical ninjutsu, as well as managed to grow a new plant with a combination of two popular species used in the production of chakra tablets. Of course, they left the exchange of contact data for the last moment. At some point they became too emotional when Uzumaki burst into tears and then his wife joined her. He was starting to lose patience. He looked at Sarada who was sleeping in the sling that acted as her baby carrier, didn’t care at all about what was happening around.

He sighed looking at the red glass frames held by the infant. As soon as they reach the city, they have to buy her some real toys... Although of all the things that were in the hideout, the glasses seemed the least harmless. Not to mention the fact that taking them from an infant was almost impossible. He could only be grateful that Karin decided to give up her spare pair of glasses. As well as everything else she had done for his family in those three months.

“You also take care of yourself and, most of all, look after them” she added at the end, when she finished saying goodbye to his wife.

“Hn” replied correcting the position of the child in his arms ”Thank you ... For everything you have done for us” he added, making Uzumaki temporarily stunned.

“Uh, I owe my life to Sakura-chan after all. It's nothing special that I helped you ... Well, it doesn't matter, you have to go, otherwise you won't reach the inn before dark. Bye” she replied, returning to the hideout.

"Bye” replied pink-haired waved goodbye “Ready to go?" she asked smiling at him and the sleeping baby.

“Hn.”

........................................................................................................

Oops, I did it again I made Sasuke too OOC, got lost in the fanfic Oh baby, baby Oops, you think that I can write Maybe It will be better next time I'm not that talented XD 

#sasusakusara #sarada uchiha #PAPASUKE #Sasuke Uchiha #sasusaku #Sakura Haruno #mamakura #karin uzumaki #blank period

[funkymbtifiction]

Quarantine Troubles

Hi there! I was wondering how you, as a fellow nfp deal with the struggles of feeling like Ne and Fi is just overdoing it?

I’m a 4, and even with different enneagrams, I feel as if you could still relate? (Sorry) I feel so bored at times, and waiting for the perfect moments to do things i enjoy, sort of hurting myself with my head, and just overdramatizing boring moments, leading me to this self-pity, and sadness. I also feel so unwanted at times, and am not allowed to do what interests me or to be true to me, which stresses me. […] And at times, I feel so guilty and selfish for wallowing in my emotions constantly. There’s also this constant- overthinking of situations or comments which leads to such melt-downs. Is there any way you cope with quarantine emotions or boredom?

Maybe you need more intellectual interests that you can do from home? Since it’s going to be at least six months before people can interact normally again, once they get the vaccine distributed and develop herd immunity. As I told the ENFP who is now working from home, you should keep Ne engaged (not bored) by discovering and learning new things – cruising YouTube for interesting ideas, trying out new shows, finding new music, and trying out things you can do from home while you wait. You might also try focusing on filling other people’s needs, as a way to break away from 4ish “wallowing.” Look around you and see what you can do to brighten other people’s lives or make them easier. It’s harder to be self-pitying when you are doing something for someone else.

My pandemic experience has been unique because I’ve always worked from home and did not go out or travel much, so it has not severely altered my day to day environment. It’s been more a mental thing of depression for the last 8 months. Being a big picture person, it was hard for me not to focus on the broader implications of the pandemic – an economic downturn that would wind up hurting millions of people (job loss, small businesses being forced to close, children stuck at home in abusive situations where school used to be an escape that fed them two meals a day). When I did venture out for groceries, etc., it saddened me to see people not talking to other people, people covering up their beautiful smiles in masks, etc. I had to stop watching the news, because with all the riots, burning of buildings, tearing down of statues, and public tantrums over the summer, it made me lose my faith in humanity and unfairly generalize about people. The stress of knowing the state of anarchy some places are in caused me to have insomnia for weeks. I spent almost all of August operating off almost no sleep, until sheer exhaustion forced me to sleep again. And the longer I avoid going anywhere or doing anything outside the home, the less interest I have in doing it. So, it has been a rough previous year for me on a mental health level, but at the same time, I am proud that I managed to get as much done as I did. That I didn’t just give up. That I fought my depression through being active at home.

Being depressed means I have about a fourth of the energy I had before all of this happened, which creates a problem where it used to be much easier for me to commit to doing non-work-related tasks. Now, it takes longer and drains me more, but I keep doing it – keep running this blog, keep working on my book, keep signing up for blogathons so I must force myself to do creative output and not just wallow in front of the television, etc. I have two movie dates a week with out of state friends. I chat as much as I can with them. I’m trying to read more, and a wide variety of books, through the library e-book program, so I have a constant turnover of new thoughts.

