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2006. A lot can happen in two years. Mike looked back at how it all started. Bria and Jason were both in rehab for their respective drug problems. He moved in with his little brother to help out once he was discharged. At the time, he was trying to maintain his own sobriety whilst balancing his relationship with Dave. He was exhausted at times and he needed to remind himself to rest. She was getting the help she needed. There was nothing else he could do.
He and Jason established a routine. They took turns getting groceries, making dinner and doing chores. Admittedly, it was a light in the darkness. They became closer than they were in years. They got to know each other better as brothers. Sometimes, they shared childhood memories. It helped him see that his brother had the same disease of addiction as he did.
The house was chaotic at times. Bria and Jason invited Mike, Dave, Brad and Jack to move in with them. They had more than enough rooms. Mike and Dave shared a room, whereas Brad and Jack had their own rooms. The six of them had a house meeting to discuss their living situation. It was just so everyone knew what was going on. The master bedroom was off-limits. The exceptions were for laundry or emergencies. Everyone would keep their bedrooms clean.
They would also help out with groceries and taking the dogs out. If they were the only ones home and they had to use the bathroom, they would take them outside. She would scoop the litter boxes because they were her cats. The house was drug and alcohol-free. That included wine for cooking. Jack brought up alcohol-free beer or wine.
After talking about it, they decided not to have it. It was too risky. Everything else was free to use. They would let each other know they were having “adult time” before they walked into any awkward situations. They laughed. She put up a wall calendar in the kitchen for them to use. Living together was a social experiment. They had no idea how it would work out. They agreed to try it for one year before deciding whether or not to continue the arrangement.
It was awkward at first because they were learning each other’s personalities. Bria was not sociable until after breakfast. She went to bed late and slept in. Jack and Brad were learning how she had a one-track mind at times. They were also learning about her bipolar disorder and how it affected her. Mike and Dave were better at helping her through her symptoms.
The paparazzi caught her and Brad having dinner with Bradley. They were not only sitting next to each other, but they left in the same vehicle. They talked with Mike and Jason about whether they should address the rumours of their alleged affair. Jason didn’t care either way. It was none of their business. In Brad’s experience, they would talk about it no matter what. It was better to get ahead of it before it got out of control. They liked to make things worse than they were.
Bria ended up in the emergency room after accidentally eating something that was decidedly not gluten-free. She threw up. Her insides felt like they were being ripped apart. Dave comforted her as they waited for the doctor. It was an accident. He texted the house of their location.
What happened? Is she okay? – Jason
Yes, she’ll be okay. She’s having a gluten attack and threw up. The doctor has her on an IV drip to keep her hydrated. I don’t know how long we’ll be here. She’s going to have to take it easy for twenty-four hours when we get home. I’m going to go through and make sure she has all of her food separate from ours. Just so we can avoid cross-contamination. This was an honest mistake. I’ll let you guys know when I have more information. – Dave
It was an honest mistake. Brad and Jason helped Mike go through the food. They checked the labels before separating her food from theirs. She was given shelves in the pantry away from everyone else’s. When they were done, he replied letting him know. They even made a sign with her name on it to remind them not to touch anything.
Thank you! She’s starting to feel better. It looks like we should be home within a few hours. It just depends on when the doctor thinks it’s safe to discharge her. – Dave
After being in the hospital for five hours, they were discharged. He pulled the car up to the front of the hospital. The media were already there to get pictures of her coming out. He went back inside and alerted the nurses about the situation. They would have security escort them out to protect her. He had no idea how they found out about where she was. It made him angry because it was not the time to get pictures of her. His biggest concern was getting her out safely.
The security guards had them back up. They took pictures of her as she walked out. She put her arm in front of her eyes because she couldn’t see. Dave helped her to the front passenger seat. He opened the door for her. After closing it, he thanked the security guards for helping them before getting into the driver’s seat. They were able to drive off without hitting anyone.
The guys made up the couch for her. They got pillows and blankets to make it comfortable. When they got home, they helped her inside and over to the couch. She sat down and wrapped herself in the blanket because she was cold. Brad sat next to her. She rested her head against his shoulder.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. The damn paparazzi was there. I don’t know how the hell they knew where I was.”
“They’re stalkers. Were you okay getting to the car?”
“Yeah. We had security guards help us get out”, Dave reported.
“Good. We moved your food, so it doesn’t come into contact with ours.”
“Thank you. This was an honest mistake.”
They agreed. She was tired from not feeling well and being at the hospital. They had her lie down to rest. He covered her with the blanket. They then left her alone. The animals came over to see if she was okay. Micha jumped up and sniffed her. He then curled up beside her and fell asleep. Kate whimpered because her human was sick. She wanted her to feel better.
She was called away by Jason. He got down to her level before reassuring her she was okay.
“Okay, human.”
With that, she went to find Misty and Growler. They were in their crates. Growler was chewing on a stuffed duck. He held it down with his paw to prevent it from escaping. Misty was content with watching everything happen around her. The cats were annoying her. She was happy to be away from them. Princess followed Dave around like a shadow. He laughed when he noticed.
Henry and Micha were at their bowls begging for food. They were empty and they were going to starve to death! How could they be so cruel to let them starve? Jason bent over and shook them because they still had food left. The bowls were refilled like magic! They sniffed it before eating. Their stomachs filled up. Jack was watching them in amusement. They were dramatic. However, Misty was right behind them on the drama scale. They laughed because it was true.
@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon
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"You think every little thing you experience is some kind of illness" actually I just keep finding out that things I thought were normal experiences are in fact very much not
#m/cc#'you know you can lower your difficulty settings on life right?' 'wait I'm not on standard difficulty?'#anyway just found out I probably have tonsil stones and that 'regularly getting a piece of food in this one part of your throat that#takes severe effort to get out (and often just doesn't come out)' is Not a thing that happens#you know what is a thing that happens#reoccurring tonsil stones#didn't realize until I saw a pic and was like '?!'#anyway if you're surprised when I get a diagnosis I can assure you that I am probably even more surprised#'wait I have [problem]?!' 'yes.' 'but I have no symptoms?' 'except [symptoms].' 'but everyone experiences that.' 'NO ONE experiences that.'
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AU where the DickKory wedding doesn’t happen as planned like in the comics, but here its because their friends, instead of just gossipping to each other about ‘what Dick did’ and how this is a mistake because he’s just trying to prove something and Kory’s just going along with it because she was shaken up by what happened too and kinda feels a need to feel/see it proven by him....
And instead, the other Titans (specifically looking at Wally, Roy, Garth and Donna, seeing as how those were the four who had plenty to say to EACH OTHER about their concerns but without any - except for Donna to Kory, and I maintain it wasn’t exactly the RIGHT thing to say - actually saying it TO them)....
No, instead here, they sit Dick and Kory down and ask why they’re really doing this and what's it all actually for, and when it comes out that Dick literally proposed in the heat of an argument about trying to convince Kory he never would have slept with Mirage if he’d known she wasn’t Kory, that she’s the only one he wants to be with and he was just desperate for her to believe it....well FINALLY this clusterfuck of chuckleheads pulls their heads out of their collective keister and starts looking at how FUCKED UP Dick is over all of this, and thinks back to the many, MANY times and ways he’s clearly displayed feelings of being deeply violated by what happened and how he was tricked, manipulated, didn’t want any of this, etc, etc.
And because they’re actually superheroes who are familiar with victims of all kinds and not dumbasses who are so quick to blame the lifelong friend noted specifically by everyone who meets him for his enduring LOYALTY at all times, in all cases - in fact, how often do these very same people give Dick shit about being TOO loyal to people even when they don’t deserve it, like when has an ability to commit EVER been this man’s problem, like who are you even talking to here - and like.....they finally get their heads on straight and go hang on, let’s take a beat. I feel like we maybe rushed to judgment and didn’t totally think through what happened here and now we’re thinking it sounds a lot more like rape which means Dick did nothing wrong and has nothing to prove and Kory can reaffirm what she’s always believed and only had shaken for a time, that Dick’s love for her is real and honest.
And they can then without any hurt feelings or implications as to the longterm viability of their relationship, call the wedding off as they recognize the proposal for what it actually WAS, aka part of Dick’s literal ongoing trauma response as he tried to reconcile his deep-down knowledge that he was a victim here, he’d been victimized, violated and betrayed by someone he had trusted to be a teammate, not unlike other times he’s been betrayed by people like Terra or had to feel the visceral feelings of betrayal even when it wasn’t their fault, like more recently when it was a possessed Joey who was mocking Dick while holding him captive and then y’know, getting murdered right in front of him, and Dick is very much not OKAY because of all of this.
Because its all hitting him in places where he is PARTICULARLY vulnerable because of parallel experiences he can’t help but associate with betrayal and manipulation and the subsequent experiences/feelings of being turned on and blamed by his friends for what he feels then is his responsibility to take sole accountability for, so all of this is very familiar, hits right to the bone of a lot of Dick’s core issues, and this time it just happens to all be compounded by the betrayal/victimization being deeply personal in a way none of the prior situations were, as well as being compounded by how nobody else seemed to even recognize he’d BEEN a victim.
And then by focusing on THAT instead of just gossipping about the SYMPTOM of his not being okay that was his shotgun proposal - which they all literally agreed only happened because Dick wasn’t okay - Dick and Kory can just mutually agree that they aren’t actually ready to get married, something both of them actually were very aware of and just trying to pretend otherwise, but they can further agree that its not a BAD thing they’re not ready to get married, it doesn’t mean they’ll NEVER be in the right place to get married, that this just isn’t it. Them not being actually ready to get married here and now, that has nothing to do with their RELATIONSHIP and everything in the world to do just with the specific reasons the proposal even happened, and their feelings and what they hoped to prove/be convinced of because of all that.
Meaning they then take a step back, Dick can get the help he needs with the support of Kory and his friends, and at some future point in his recovery, he and Kory can shift their focus back onto their relationship, mutually, leading to them eventually reaching the stage where they ARE ready to get married and one of them proposes to the other for the actual right reasons (which are really just, hey I love you and I want to marry you, its exactly that deep) and then they do get married and eventually start a family and things are still dramatic and chaotic and superhero-y but DUH, that’s because they’re SUPERHEROES, but they can still have a happy, healthy family life, the Kents do it all the damn time, and so can they....in this case they literally just needed a little help from their friends, so AU where that’s what they give them for their wedding gift. A ‘hey, call off your damn wedding,’ share circle.
Bonus points of course are that if the wedding never happens, DarkSide!Raven is left waiting in the wings and never gets her dramatic entrance moment to be like “Why yes, I object!” and so she misses her window and Kory and Dick are from that point on so surrounded by friends she never gets a good opening to possess Kory with the demon seed, so Kory never has to deal with ANY of that nonsense, because the LAST thing either Kory, Dick or their relationship needs to deal with, is MORE possession/brainwashing/mind control bullshit. Like enough already. They more than filled their quota. Let another happy couple dabble in the Being Possessed or Mind Controlled field for a change. Dick and Kory are MORE than happy to share. They aren’t going for a monopoly here.
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My Critique of Rebuild of Evangelion's Characterization: I originally wrote this post on the Evageeks forum and decided to post it here. It discusses the relationship between Misato, WILLE and the pilots and whether it is realistic and in-character. Warning this post contains spoilers and is very long. Also has references to self-harm and suicide.
With each revelation that comes out regarding the measures WILLE take against Shinji and their own pilots, it becomes more and more unrealistic for me to the point where it's almost comical. Let's go through some of them here:
They wear the explosive DSS chokers 24/7 which will kill the pilots should they risk awakening an Eva.
They are kept in a single room rigged with explosives.
In Shinji's case, he is (intended to be) put in 24/7 solitary confinement with explosives fitted as well.
Shinji is escorted around the wunder whilst restrained on a stretcher. (NOTE: The only time he isn't, is when Sakura takes him to Ritsuko).
It is confirmed in another thread that Misato gave clear permission to the crew for them to shoot Shinji on sight if they suspect he is attempting to get into an Eva.
Now let me attempt to deconstruct these measures one-by-one:
It is understandable that Asuka and Mari wear DSS chokers because after all they are pilots and there is a risk of awakening. However in Shinji's case, he is forbidden from piloting and so there is no risk of awakening (remember Ritsuko did not think NERV would come after him, so they had no reason to think he would escape). So why place the DSS choker on him? Well we have already established it is simply because they have a resentment against him; there is no special, pragmatic reason. Is this realistic? Well I would say no for reasons I will explain later but I can certainly understand why others may say it is.
I don't think I will understand why they would keep their two main "soldiers" if you will, in an explosively rigged room. I believe others have stated that from a tactical point, it's an extremely dumb move on WILLE's part. After all, if Asuka and Mari didn't have plot armor, what's to stop Gendo from tricking WILLE into killing their own pilots with these explosives? How would WILLE stop Gendo then? Will they use Shinji? No, for reasons I will state later. And another thing, we know that their rooms were already fitted with explosives so why on Earth would they add extra after the events of Q (when they stopped 4th impact). What do they hope to achieve with more bombs? Make the pilots more "deader" than they already are? In my opinion, this doesn't even come across as paranoid but just plain childish. Is this measure realistic from a story standpoint? No not in my eyes.
We know they intended to put Shinji in a solitary cell as this is what they do in Shin. If it was solitary confinement on it's own, then I believe it would be a realistic measure that would happen in real life. However I believe the writers did not factor in the effects of solitary confinement (especially one that is rigged to explode) on fully grown men; never mind a 14 year old who's just come out of a 14 year coma. Many people think solitary confinement is a walk in the park so I made another post a while ago highlighting why that's not the case:
"I remember when before Shin came out people here theorized that if Shinji stayed on the Wunder, they would eventually softened to him and let him help in ways that wouldn't have involved piloting. However with these revelations it looks like they intended to keep him in an isolated room far from everyone else that is (presumably) rigged with explosives as well as keeping the choker on his neck. Not even allowed to freely leave his cell without WILLE's permission (it is unlikely they would let him out judging from these measures).
Even though Asuka and Mari were treated like this as well, at least they had each other and were able to leave as they had responsibilities in piloting. But Shinji was forbidden from piloting and was to be kept by himself except maybe being checked up on by Sakura now and again. So judging from these leaks (we will have to wait to properly see the full context) WILLE intended to lock Shinji in solitary confinement.
I have copied and pasted some of the effects of Solitary Confinement from Wikipedia below:
“Psychiatric: Research indicates that the psychological effects of solitary confinement may encompass "anxiety, depression, anger, cognitive disturbances, perceptual distortions, obsessive thoughts, paranoia, and psychosis." The lack of human contact, and the sensory deprivation that often go with solitary confinement, can have a severe negative impact on a prisoner's mental state that may lead to certain mental illnesses such as depression, permanent or semi-permanent changes to brain physiology, an existential crisis, and death.
Self-harm: According to a March 2014 article in American Journal of Public Health, "Inmates in jails and prisons attempt to harm themselves in many ways, resulting in outcomes ranging from trivial to fatal." Self harm was seven times higher among the inmates where seven percent of the jail population was confined in isolation. Fifty-three percent of all acts of self harm took place in jail. "Self-harm" included, but was not limited to, cutting, banging heads, self-amputations of fingers or testicles. These inmates were in bare cells, and were prone to jumping off their beds head first into the floor or even biting through their veins in their wrists. A main issue within the prison system and solitary confinement is the high number of inmates who turn to self-harm. Many of the inmates look to self-harm as a way to "avoid the rigors of solitary confinement."
Physical: Solitary confinement has been reported to cause hypertension, headaches and migraines, profuse sweating, dizziness, and heart palpitations. Many inmates also experience extreme weight loss due to digestion complications and abdominal pain. Many of these symptoms are due to the intense anxiety and sensory deprivation. Inmates can also experience neck and back pain and muscle stiffness due to long periods of little to no physical activity. These symptoms often worsen with repeated visits to solitary confinement.
Social: The effects of isolation unfortunately do not stop once the inmate has been released. After release from segregated housing, psychological effects have the ability to sabotage a prisoner's potential to successfully return to the community and adjust back to ‘normal’ life. The inmates are often startled easily, and avoid crowds and public places. They seek out confined small spaces because the public areas overwhelm their sensory stimulation.”
And this is just for solitary confinement. There are so many other things going on with and happening (or could happen) to Shinji such as the things below:
Shinji being only 14 years old.
Shinji being abandoned and neglected by his father.
Shinji being coerced/emotionally blackmailed to pilot Unit 1.
Shinji seeing girls he cared for "die".
Shinji being in a coma for 14 years.
Shinji being told he has a bomb on his neck.
Being told it is because he is being punished.
Being told he cannot pilot the eva anymore (he is effectively "useless" now).
Have his former co-pilot and friend try and punch him after he thought she was dead.
[Potentially] being told he started NTI and devastated the world.
[Potentially] being told that the girl he tried to save is "gone" and that she was a clone of his mother.