Off and on, do I complain or vent to people? I do. Daily frustrations. That is normal. I did not realize how much my 7 wing used to break up the boring monotony of existence with “going out with friends.” We used to visit a little tea house, or go window shopping on main street, or see a movie and have pizza afterward, things we can no longer do. That has been the hardest.

But… this past year also taught me a lot about myself. Stuff I would not give up, if I had to do it all over. I have found out more about myself, than I ever thought possible, and in many ways, being stuck at home WITH myself with nothing to do except think about and discover and start working on myself, I have made progress. I have learned that I always need something to look forward to, to stay happy, so I am finding new ways to do that, from home.

Several things that have made me happy in January: Miss Scarlet and the Duke on PBS, All Creatures Great and Small on PBS, and Susanna Clarke’s new very, very NFP book. Go read it and marvel at an ocean contained within a house.

My mother says happiness is a choice, not dependent on your circumstances. It’s a hard thing to believe and learn, but I am trying. Joy is something different from frustration. You can feel frustrated with the state of things, but still have joy in your heart. That’s something no pandemic can steal away.

#question #enfp #pandemic #submission

[amlao]

Day 102 of Being Alone for the First Time in My Adult Life

You know what I’ve learned, that I strongly recommend to all younger girls navigating dating and relationships?

Do not stay with a man for longer than you want to be in the relationship purely for his benefit or convenience.

Because he will never appreciate it, and will still make you out to be the villain when it’s over if they don’t want it to end.

I am so thoroughly exhausted with men.

I told Matt so many times that my feelings weren’t what I thought they should be, that I was too numb to be in a relationship after what happened with Logan, that we should break it off and I should be alone for a bit.

Every time, he protested that it didn’t have to be serious, his feelings weren’t super intense all the time either, that he didn’t care and it was still a healthy and rewarding relationship for him.

And then in January, he got vaccinated and was starting a new school. And I told him I wanted him to be free to meet new people, and that I wanted to take time to be alone.

He cried, he got upset, he said this was the worst possible time to spring this on him and he needed my support now more than ever since he was starting a stressful program.

So I made a deal with him that I would stay through the first semester, and we would reevaluate when the semester was done.

And girl, when I tell you…I sometimes counted down the days until May. Our relationship did not get any better with him being cranky and stressed in an intense program and me feeling suffocated. With the pandemic, I didn’t have any other social outlets outside of work, and it magnified my cabin fever. I distinctly remember crossing the street to work one day, getting a completely innocuous message from him and thinking, ‘I hate him. I really hate him,’

And it truly wasn’t his fault. I just felt trapped in a relationship where I didn’t feel love anymore.

I made a conscious effort to be kind to him and still do sweet things for him like to text him good morning or bring him different Starbucks concoctions I thought he would like, but it took absolutely everything that I had in me not to lose it on him or be shitty. I was just emotionally spent. And the fact that he was still so miserable to be around despite my efforts made me even more resentful.

But the worst fucking part is that, not only did he give me no credit for sticking it out through the first semester, he decided that I’m the worst girlfriend on the fucking planet because he could tell that I was checked out for those final months and it made him feel bad.

“You made me feel like worthless garbage! You didn’t even try! When you agreed to stick it out, I didn’t think it was going to be like that.”

And like…I may not have initiated sex with him or done any large, romantic gestures, but I saw him at least once a week. I told him I loved him daily and told him he looked handsome and I meant it. I surprised him with food and coffee regularly. I drove up to Jewell and dropped off his lab coat when he was in a bind. I was the most present, consistent partner I had the capacity to be.

And this is what I get in return:

“You can say you still love the hobbies we shared but can’t say you loved me.

Just go fuck yourself.

You never offered anything as a girlfriend and you were a selfish friend… I’m sick of thinking about you, I’m sick of the fact I broke up with you because you were such a shit girlfriend and friend that I couldn’t take it anymore, and yet you think you dumped me.

Just seriously fuck off, you’re the worst. I’d rather go through Marisa, who at least can admit I’m worth something to her, than you again.

You made me feel unwanted and like absolute worthless trash for months without ever caring about my feelings. Don’t you dare pat yourself on the back and say you tried your best, you didn’t.