Being imprisoned in a cell (presumably) surrounded by explosives and not being able to freely leave.
Be completely isolated from everyone except when being checked up by a girl who's father he got killed. (NOTE: Mari might want to see him so Shinji at least has her, maybe).
Have his mother figure (the woman who made him pilot the eva the most) threaten to detonate the choker around his neck and blow his head off when he tries to leave.
With the above list, is it any wonder his head is so messed up? I understand the purpose of these films is all about growing up and taking responsibility but expecting Shinji to willingly allow himself to be subjected to the treatment WILLE had in store for him is pure, unadulterated masochism. Much of what was is written here can safely be considered cruel, inhumane and arguably, torture.
There is a massive difference between taking responsibility for one's mistakes and just letting the whole world torture you because you did something bad. My main fear and problem with Q and Thrice is that their main theme, which is accepting responsibility, is equated with accepting unreasonably cruel treatment. And I just think that is an EXTREMELY unhealthy message to send to people especially if they are depressed or live in abusive relationships."
When you take all these into account, does it place into perspective how messed up Shinji would have been had he stayed on the wunder? This is assuming that they thought they would never have a need for him, but as we find out in Shin, they needed Shinji in the end to defeat Gendo. If Shinji never left with Mark 09 and Misato successfully kept him "protective" custody, then one of three things would have happened when WILLE actually needed him to save everyone:
A: He would not have been in the mental state to pilot Unit 1 and Gendo would have completely wrecked him due to shit synch ratios.
B: He would have told Misato and co. to fuck off and die. We've seen this nihilism before from Shinji (after the 5th angel). His incarceration alongside the humiliation and guilt from wearing the choker will have ratcheted up by a million.
C: He wouldn't have piloted because he would have killed himself. There's only so much a 14 year old can take and when subjected to a fate that causes even hardened criminals to resort to self-harm, genital mutilation and suicide, then what chance does Shinji have?
Now back to my original point, do I think this measure is realistic? I would like to say yes if it was the solitary on it's own, however when combined with the other things, then I think the chances of Shinji commiting suicide is extremely high to the point where it's not believable for him to continue as an anime protagonist. You have to make sure the protagonist goes through difficulty in order to experience growth and change, however if you make it too harsh (to the point of committing suicide) then it seems less believable that they live to continue the story. On a separate note, many people think that Shinji was immature for leaving with Mark 09 the first chance he got and that this is proof that he is, in Asuka's words, a "brat". But let's be realistic, if this story is about Shinji's growth and maturation, then how exactly would WILLE's treatment of him be conducive to that? The truth is WILLE's sheer hostility towards him would have completely stunted any emotional growth and maturation in Shinji and it would have destroyed the point of the film. Also no-one can argue that WILLE would have eventually "come round" or "softened-up" towards Shinji because even after 14 years they still don't trust their own pilots. So yeah, Shinji most likely would have been stuck in solitary with a bomb around his neck until he either killed himself or the war ended (but even this doesn't guarantee his freedom).
Regarding the stretcher business. I don't understand why you have to restrain Shinji on a stretcher when the kid has already surrendered himself and has come voluntarily. Maybe WILLE are just full of bondage fetishists; it would certainly explain the chokers as well.
If the DSS chokers and the explosive rooms weren't enough, Misato actually gave orders to the crew to shoot Shinji if they thought he was trying to pilot again. At this point, I just think this is just overkill. I mean the kid has a bomb on his neck that prevents him from awakening an Eva, you intended to keep him locked up even though he can't really leave the wunder except with outside help and now you intend to shoot him if you think he'll get into an Eva. The problem with this, is that piloting an Eva requires all the bridge-bunnies to sortie the damn thing. Shinji cannot enter Unit 1 by himself, especially since the thing is being used as an engine so why do they assume that Shinji is capable of being Sam Fisher and sneaking into Unit 1? We see that Sakura and Midori are actually willing to shoot Shinji in 3.0+1.0 and do so when he merely suggests that he pilot Unit 1. But seriously what harm would Shinji have done in Unit 1 considering the fact that Gendo was already going to start another impact anyway? Why actively try and kill (or injure in Sakura's case) the only guy that can save your ass? One cannot argue that they were just being "desperate or panicking" because in Midori's case, she actually takes the time to confirm her orders from Misato. This shows that at least, she was still of lucid mind. This particular altercation just beggars belief in my mind and the fact that Misato actually gave those orders on top of all the other measures is absolutely extraordinary. So as you can imagine, I do not think this was realistically executed.
However, I can already hear some detractors say: "So what? Misato hesitated to detonate the DSS choker and also took a bullet for Shinji. She redeemed herself from putting the DSS choker on him and the kill-order for if they thought he would try and get into an Eva."
And to those people I say….not really. There is an idiom attributed to Benjamin Franklin and it goes like this: "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." How does this apply to Misato and Shinji's relationship? Well Misato wouldn't have had to hesitate to pull the trigger if she didn't put it on him in the first place. Misato wouldn't have had to take a bullet for Shinji, if she didn't give permission for the crew to shoot him in the first place. Let's take this following dialogue for example:
916-929:
Kitakami: "It's a good thing we got Major Shikinami back. But why'd we have to take that disease along with her?"
Aoba: "Just leave it alone. Better than Nerv still being able to use him."
Tama: "If he tries to get into an Evangelion, all hands have permission to shoot on sight. There's nothing to worry about this time."
Kitakami: "Come on, that's all for show. The last time he broke out of here, the Captain couldn't put him down. I've got zero trust about this time either."
Nagara: "He was a kid. I can understand why she'd hesitate."
Kitakami: "That 'kid' caused Near Third Impact and murdered my entire family!"
Hyuga: "Near Third was a consequence of what he did, not his goal. The Captain's doing her best to atone for that too."
Takao: "That's right. She's who Kaji entrusted with Wille, and it's our job to trust the captain."
We learn a few things from this dialogue. Firstly, the older WILLE members are much more understanding to Shinji and Misato's situation: Aoba and Hyuga understand that it's better to keep an eye on Shinji and that he never meant to start NTI, Takao is one who always trusts Misato's judgement and Sumire understands that Misato would have found it difficult to kill a child, especially one that Misato was close with.
Secondly, it appears that the younger WILLE members (Midori, Sakura and Tama) are the ones that are fearful/hateful towards Shinji (NOTE: Tama is a strange case, he strikes me as the sort of kid that just follows what everyone else is feeling. He might not feel anything towards Shinji beyond what you'd expect).
Finally it appears that most of WILLE crew members are actually reasonable people and are not the extremely desperate and paranoid individuals some people on the forum believe. Remember this is AFTER Shinji started the 4th impact in Q. The fact that some of the WILLE crew members speak of Shinji in this way, show they are capable of understanding. Most actually trust Misato and respect her judgement except for Midori, who questions Misato's capabilities in following through on her threats.
Which brings me to my next point. Misato has had no hesitation in pulling rank in the past. In 2.0, she even has an altercation with Ritsuko, her best friend, right before they fight the 8th angel. Misato is a woman that will tell even her best friend to STFU, when it comes to doing what she wants. Having said that, (timeskip shenanigans aside) there's no reason why she couldn't have done the same with the younger WILLE crew members. She could have nipped all of it in the bud by telling Sakura, Midori and the rest of them that Shinji was groomed to cause NTI and it was not his fault.
Instead, despite being the captain that everyone loves and fears, she kowtowed to the crew's paranoia and had the pilots fitted with explosive chokers, put in explosively rigged solitary confinement and gave the order to kill Shinji if they feared the worst. This is the sort of thing that drives fully grown men to suicide, never mind 14 year olds that have just come out of a coma. Imagine if Shinji did commit suicide in his cell. Who would Misato and WILLE have turned to in order to defeat Gendo in the end? What if Gendo tricked WILLE into killing their own pilots with the explosives? They would be properly screwed then. If Misato actually cared, as we are led to believe from her hesitation to kill Shinji, then she would have told the rest of the WILLE crew to fuck off, instead of alienating and putting Shinji and the pilots in that much risk. Are we really expected to believe that Misato placed such extreme countermeasures on Shinji just to appease Midori and Sakura? Not likely. This is why I believe that Misato would not have put the DSS choker on Shinji in the first place, and her doing so in Q was extremely unrealistic and out of character, even with anything that happened during the timeskip.
Some of you will say: "Who cares about realism? It's a show about aliens and growing up." While this is true, Anno has proven that he is able to pull the themes off much better when you look at the NGE series. Disregarding the self-contained narrative, it is obvious that the purpose of Q was to bring Shinji to the same point he was at after episode 24 of the series. If we look at how NGE/EOE handled Shinji's depression, we see that it is quite realistic:
The neglect and coercion by the adults in his life, almost dying to angels multiple times, the sexual tension with Asuka, almost killing Touji, finding out Rei is a clone of his mother, Misato putting the moves on him and having to kill Kaworu all culminate towards Shinji's mental state during EOE. Shinji is passively suicidal but it's due to the *situation* and his own introverted tendencies instead of people actively trying to hurt and isolate him. He finds the will to live again due to his mothers words despite knowing just how difficult living might be. If you remove all the Evas and the Angels from the story, the themes that are touched upon (isolation, neglect, misunderstanding) still apply and the audience can still resonate with them.
The rebuilds however go about it completely differently. They bring Shinji to that same suicidal state by having all the characters/plot actively harm Shinji's mental health by:
Putting him in a coma for 14 years so he is completely clueless. Imagine how groggy you are when you wake up in the morning and then multiply that by a million.
Have Misato psychologically castrate Shinji by telling him he won't do anything with a look of disdain on her face.
Have Ritsuko make Shinji feel dread by telling him he has a bomb on his neck and it's because he is being "punished".
Not tell him why he is being punished when he asks Misato.
Have Asuka try to punch Shinji after he thought she was dead.
Tell Shinji the girl he saved is "gone”.
Have his "mother figure" threaten to blow his head off for wanting to leave with the girl you just told him is gone.
Have Asuka and Mari attack Shinji in Lilith's chamber even though Shinji was seemingly willing to listen to them had Asuka not kept attacking. (Watch that scene again and you'll see when Asuka learns what Shinji is trying to do, she stops attacking but instead of explaining that he's being manipulated, she just calls him a brat instead).
Even Mari was willing to potentially kill or cripple Shinji with the Anti-AT rounds. (We don't know what the AA rounds are truly capable of because the only time they are used on screen, they don't work. The round cartridges state that they are armor and AT field piercing and have explicit restrictions on their use. The fact that Mari requires Asuka's explicit authorization to use them imply that they are most likely lethal and would have killed/crippled Shinji had he been in a normal Eva).
Have Shinji's friend's head explode with the device Shinji's "mother figure" actually meant for him. Imagine seeing someone's head explode and then remember that your "mother figure" actually meant that to be for you. That would certainly mess anyone up.
Have Asuka then kick and manhandle him when he is catatonic.
Have Asuka force feed him to the point where he pukes whilst he is still grieving the death of his friend.
Have Shinji only be escorted whilst tied to a stretcher despite him coming voluntarily.
Have Misato place Shinji in 24/7 solitary confinement in a cell rigged with explosives.
Have Misato tell the WILLE crew to shoot Shinji on sight if they think he's getting into an EVA.
Have people tell Shinji that he's being a brat the entire time for reacting badly to all this.
By having Misato, Asuka, WILLE reject and "punish" Shinji so harshly so it kicks off his isolation and desperation, it makes Shinji's "recovery" seem less believable. Anno himself didn't even know how to make Shinji recover psychologically in 3.0+1.0 and he actually had to ask the voice actors on how to make that happen. The story made the WILLE crew go full scorched-earth and in doing so made Shinji's "growth" and his reconciliation with Misato seem impossible.
I have already stated that I believe Q represents "Condemnation" and Shin represents "Compassion" and I think both films pull that off brilliantly. But that doesn't mean I think the characters acted in a realistic manner. I do not believe that Misato would have placed such harsh sanctions on Shinji in the first place for the reasons I have stated above. And if she did, I do not believe that Shinji would have easily forgiven Misato (even IF she took a bullet for him) as we see he does in the film. I do not believe that WILLE were merely "scared and desperate" because as the dialogue above shows, they are surprisingly understanding (but still disapproving) of Shinji's situation despite him literally starting another impact. I do not believe that Misato would have bent over to Sakura and Midori's resentment and taken measures against Shinji, just to ease their minds.
In summary, my main problem with the post-timeskip rebuilds is that I feel they gaslight the audience in thinking that Shinji was just being a "brat" the entire time by having Asuka and Mari say: "You have grown a little/You smell like an adult now." However, the truth is Shinji's been through so much mental suffering perpetrated by the people he cares about, that it's a miracle he's not killed himself. It would certainly break most of us on this forum. The movies seek to show Shinji "finally" taking responsibility when the truth is, the plot went so above and beyond putting him down in such an extreme manner in the first place.
#evangelion#nge#nte#rebuild of evangelion#evangelion 3.0 you can (not) redo#evangelion 3.33#evangelion 3.0+1.0#misato katsuragi#shinji ikari#asuka langley shikinami#mari makinami illustrious#ritsuko akagi#3+1 spoilers#spoilers
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SINoALICE x NieR Replicant - Weapon Stories
A complete compilation of all weapon stories from SINoALICE’s NieR Replicant collab... well, the ones that has lore to do with NieR anyways.
Whatever grammar mistakes/translation errors belongs to Pokelabo, and you will tell there are some. Most are stories are pretty self-explanatory tho.
Grimoire Weiss
We fought for what seemed like ages. To kill those things that took a twisted human form. To protect those precious to me, with my own hands. We were deceived for so long. Deceived by people in a land we've never been, whose faces we've never seen Issuing orders from a safe distance. We must have been in love. And despite the fact I couldn't save you, but I never got to thank you for saving me. These fragments glimmering deep in my depths... they seem to be the vague memories of people... the faded remnants of human wisdom... H-hold on! I’ll have you know my name is not “Booky Wooky!” You may call me "Grimoire Weiss" I am a great compendium of ancient wisdom. Treat me with respect!
Grimoire Noir
My name is the Black Book. Are you the king who will lead the world to salvation? Don't be so surprised, Your Majesty. For me, it is a simple matter to speak human words. I sympathize with your distress, Your Majesty. On this occasion, however, we have no choice but to let them deal with your sister. When sorrow overtakes you, you may come to me and speak of your tribulations. Reading is an admirable pursuit. Your Majesty--for me?? I shall peruse this volume if it comes on your recommendation... What is that? You think it odd for a book to read a book? Noir? I would prefer to dispense with this nickname. My name, Your Majesty, is the Black Book. I am a grand tome of human wisdom... thus, to refer to me by such a curious moniker is, dare I say, inappropriate.
Kaine’s Sword
She was slender, with smooth, white skin. The hint of a dark shadow in her expression highlighted her beautiful features. But something about the sword in her hand didn't seem to fit the picture. Anger, sorrow, hatred. When emotions overwhelmed her, she would swing the sword, so there was never a lack of blood to quench its thirst. The problem was that she couldn't put the sword down. A heart and body in constant conflict. No one in the world could understand her. And loneliness was eating her alive. The long war came to an end, and darkness devoured her. But her heart remained at peace. Because she faced fate in the arms of the one she loved.
Halua Head
File_25_10: Update Soon twins will be arriving. There is nothing at all in the white-walled, prison-like room except for a white bed. If only there were something to do in there... File_25_12: Update I went to look in on them, and the girl was kindly encouraging her anxious younger brother. The two of them had heavy expectations to fulfill. The weight of all humanity's hope bore down upon them. File_26_06: Update The day of the experiment, the girl passed me a letter. To the very end, she wanted someone to watch over her brother. Once I agreed, she quickly ran away. Report: Human Weapon Development Things seem to be progressing as expected with Experimental Subject A (Sister), but her condition has changed drastically. In her present state, she seems to have no sense of self. I am urgently beginning work on Experimental Subject B (Brother).
Devola & Popola’s Staff
---------------------------- Dear Popola, Thanks for that soup recipe! My mom loved it! ---------------------------- A note received from a child in the village. Does this mean they are developing a sense of self? ---------------------------- Dear Popola, Thanks to the medicine you gave me, I'm feeling a lot better, though I can't leave home yet. Just sending a note to say thanks. ---------------------------- According to our records, humans wrote their feelings down on pieces of paper, and sent them to others. Where did they learn to do such a thing? ---------------------------- Dear Popola, I like you a lot. Will you be my girlfriend? Waiting to hear back. ---------------------------- I simply cannot understand the things they have written on these scraps of paper. I feel an unfamiliar feeling, my heart saying “no”�� ---------------------------- Dear Popola, Sorry I couldn't tell you in person, but I'm coming home late tonight. Go ahead and sleep if you're tired. ---------------------------- Ah, Devola. No need to worry about me this way. Tee-hee.