You don’t deserve my friendship, let alone my love. The end.”

#the single chronicles #what did we learn today kids? #never date a man who is somehow the victim in EVERY story of his past and present relationships #never date a man who says that all of his exes were crazy #never date a man who is your “friend” but waits until you’re going through a very low point in your life to pursue you #the two men who regard me as villains in their story both pursued me at times where I was extremely isolated #and freshly devastated from the end of a relationship #and then when I got healed and got more perspective and decided I didn’t want to be with them #I’m suddenly the worst fucking person alive

[flockofdoves]

i feel really really weird this week. trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. like its certainly not the first time i’ve felt like this in my life but ive just not had my emotions so . not numbed? in so long or felt like crying totally unprompted or felt vaguely angry at random shit in a certain sort of way (which for something new then makes me feel super guilty because i used to be bad with how i went about anger and i guess i never really fully learned how to practice being normal about it i just started constantly suppressing it along with every other emotion so seeing myself angry about inconsequential shit even if im not acting on it makes me feel awful like people are potentially seeing my reaction to them when its not a justified thing even if i dont think i’m doing anything). like sure those were super normal in past parts of my life. maybe even in the context of my job which i guess i only quit just like 7 months ago now even if i otherwise felt numb through the year before that too. and not something surprising to emerge again bc it has in the past year too but just maybe not so much at once but on top of that just feel a bit paranoid about stuff like people reading my mind or bugs crawling on me (or imagining sensations like that or seeing that or w/e)

i guess in typing all this out when i think about it the one time i felt like this this past half year that i can think of (or at least pretty similar and notable in the way i felt weird minus the anger. actually i didnt feel angry til the past few days so i think thats just at like. being around someone whos made vaguely bigoted comments that i’m affected by but then feeling guilty for reading the worst into unrelated shit bc of that making me feel unsafe) is when my brothers girlfriend visited. and now this past couple weeks she visited and then my uncle visited and then my moms friend visited and in general just theres more invitations to see other people even not staying w us bc everyones vaccinated.

so i guess the biggest factor throughout all of that is like. having to get used to interacting with people that i havent interacted with much in this past over 2 years of being isolated while also simultaneously having my daily routines disrupted by that a bit?? which feels absolutely insane to me that that would have That disproportional of an effect and be something i really did not even know how to attribute at all until typing this out right now. like i really appreciate and have fun with a lot of those people its not bc i dislike them or literally anything like that i think this is just a bit of a deranged unexpected side effect of whatever fucking stage of isolation i’m at where instead of just feeling really stilted in conversation or feeling like i dont know how to normally talk to people or accidentally crying while talking to people or oversharing and being awkward like i have at various times throughout my 2 years and 4 months of isolation when i had brief periods of interacting with people i cared about and/or people around my age again, while sure a lot of that is still somewhat happening (but not the crying in conversation, that was once when i got to see friends from college once literally right before i really realized the pandemic was starting and i couldnt keep visiting after not seeing them for a year before then. i just havent seen any of those friends since)  i think its like. not knowing at all how to act normally around people but also not being as used to the people i am newly interacting with while my routines interrupted so whether i want to make a good impression around them in spite of that or am trying to be normal about feeling upset about shit people i dont know well but cant just not be around say or whatever  ig it just like. flares up my anxieties about what can tell from what i say or how theey take me and all that leads to intrusive thoughts and paranoia about not just giving off the wrong conversational things but literally people reading my mind and judging me for intrusive thoughts recursive cycle etc and all that just makes me feel exhausted and unsafe and useless and whatever etc and maybe subconsciously is bringing up a lot of reocurring emotional shit i’ve dwelled on but not cried about much at all this past half year idk. plus i’m just stressed about how much i really want to get done before starting to move and go back to school.

makes sense in explaining most of it in typing it out right now but nonetheless dont like that. isolation has had a lot of awful effects on me (literally i know i’m talking to so many other people in the world now with that its nothing special lol. ‘i was doing this for a year prepandemic’ is a stupid thing to emphasize 1 year is horrible enough and it just blends together) and i’ve long been terrified thinking about how it could be affecting me in more unforeseen and/or longterm ways but i think i was thinking i had a general sense of how my trouble with interacting with people again would manifest and i really dont like seeing that like. i literally did not fucking know how to connect my emotions and other shit recently to that til right now. better than not connecting it at all of course but i dont like it feeling so unconnected. in general have been very disconnected from emotions even outside of social interaction type stuff so of course thats something to work on too but idk just scary to realize maybe i dont even know the general shape of how my trouble “reintegrating into society” is gonna look like lol. and while i’m hoping it will feel better (but honestly probably a lot more intense emotions even if positive) with realizing this know i really even more cannot even begin to imagine how seeing people ive been close to in the past again will end up going when i get to that

#cpost

[theratopia]

Start over

Hi, friends,

How are you doing? Somebody should ask.