Favorite Pot
Yonah, I learned a special recipe! When you eat it, all your injuries will be gone! Oh! I want everyone to feed it to those they care about!
The ingredients are deer meat, sea turtle eggs, fresh veggies and herbs from the garden, and lastly tons of scorpion claws! Next, fill a pot up with all your ingredients, place the top on, and let it simmer overnight! The white steam rising from it is just so mesmerizing. ...Oh! I think it's ready! Smell for a soft scent when you take the lid off. That means it's done! I can't wait to give it to grandpa.
Transience
"Rule 0: You have the right to disband a rule by vote." I am the king's aide and second-in-command. Until now, all rules have be absolute, however, a "Voting Rite" was held where citizens could vote to change rules. Now, let's see what sort of ballots were made...
"Rule 451: Consuming alcohol is forbidden during the daytime." And stated as the reason is: because I like drinking... Because it's anonymous, all these votes are based off selfish desires. We need to improve the system somehow that reflects public opinion.
"Rule 356: Royal inquiries are limited once per day." And stated as the reason is: because I long to be with the King more...? Could this Fyra's vote...? No. Of course not. She's not the type to be interested in love. Moving on...
"Rule 68: The King's aides are to forever serve at his side" Reason being: Thank you for all your hard work. You deserve a break once in awhile... Could this be from the King himself? I'm honored to have stood by your side all these years. And the citizens of this country are proud of your work. There's no doubt of it.
Note: After rigorous deliberation, "Rule 451: Consuming alcohol is forbidden during the daytime", the most voted for rule, was repealed.
Grimoire Weiss ver.1.224
My name is Grimoire Weiss. I am an ancient tome of profound wisdom. After awakening from my long slumber, I traveled the world with my most beloved friends. She was a woman lacking respect for her elders. She'd continuously talk down to me, calling me nothing but paper and even set me aflame. However... Her rash words were also the driving force that moved us all. He was a compassionate and gentle boy who loved his friends. His manor of dress was odd, but his kind words warmed everyone's hearts. This I know to be true. I wonder if he, too had felt any relief from his sins. He was a cheeky guy, but not one you could just leave behind. We've been through a number of rough times together. I'd tell ya about it, but... I'm running out of time. If... If only I had an arm... Then I could have...hugged...him...
Grimoire Rubrum
It's the silk of fate. Knowing you, I shall begin living a life of truth. It's the forbidden fruit. Protecting you, I shall sink into wisdom's abyss. Those are the flames of anxiety. Thinking of you, I shall endure eternity's darkness. That is a reunion of bitter tears. Who are they? Why is it not me who's besides you?
Kaine’s Dual Blades ver.1.224
I craved it. Blind violence and blood-thirsty carnage. And I found it. I finally found it. A vessel stained with anger and hatred, seeking vengeance for the murder of her parents. I possessed that woman and gave her "power." That power turned the woman into a beast. One swing of her blade was enough to cut through stone and her grazes healed in an instant. She began downing every foe before her in the name of vengeance. I was delighted to witness the fruition of my desires. The woman's destruction didn't end there. After having her revenge, she continued to exert her "power" for the sake of her friends. Along her journey, her anger and hatred showed signs of waning, however, I gave it no thought. All I desired was to continue bathing in her bloodshed. Because her body has reached its limit, her power has lost control. Still, in the midst of the clashing of blades, I could feel her desire to protect her friends. Yes, this is the violence and carnage I crave. But why is it deplorable and empty?
Devola & Popola’s Spear
Upon hearing an old lady from the village caught a cold, I immediately collected my medicinal herbs with some boiled water, and rushed out from the library. I nursed her and remained by her side until her symptoms calmed down. She was extremely grateful for it.
I read a picture book to a group of children from the village. It was of an old tale about a brave, courageous man who triumphs over evil. I watched their expressions alternated between joy to sorrow to the story's pacing. I'm glad they enjoyed it.
Devola and I performed a song for the people at the village tavern. In addition to the regulars who drank there, elders and children were part of the audience. At the end of our song, the entire crowd smiled and cheered.
Every day Devola and I have been staying late at the library thinking of a plan to make life easier for the villagers. They're indispensable "vessels" for the project, so we need to do what we can for them.
Letter to the Postman
I was in a dimly lit cabin when I met a kind man. He taught me how to write a letter. What should I write on a blank piece of paper...? ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――
Apparently, a letter should start off with the name of the person you want to give it to. Of course, I'd want it to be his. I hope he'll be able to read my sloppy handwriting... ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― Hans ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――
At the end of the letter should be the name of the person who wrote it. Of course, that would be the name he gave me. Is it odd my chest feels warm writing it...? ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― Hans Luiz ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――
And in-between these two names, I'm supposed to write how I feel. And tell him what I want the most. I wonder if he'll be happy to receive this...?
―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― Hans, Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you. Luiz ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――
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Strangers [18+]
Toshinori x Female Reader
Did someone say “traumatize poor Toshi”? Hello, I am here to make All Might hate himself for losing control of his pent-up sexual urges. Feral sex and angst! Mmmm
Warning: Dub-con (sex pollen/”fuck-or-die” fic)
Summary: Your neighborhood gets blasted by a new quirk-based drug that makes you irresistibly, painfully, potentially lethally horny. Your libido won’t stop growing until you fuck someone - but you haven’t completely lost your mind! There’s no way you’re going to bone a friend. It has to be someone you don’t know so you never have to talk to them ever ever again.
That blond scarecrow over there will do!
6,264 words | NSFW
You never worried much about getting caught in a love dust attack. It wasn’t that hard to just not have sex with someone, no matter how horny you were.
It was all over the headlines for the past month. An unsolvable string of crimes with this stuff at the center. The media was calling it “love dust” because, well, it was dust, and you can’t say “orgy-riot fuck dust” on the evening news. Think of the children.
After the first attack, authorities thought they were looking for a villain with natural quirk, but a new synthetic drug soon surfaced as the culprit—a concentrated, fine-tuned derivation of a seduction quirk, sold under the street name “Hathor.” Anyone with the right underground connections could get their hands on it, and criminals were getting creative. Release it into the air at a bank, and the guards will open up the vault on the promise of a handjob. Assassinate a CEO and walk out the front door as the heroes sent to stop you turn into a quivering mess on the floor. There have already been a dozen scandals with big-name heroes caught sleeping with civilians at love dust crime scenes.
Kind of pathetic, honestly. Considering how important their reputations are, you’d think they could manage to keep their pants on. Have some self-control.
Although… The effects only last until you do the nasty, so maybe heroes should have a quickie with the nearest volunteer and get back on their feet before the criminals escape.
Or, you know, wear a damned mask.
Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. There were physical symptoms, too. They say those who are unable to find anyone to “satisfy their urges” with experience increasingly severe libido, elevated heart rate, capillary damage, and all sorts of hormonal spikes that sometimes last days. One guy actually died of a heart attack. But you were young and healthy. It couldn’t be that bad.
If you don’t want to fuck someone, just don’t do it.
The night the dust rains down on your neighborhood, you finally understand.
You are sitting at the outdoor café in front of your apartment complex with a few friends when there is a loud pop, like an engine backfiring. The sky fills with a pink haze that glimmers with iridescence in the street lights. It’s beautiful. A few wiser residents scream, cover their faces, and run, but you watch the glittery powder in awe, not making the connection until you’ve breathed it in.
It has a cloyingly sweet scent, like cherry blossoms and bubble gum. Your throat tightens, and your mouth begins to water. A warm tingle spreads under your skin and you start to feel the urge to go home and watch porn.
There is a change in your companions, too. The conversation abruptly stops. Someone next to you moans, and it sends shivers racing straight down between your legs. Your thighs clench together trying to satisfy the growing need as you try not to moan yourself. Hot… it is getting so hot. Your breathing is starting to come out shamefully hard as your arousal rapidly builds, and suddenly watching porn doesn’t sound like nearly enough. You want to fuck someone—anyone, honestly.
Shit.
It finally hits you what you’ve been caught up in. And now you realize why this drug is so dangerous.
It’s the feeling of being on the cusp of an orgasm, where nothing feels more important, more urgent. Rational thought gives way to the singular focus on finishing. You’re so close, oh god… Your walls clench around the nothingness inside you. So empty. Fuck… you want to come, but you need to be filled. You need it.
You could resist the physical symptoms, but the problem you never accounted for is, you don’t want to resist.
All around the street, people are falling on each other, mouths smashing together in wet, sloppy, passion. Your next-door neighbor is dry humping the waitress at the café as she works to undo her uniform. The florist is already fucking a customer’s mouth. Their wet noises and grunting rise into a sexual cacophony that has your cunt dripping, aching. You need to find someone.
Your friend Ren grabs your arm, eyes heavily lidded, a crazed look in their eyes. “Do… you wanna?” they slur, voice thick with the same lust you are drunk on. Your cunt spasms painfully at the offer, and a throaty vibration rumbles deep within your chest. A primal part of you almost starts ripping off your clothes, but the small voice in your head that is still rational forces you to pull your arm out of their grasp. This isn’t right.
Not with a friend. Things would be too weird later. It can't be someone you know.
You mumble something that was meant to be words, and run from the table. Mei grabs Ren’s shoulder and their bodies instantly intertwine in a mess of limbs and sultry moans. She was just starting to get over them. That’ll be trouble tomorrow. That’s why it can’t be a friend—no ruined relationships or awkward next days for you!
The small rational voice says you should go back and pull Mei away—stop her—but if you did that, you’d definitely end up in a threesome. It's all you can do to keep your feet moving away.
You need a stranger.
A spontaneous orgy breaks out around you, bodies tangled and undressing right in the road, cars honking at them, people stumbling out of cars and joining the fray. You pick your way through them. No, no, your inner voice scoffs. None of this is right. As much as you’re burning to be filled, none of this was right.
The musky smell of sex is overpowering. Your walls expand wide as if expecting to be filled, yawning open until the muscles burn, then crashing shut and clenching down hard against nothing. The contractions rock your body so hard it’s difficult to walk, and it isn’t long before the muscles start cramping with overexertion.
Why didn’t you just join one of the writhing piles on the sidewalk? Your heart is beating out of your chest, and you’re deafened by all the blood pounding in your ears. Your eyes dart between faces and exposed body parts, frantically searching, but none of them click whatever primitive part of you is hunting for a mate. With every breath, it feels like you can’t get enough oxygen. You’re drowning.
A convulsing ache rips through your body again. It hurts. It hurts being so empty. What are you waiting for?
Something slips into the front of your pants and starts rubbing your clit—you realize it’s your own hand. It feels good, but doesn’t help. Rational voice reminds you that it won’t help. Skin-to-skin contact was a necessary condition of the quirk; something about pheromones or something? You stagger on, rubbing and fingering yourself, not even caring who sees, none of it bringing you over the edge of the climax that feels like it’s almost there—just a little more! Please!
You turn into the alleyway behind the apartment building. A short passage leading nowhere with a 90-degree crook that serves to hide unsightly utility boxes and storage containers for the complex. It’s quiet here, away from the chaos in the street. Except you hear it… breathing. Deep, half-stifled grunts of a man trying to keep quiet, labored breathing, and a soft, rhythmic slapping emanate from behind the corner.
Struggling toward the source, you see a tall yellow-haired man doubled over. He braces one hand on a metal box set against the wall with wires snaking out of it, while the other hand furiously works his cock. Slap. Slap. Slap. It’s glistening with precum, but his teeth are grit in distress at an orgasm that will never come.
A scarecrow of a man, he looks to be middle-aged, and has a face like a skeleton, with sunken cheeks and eyes lost in deep shadows—all bones and sinew. Definitely a stranger. You would’ve remembered a guy like that.
Something primal thrums within you. Blood surges red-hot in your veins.
Him.
He is perfect.
“Help!” you call out, voice shaky and fevered.
He startles and tries to hide what he was doing, shoving his dick back under his waistband and crossing his legs before turning to you. As if everyone else on the entire block isn't doing the same thing.
When he sees you, desire clouds his eyes. They’re a shocking vibrant blue, though watering with frustration, and they linger on you for what would have been an uncomfortable length of time under normal circumstances, but right now his overt desire is exactly what you hoped to see.
Encouraged, you close the space between you, but he takes a quick step back, staying just out of your reach. At this distance, you realize “tall” was an understatement. He towers above you.
At your close proximity, his hips start rocking of their own accord, his cock striving for relief against the fabric of his pants. You are too close. You smell so good, he wants to devour you. He has to squeeze his legs together and bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to regain his composure.
“I... I can help you, young lady. E-everything will be fine... Are you hurt?” With every ounce of willpower in his narrow body, he forces his voice to sound normal and helpful, and not like he wants to tear all your clothes off. No damned pink dust is going to make him—
He doubles over not in pain, but arousal—a spasm pulsing through his frame—and has to fight to shove it down again. He bites his thin lower lip, but the gesture only makes him aware of the string of saliva dripping out.
“Yes, it hurts.” You’ve still got your hand between your legs and must look as much of a mess as he does. He can’t pretend not to know what you’re asking. “Please… help me,” you ask again, this time dropping your voice into a husky whisper. You lean into him, splaying your hands out on his chest, running them down the rippled bones and muscle beneath his white t-shirt. His hands place themselves instinctively around your hips.
“Do you have a boyfriend? A partner? I’ll h-help you find them.”
Would he really take you to someone you’d be more comfortable having sex with when he could have you for himself? It’s obvious how much he wants you—how much his body is screaming for you just like yours screams for his.
You shake your head. “There’s no one else.”
“I… I can bring you to the hospital…”
He trembles, his breathing is hard and fast, fanning in hot bursts across your neck. You get lost in the smell of him, the salty smell of his precum driving you wild. Your core twitches painfully again, but you’re so close to relief, you let yourself moan with it, and reach for the hard erection in his pants. The outline through the fabric is massive. Beyond massive. You shudder and stroke it greedily.
He draws in a sharp breath at the contact, and the warmth of him spreads out under your palm, spreading through your whole body. His muscles tense, still trying to fight it, but his cock pulses under your touch, betraying his desire.
“Let me feel it,” you beg, slipping your hand through the fly of the pants he was too distracted to zip back up. Your fingertips find it, hot and velvety, and hard as steel.
Even though he’s just as deep under the spell of the dust as you are, he manages to pull away again, another step back, trapping his back against the alley wall.
“N-no, you don’t have to… to do this. I’ll take you to the hospital!”
Not, I don’t want this, you note his phrasing. You don’t have to. How can he be flustered with this need overpowering his every sense? Your entire life is narrowed into a tunnel where all there is and all that matters is being fucked.
Without warning, he doubles over, coughing. Coughing up blood. A lot of it.
He wipes his mouth, grimacing, in obvious pain. A convulsion wracks his body, and he squeezes his thighs together, moaning.
You put your arms out—an honest, compassionate instinct to help him stay upright, but then you’re touching him again, and suddenly you’re pulling at his tall, scarecrow shoulders to bring his body close again.
He’s so strained, blood trickling through grit teeth. Maybe coughing blood is a symptom of resisting the effects for too long. Your own lungs are starting to burn with such intense continual use. Why is he trying so hard to fight it?
“Don’t want… a hospital. Just… fuck me. Please. I want you. So empty... it hurts. I need you to fill me… please,” you pant, desperate to convince him. To talk him out of his shy, moral rigidity.
He swallows, prominent Adam's apple bobbing in his thin neck. He's cute, too, a small, still-conscious voice says, though you barely notice through the pounding, driving urge between your legs. Your clit is so hot it burns, and your pussy is dripping, soaking through your panties so much it’s made a wet spot through your pants. You grind against his leg. It doesn’t give you any relief, but makes you want to fuck him even more desperately.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you...” He looks so sad, so protective when he says those words in his soft, deep voice. Then he cringes as another convulsion hits him, and his hips drive themselves into you as if acting on their own. He’s horrified. A wave of pleasure surges through you, leaving you a babbling mess.
You whimper, desperate for more. “I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me! Help me. I want it, I swear. I want you, please… please.” You're like an animal, mindlessly humping his thigh, grasping at his shirt. “I’ll find someone else if you won’t. Please, it’s the only way to make this stop!”
It’s too much. The urge was so strong even when he was alone, and your body is all over him, awakening things in him.
You’re drugged!
His cock won’t stop throbbing until it finds a warm body to fuck, and your pussy is grinding his thigh, inches away. Relief is so close. It’s unbearable. You’re so cute and helpless—
He shouldn’t!
—disheveled, begging for him to take you. You’re so lewd. It has been so long since he felt desirable, and here you are, begging like the sluttiest of his fans without even knowing who he is, without his power. Driving him wild. Every second like this is torture—his heart pounding so hard, his single lung can’t take it much longer. You want him… You want him as much as he wants you. Why was he refusing, again? All the reasons seem to fall away…
A dam within him breaks.