I feel like I’m contractually obligated to send at least one question per year, and it’s already June. I started writing this update in April, but you’ll understand why it took me so long to finish this in a few moments.

I have been inside my house for over a year now, since April 2020. To be precise, I went to the doctor once in July, then across the street twice in November to vote, then out once more this month for another doctor’s appointment. Between those, I spent stretches of 4 to 7 months inside my house. Do I feel like I’m losing contact with reality? A little bit. Another reason to reach out and tell you how life is in Groundhog Day-land, and thank you for all the support.

The reason why it’s taking me over a month to write this is twofold: I started a room renovation in late March, and when I got close to the end of it, I got Covid-19 again. “Again?”, you would ask me. Ah, yes, again. Because apparently staying inside for a whole year is not enough. We are not sure what caused the first contamination, but the most recent was caused by a birthday party. The neighbors downstairs invited half of their family to drink and yell during a Saturday afternoon. A few days later all inhabitants of all four houses in our complex begin presenting symptoms. For my sister and me, it was the second episode; first for my parents.

Many times in my life I have dealt with the fear of dying or losing a family member. There is no getting used to it. We were in a constant state of panic for two weeks. Even though I recovered well, I am now dealing with post-Covid syndrome, which is a thing and it’s as fun as it sounds. So, not only I have to kick this disease in the balls twice and tell death “not today”, but I also have to tell the lasting effects to fuck off already.

Oh, and the neighbor who started all this? By my estimations, he contaminated between 14 and 20 people. And then he died. But don’t worry, he was a piece of shit. His family is acting like nothing happened, receiving guests almost daily.

Pandemic? Who’s she?

But please, when does it end?

Vaccination is a desire for the future, but it should be coming sooner rather than later since some mayors have decided to compete which town finishes immunization faster. Thankfully, all my grandparents are fully vaccinated and my immediate family got at least their first shot. In my household, I’m the only one still waiting. Best case scenario, I get the first shot next month and the second one a month later. Or it could be postponed to September, with a three month waiting period for the second shot. Until then, continuous isolation is the safest bet.

So here I am to tell you how have I been surviving inside.

Most of my life during these 14 months has been confined to a desk, a chair, and the lower bunk bed. I don’t even have the entire room for myself. The majority of my day happens within an area of 16 sq. ft. I measured. Don’t get me wrong, I am still able to recognize my privilege of being able to not go out for as long as I have. However, as much as I enjoy staying inside, feeling trapped I do not. I am unable to physically move anywhere, which translates into feeling like I can’t move forward with my life. Barstow is still Barstow, but now smaller and more dangerous.

So, to escape and to exercise my stubbornness of not giving up I had to come up with strategies to grow inwards.

I tell you all this because I know that the PodTherapy community was and is a great source of inspiration to better myself even when everything feels hopeless. This show keeps me grounded and motivated. I started working out of Nick, I have been journaling more because of Jim, I have been trying to keep myself busy with projects around the house because of Jacob. I listen to you every week and I feel less alone. The therapod community and the scoop community are the only reasons why I look at Twitter, which I had to abandon for weeks because I realized it was making me so hopeless that I started to shut down mentally and have physical effects of anxiety. I have been avoiding the news too because it literally raises my blood pressure.

To forge some type of normalcy into my hermetic life, I have been focusing on keeping a schedule that separates the days with different tasks. Time has a bit of meaning again and things get slowly done. I need to move my body and my mind, otherwise, the dread makes me numb.

I have realized how strong I am, which is a weird one. I am also once again grateful to have a supportive and loving family that is still happy to be together after all this. I’m tired, but I’m fine. Oh, and the “focus on the now” advice is not the best one when the present is this. I have to cling to a future. I have to tell myself that whatever I’m doing now is because it will improve tomorrow. And, sometimes, to remind me of how much I have conquered so far, I find refuge in the good memories.