He lets out a long, shaking breath as if he had thrown open a valve shut off half a lifetime ago, and all the pressure repressed and denied was finally being released. He crumples around you, lanky arms closing around your back, his face burying into your neck with a sob. A line of teeth bite down on you hard enough to bruise.
Your body responds, hips bucking into his, your nails digging into his back, as you scream out in pleasure and pain, “Yes!”
He snarls into your skin, leaving a trail of bruises claiming the length of your neck.
“Fuck, I need this,” he growls between bites, sounding like a completely different person. Sounding starved. With the last pretense of control given up, he is a beast freed from its cage.
His hands slide under your shirt to roughly palm your breasts. You unclasp your bra, and he artlessly pushes it up out of the way, too hurried to remove it.
“I want you so bad...” He kneads your breasts, pushing them together and rolling them apart, thumbs abusing your hard tits while his teeth sink into your shoulder. He is ravenous.
Fuck, he feels so good. You can only helplessly cry out as your body spasms with warmth, pulses of electricity running down your back, your cunt dripping and clenching, but still so empty.
Your lips clash together, wet and eager, nearly missing his mouth as you part and smash together again, but you don’t care. His tongue sloppily reaches for yours, and you open for him eagerly, saliva mingling, his taste entering your mouth—coppery and sweet. This is right, your body tells you. He is just right.
Another torturous spasm rips through your body. This isn’t the time for foreplay. You already feel like someone has been eating you out for five days straight—it’s time to fuck him. You tug your pants and underwear down and let them hang around your calves, not bothering to take them all the way off.
Now. You need him now.
His cock is back out of his pants, slick with precum, and rubbing your entrance. It’s so huge, you wonder how it will ever fit inside you. You would never expect something with that much girth from a guy so narrow. How does he have enough blood to support this thing?
Normally, you wouldn’t actually want a dick that big, but your sex-crazed brain starts drooling. You want to lick it from head to balls, to worship it. The size doesn’t intimidate you. All your muscles are loose and stretched and aching for something to fill them, and only his cock could fill you enough to satisfy this artificially-heightened need.
Rubbing the blunt, throbbing head over your opening, his intense eyes study the way your folds part and twitch around him, and the adorable way you struggle to open your legs wider with your ankles still shackled in your pants.
“Look at you... fuck, you’re perfect.”
So small and cute. So breathless and needy and whining for him.
Before he pushes inside like every muscle in his body is urging him to do, he checks in with you one last time. His sharp blue eyes meet yours, and, sweating and trembling with the effort of holding back, he asks, “You’re sure?”
“Please!” you cry, voice cracking. You jerk your hips to help push the swollen head inside, gasping as you feel the pressure of it spreading your opening.
He needs no more encouragement.
Releasing control over his inflamed libido that took every ounce of his willpower to wrestle down, he thrusts sharply inside you. It knocks the air out of your lungs. A scream tears from your throat at the intense pleasure and discomfort of being finally, finally filled all at once by something so large. He grunts into your shoulder, large fingers digging into your skin as his body shudders and trembles. He pulls back out a little, and thrusts in again.
You clutch at his shirt and his yellow hair, balling them in white-knuckled fists as you sob out, “Thank you. Th-thank you.”
It’s almost too much pressure—almost. Your walls twitch and contract happily around the thick shaft. Satisfaction. This is what your body has been demanding. The pain stops, but the need urges you on stronger than ever.
It won’t let you go until you come.
After a few rough, choppy thrusts, he can’t get enough leverage standing facing you. He pulls out, and your entire body sets off alarm bells in protest, your hands clutch at him, trying to pull him back in. Empty! So empty! It hurts. The fevered look in his eye tells you he’s still as desperate for this as you are. Strong hands flip you around and bend you over the metal utility box, your ass in the air, presented to him.
“There you are,” he purrs.
He meant to enter you again right away, but the view triggers something voyeuristic in his brain. He grabs your whole pussy possessively, rubbing circles over your bare skin with his thumb, spreading your lips apart.
“Look at you. So beautiful.” His voice is thick and husky—drunk. His whole body shudders as you moan for him, pussy twitching around his thumb, hips writhing, whining for him to enter you. “You'll look so beautiful wrapped around my cock…”
Why is he looking at it? If you had any shame right now, you’d be dying of it, but your whole face is already flushed and sweating. Just put it in already!
A low chuckle. “Be patient.” Did you say that out loud? “Fuck, I want you… I need this,” he growls.
“Need it... need you…” you echo, drooling.
His warm chest leans over your back, soft bangs hanging down next to your cheek, his hot breath in your ear. “I deserve a reward, don’t I? Something for myself for once,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, barely audible even with his lips so close. His cockhead rubs against your drenched slit without pushing inside, the pressure of it maddening, teasing.
His muscles tense suddenly, and you brace yourself against the cold steel surface, fingers curling as he penetrates you from behind and sets a relentless pace.
The aphrodisiac already had you dripping and ready, so you feel deliciously split open and stuffed, and not torn by the sudden invasion. The friction and pressure drive you insane, mewling and whimpering as you reach between your legs to stoke your clit. The heat that’s been building up and pooling between your legs without getting any closer to relief is building toward a crescendo now that he’s inside you.
“More,” you whine, even though you’re already past your limit, “Give me everything!”
He starts thrusting wildly, uncontrolled, eager to obey you. His movements are unrestrained and so fast—inhumanly fast. “So good, you feel so good,” he praises, words hitched and slurring. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” A moment of hesitation breaks through the fog, “Am I hurting you?”
“Don’t stop,” you snap, “don’t you dare slow down!”
His sharp hip bones collide with your ass, leaving bruises with every hard thrust, his balls swinging against you, slapping your fingers working your clit, as he frantically jackhammers into you. He’s completely feral, head thrown back, not holding back his strength as he hits you so deep and hard you could break, but it’s exactly what your body wants right now—to be animals.
“Harder!” you urge, trying to jerk your hips up to meet his thrusts, and spread your legs farther apart—but your efforts weren’t enough. However hard he's going, you want even more. Deeper. You want him to rip you in half.
Obeying, his bony hands grip the soft fat of your thighs, yanking you down onto his cock as he thrusts into you. You yelp as he hits something deep and sensitive, and your muscles quiver and melt with gratitude.
It could be minutes or hours that he has been pumping into you with forceful abandon, turning you into a sweaty, quaking mess, sobbing into your arm for his frail body and powerful cock. You’ve lost all sense of time, all sense of sense—of anything besides the sinful friction and being stuffed full to bursting. You may as well be stray cats rutting in the alley. The dark echoes with the steady percussion of flesh smacking into flesh, and a harmony of your own whimpering cries melding into his hard, ragged breathing.
“Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop! It’s so good,” you sing out for him. It must be the effect of the drug, but you have never felt so complete.
He growls low in return, “Mine, you’re mine.”
His arms cross around your chest and he leans his body over you, pressing himself closer and closer to you as his thrusts hit you deeper and longer. Beads of sweat drip from his body, wetting your clothes and your neck. His strong hands serve the dual purpose of holding you firm against him and grasping your breasts, roughly pinching the hard peaks, twisting and pulling.
The sensation is overwhelming—jolts of pleasure ripping through you, shooting through your spine, winding you tighter and driving you closer to the crest. Your fingers work your clit faster until he forces them away with his own hand, taking over, abusing your sex with long, calloused fingers with the same reckless abandon as his fucking you. His erratic breath is humid against your ear. Something breaks inside him, and he starts grunting loudly with every wild buck of his hips like an unhinged beast. Every forceful thrust throws your body forward, thighs striking the edge of the metal container.
“More,” you urge. “More!” You’re so close.
The muscles of his lower abs twitch and contract against your ass, and he bites you hard on the shoulder, bearing down until it draws blood. He lets out a helpless, unrestrained noise that is almost a roar and almost a sob as he empties himself into you, filling you up with so much hot seed you can feel the pressure of it inside you, his release trapped tight against your cervix by the nudging head of his thick cock stuffed as deep as possible.
His fingers circle powerfully over your clit, and it drives you over the edge after him. Your hips jerk, riding his cock as he comes down from his climax, walls clenching around him, milking every drop from his twitching, overstimulated cock.
“Thank you,” you mutter, breathless and slurring, cum dripping down your thigh. “Thank you…”
It's over.
It's over.
Like a veil being lifted, your brain function returns to normal. The fog of lust evaporates and you're back to rational, non-horny you.
What. The fuck. Are you doing?
Oh my god.
An alley. You're in some filthy alley with a total stranger and no condom. Fuck. What the fuck. You're going to have so many diseases.