I guess it’s all of this and The Sims, that’s how I’ve been keeping myself sane.

If I could I would write much more because I love to add a bit of a South American, LGBT+, female flavor to this American white dude conversation. I threatened you that I was going to write in every week, so we’ll see how long this bit lasts.

I understand that in the US the pandemic seems to be over and you guys are all happy about it, but that’s just not real. The pandemic is not over. And remember that if your country has an abundance of vaccines to reach the majority of your population it’s because the rest of the world was left with the scarcity.

Now, I have simple questions. Am I doing it right? What else do I do? Is there anything else I can do living this mandatory recluse life?

Miss you all very much,

Triple hug,

The Mayor

#podtherapy #theunproductiveblog #letters #podcast #personal

[loosenedidylls]

Blessings, Curses, Autism

My earliest memories are of waiting rooms with musty carpets and buckets of donated, broken toys. I guess it was worse for my parents, who had nothing to stare at but walls and trashy lifestyle magazines. Eventually, the professionals decided I had a condition called Asperger’s Syndrome, and there was one thing they wanted me to understand:

“It’s a blessing, not a curse.”

If someone asked me to list blessings off the top of my head, I’d mention 20/20 vision, pitch-perfect hearing, or George Foreman’s chin — not a neurological disorder that transforms the most natural stages of personal development into a confusing struggle. In hindsight, I would have preferred more concrete advice than ‘it’s a blessing, not a curse.’ Something like:

“Watch out for the train!”

…But the quippy slogan is what stuck. My parents dispensed it like a cheap plaster, and I still don’t know whose benefit it was for — mine, or theirs. What I do know, is that I never once believed them: I felt I was being brushed aside, or told to accept something blatantly untrue. Besides, children don’t care to question whether they’re blessed or cursed, so it was an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked. Existentialism is for adults trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Being an Autistic Child.

Autism is not a superpower. Thanks to certain pieces of popular media, you might think of autistic people as quirky-yet-brilliant detectives, awkward-yet-sexy hackers (always female), or nonverbal children with a deep, instinctive connection to whatever animal or alien the protagonists are trying to communicate with. Often, people with severe autism are plot devices in the same vein as a forbidden orb or set of nuclear launch codes. Instead of damsels waiting for Bruce Willis to save them, they’re objects waiting for Bruce Willis to understand them.

A lot of autistic people are brilliant academically, though not for the reasons you might think. A common feature of autism is hyper-fixating on ‘special interests’, obsessing over a subject until one has learned everything about it, before moving on to the next. Very few people become maths geniuses this way; more often they become diehard Sonic fans or start giving lots of money to Games Workshop. Here are a few of the phases I went through:

-          Thomas the Tank Engine.

-          Pokémon.

-          Old English monster myths.

-          Naruto.

-          Peter Jackson’s King Kong (both the movie and the video game).

-          Bleach (the anime, thankfully, not the cleaning product).

Fairly normal interests for a young person, right? Now remember the hyper-fixation part. People with Asperger’s tend to focus on certain interests at the expense of others, and those ‘rejected interests’ are usually vital for social development. Now remember that high school is a psychopathic hellscape crawling with cruel little monsters ready to vent their newfound territorial instincts on anyone who doesn’t fit in. The kid who wants to discuss the depiction of brontosauruses in a sort-of-okay remake of a 1933 movie isn’t doing himself any favours — constant bullying drives him even deeper into reclusive interests and solitary hobbies, and from there, it’s the luck of the draw whether those hobbies resonate with any of the kids around him.

I’ve always known a lot about things no one knows about, and nothing about things everyone knows about. This, along with the fact that a lack of social life makes it easy to focus on one’s studies, creates the illusion that some autistic kids are eccentric geniuses-in-the-making. Parents — especially the parents of autistic children — are quick to latch onto any display of intelligence. They watch intently for any sign their long struggle is paying off, and when it happens, they praise their child endlessly, reinforcing behaviour patterns both good and bad. Because adults told me I was intelligent, I told other children I was intelligent, and you can imagine how well that went.

This misapprehension — confusing a bunch of random trivia for genius — followed me into high school, hurting me all the while, which is ironic, because it was the only positive way I could think about myself.

I’m lucky to have found books and writing as lifelong passions, but that almost didn’t happen; in fact, I used to despise any writing task the teacher set for me, to the point of outright refusing to do the work. In my defence, I was trying very hard to be somewhere else at the time — mentally, that is. The idea of putting my feelings on paper, for all to see? I couldn’t conceive of anything more terrifying.

Harry Potter changed things. I was gifted The Deathly Hallows when it was first published, and even though I had no idea what was going on in the story (I hadn’t even seen The Order of the Phoenix yet), I thought it was wonderful — maybe because I was getting a sneak peek into a future movie. Since then, I’ve always had a book close at hand, and it wasn’t long before I started writing my own novels (more on those another time).

 Voracious reading was, technically, another un-social activity that would consume my waking hours, but at least it was productive. My grades improved dramatically. I got good at writing essays. I became better at expressing myself, and I started to consider other people’s points of view. I made friends, lifelong bonds. I wouldn’t say I was happy at that stage of life — bullies tend to push back against things like improved mental health — but at least I was growing.

Looking back, I can’t help but wonder how close I came to disaster. I was 13 or so. If I’d left it any later, I doubt the outcome would have been so peachy. There are plenty of autistic adults with no friends, no employable skills, no human contact but ageing parents and rare, fleeting therapy sessions. Many of these people are quirky and brilliant, but there’s no happy ending for them.

Being an Autistic Adult.

Autism never goes away. It never gets ‘better’. It isn’t curable because it’s not a disease, despite what the vaccine deniers might tell you; autism is an intrinsic part of my neurological makeup, and living with it is a process of compromises.

I had to accept, early on, that I’m not the same sort of human being as the people around me. My brain is a different brand of brain: it makes different connections, processes different bits of data at different speeds. Things that seem obvious to you, need to be explained to me. I struggle to read a room, and I’m never quite sure if the person I’m talking to would really rather I shut up.

Put simply, my childhood experiences made me keenly aware of myself as an outsider. I need to watch for people’s reactions to anything I say or do, all the while navigating a maze of social cues and left-unsaids — but sooner or later, I’m always going to slip up. When you are differently-brained, it’s easy to misinterpret instructions, or to misjudge which thread of discussion is most important; and when you’re processing so much data at any one time, small-yet-vital points are going to slip under the radar. The result is being told off, being laughed at (‘laughing with you, not at you’ is another fun slogan I’ve learned to endure), and generally feeling stupid or useless for overlooking one point of data among hundreds.

 As I grew into an adult, I got better at performing normal. Nowadays, only those who spend a lot of time around me can spot the signs of my condition: I seem confident, funny, sympathetic, and I make friends easily. As I write this, I can’t help but feel uneasy: it makes me wonder, and not for the first time, how much of my personality is genuine. In high-stress situations, the generic piece of advice is ‘relax and be yourself.’ Succeeding in life as an autistic person means learning not to be yourself, or at least creating a version of yourself that can exist in public — so, where does the real me end, and the performance begin? Are they one and the same? I’ll never know the answer to that question.

Being an autistic adult, then, means pretending I’m not autistic for the benefit of other people. It’s a lifelong, often exhausting performance, and the temptation to retreat into my shell is ever present. But, just like anyone else, I long for human contact, so the compromise is a necessary one.

Blessings & Curses: Redux.

Terry Pratchett wrote that humans need to learn to believe the little lies so they can believe in big ones. There’s something I wish I knew during the bad years; that I was far from the only person suffering from my condition. My parents were stumbling in the dark just like me, except they had to pretend everything was under control.

My dad confided in me, recently, how he used to cry — a lot — during those days when I would return from school after another worst day of my life, talking about footballs thrown at my head, being cornered and verbally abused, or being removed from class after another tantrum. These were practically daily occurrences, and they’ve left their lifelong marks on me, but I’ve never lacked for brilliant people willing to help, people who were alongside me in my suffering. Raising a child is hard, and raising a neurodivergent child is even harder. Can I blame my parents for wanting to believe in blessings, and not curses?

Most of the time, those bad years seem like a distant memory. I don’t see autism as my blessing or my curse; it’s just a part of me — a frustrating, limiting, often embarrassing part of me, but one just as vital as my eye colour or ethnicity. I’ve come to accept it and be content despite it, and I suppose that’s the best outcome I could hope for.

#autism #neurodivergent #mentalwellness