Your “partner” pulls out, and a flood of semen gushes out from between your legs. Oh, god. How is there so much? Does this guy have some kind of disorder, or is it the love dust’s effect? Either way, it's gross, and starts to feel chilly as cool air hits it and it runs down your thigh.
Purse.
That's right, you have a purse. It's somehow, by pure luck, still attached to your body. You rummage through it, pushing aside keys, and—oh, look, a condom. You roll your eyes. Where—aha, there it is! You knew you had a little pack of tissues. You wad up a few sheets and catch the copious glob of cum before it can run all the way down your leg and sully your pants.
“Uhhh, here,” you offer tersely, really not looking forward to making eye contact now that you’re remembering your actions through the eyes of a sober person. So embarrassing! He probably thinks you’re a slut. Worse—what if he’s some weirdo who thinks you’re his girlfriend now?
You hold out a few tissues so he can clean his sticky red cock, still impressively large even as it softens and begins to droop downward.
Why are you looking at his dick stop looking at his dick!
He doesn’t seem to notice you peeking.
He’s struggling to catch his breath, bangs stringy and clinging to his face and neck with sweat. More than that, he’s vacantly staring at his hands like they might not be his own. Like he hopes they’re not. His eyes snap to the source of movement, and he tentatively takes the tissues you’re holding out to him. The action brings him back to reality somewhat. He blushes and turns his back to you, and gets to work wiping himself off.
Good. He’s not trying to talk to you or anything. He’s embarrassed too. That’s good.
When you’re both dressed and as decent as you’re going to look (though it’s impossible to hide that just-been-ravished glow), you turn to him, lips pressed tightly together.
“Well, that’s that, I guess. Um. Are there any STDs I should know about?”
He jolts out of the quiet stupor he was in, face growing redder at the implication. “Oh! N-no.”
“OK, good. Me neither. Though we should both get tested again anyway.”
It’s unclear whether he processed that, eyes unfocused, only giving a slight nod. “Oh! Oh god!” He lurches backward against the wall, remembering something even more devastating. “We didn't... I didn't use—”
“I’m on the pill. No babies.”
His shoulders relax by a few millimeters, at least that weight off of them, but he's far from relieved.
“Alright, well…” you back away, making finger guns out of nervous, idiotic reflex, eager for this embarrassing scenario to be over with and forgotten. “Thanks for helping me out with… a medical emergency, let’s call it. Hopefully we never see each other again, and never think about what happened today. Ever again!” Yup, that’s about that. “Bye.”
He nods weakly as you walk away. The adorably oversized Adam’s apple bobs in his skinny neck as if he’s trying to say something, but only a small, choked noise comes out. He’s still too dazed to give any other acknowledgment.
No contact. No reminders. You did what you had to do, and that’s it. He agrees that this is for the best, right? At least he will once he… processes what happened.
You sigh.
Pausing at the mouth of the alley, you chance a look back. He’s slowly sliding down the stained wall, and coming to rest on the ground with his head between his knees. He looks devastated.
He isn’t processing, is he?
This is your fault, you know. He was trying to avoid people until you found him in his little hiding place. How many times did he offer to take you to the hospital, to tell you that you didn’t have to have sex with him? You could have fucked anyone else tonight, but you chose a sensitive old man.
You broke him. So, go fix him.
You lean back against the concrete wall beside him and lower yourself to the ground by his side. Eyes forward. You wrap your arms around the top of your knees, mimicking his pose. Your eyes flick to the side to observe him.
“Hey. Are you OK?”
He doesn’t look up or acknowledge that he heard you, but a low, wavering voice emerges from his hidden face: “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I lost control. I took advantage of you. Violated you. I should turn myself in to the police…”
Despite how somber he sounds, you snort a laugh. “Is that what you’re so worried about? I asked you to, remember? I literally begged you.”
His hands clamp down over the back of his head, pulling at his messy yellow hair. “No. You were being controlled by a synthesized quirk. You had no way to consent, but I did it anyway.”
You wouldn’t have guessed he was such an anxious guy when he was pounding your insides into oblivion, or from the bruises you were going to be covered in by tomorrow. He’s falling apart. Well, you’re here, and there’s no way you’re going to let him beat himself up over this.
“By that logic, I’m as guilty as you. We were both hit with the same stuff, completely out of our minds. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have been able to resist,” he says firmly, voice rising. “I’m…” he makes a noise from his throat and trails off.
“Even heroes have trouble with this stuff—that’s why it’s, like, the cover of Villain’s Digest, you know? At least you tried, which is more than I can say.”
“I have to be better than that!” he snaps. What will the world do when it comes out that Japan’s number-one hero is a rapist? That even All Might was helpless against a simple aphrodisiac? He sets his jaw. “I was the one who ultimately went through with it. It was my fault. I failed to protect you.”
You rest the back of your head against the wall, letting out a long, pitying sigh. “Do you want me to punish you? Are you just going to keep saying it’s your fault until I agree? Because that’s not going to happen.”
He doesn’t answer.
“You don’t have to better than everyone else in the world, you know. I thought I’d be able to resist, too, but there’s a reason nobody ever does. That stuff rewires your priorities so you don’t want to resist. It… all felt really good in the moment…” You blush and suddenly look anywhere else. Why’d you say that last thing? “The point is… it was stupid to think I was somehow above the hundreds of people who’ve been victims before. So, stop holding yourself to some higher standard. If you want to blame someone, blame me. You… you should blame me.”
His head shoots up from his lap to lock eyes with you, his gaze protective and firm, horrified that you would feel at all culpable. “I don’t blame you.” Just as quickly, he looks away—down, to the side, anywhere else—hand gripping the back of his neck.
“Then why do think it’s your fau—oh my god, you’re married aren’t you?!”
Blood sprays from his mouth as he coughs and sputters denials. “I wasn’t cheating on anyone! I just… shouldn’t have.”
At this point, you’re more interested in the coughing-blood thing. Since the dust wore off, your breathing has gone back to normal, so it seems it wasn’t a side effect after all. Does he have Ebola? Can you catch Ebola from sex?
“Is that… something I should be worried about?”
He gapes in confusion before following your gestures to a blood stain on his shirt. “Ah! No, it isn’t contagious. It’s from an old injury…”
He pulls up his shirt to show you a scar disfiguring the entire left side of his body. It’s not just marring the surface of his skin—it looks like a whole chunk of his chest was removed, with pink arms of surgically reconstructed flesh spiraling over his torso, as if the center of it were a black hole slowly pulling the rest of his body inside.
You forget to not stare.
He shakes his head and chuckles darkly, misinterpreting your stunned silence. “Of all the people you could have come to your senses with… must be disappointing to find yourself with a sickly old man.” He stops laughing. In a quiet but biting tone, he adds, “You must be disgusted.”
Maybe it’s a bad idea, considering how much trauma you’ve already caused him today, but you can’t help it. You lean against him and let your head rest on his shoulder. “I’m not. I’m glad it was someone sweet, and not some gross perv.”
A touch of warmth comes to your cheeks, feeling the pressure of his body against yours again. It’s comforting. You can only hope it’s comforting to him, too.
He doesn’t push you away, at least.
“You shouldn’t have to try to cheer me up,” he sighs after a long pause. “It must be hard to be near me, after what I did.”
“It isn’t, really.”
Strangely, that's true. You had wanted to get as far from him as possible and avoid any reminders of the humiliating act, but oddly, being close to him is nice.
“As far as I’m concerned, I was suffering, and you helped me. Have you read the articles about this stuff? Those symptoms only get worse the longer you don’t… you know.” Why are you blushing like a virgin to the guy whose dick you came on five minutes ago? His cum is still leaking out onto your panties. “I was in agony, so I’m glad we got it over with instead of spending days in the hospital. ‘Met the conditions of the quirk,’ as they say. It was the best possible option.”
“That’s a very practical way of looking at it.”
“What can I say, I’m a pragmatist!” you grin.
He nearly returns your smile out of reflex, but his face falls again. “But I wasn’t thinking about helping you… I was being completely selfish.” I enjoyed it. How could he tell you he enjoyed it?
“I don’t care.” You give a pointed look at his bony frame and flecks of blood clinging to his lips, and raise an eyebrow. “No offense, but I don't think you’d have lasted 48 hours under that kind of stress.”
He grumbles and lets out a sigh, but he doesn’t have any argument. You were probably right. There was no antidote but to wait, usually sedated. That would have been a long time to not be able to do any hero work. This was the best way… But not at your expense.
“I’m sorry, you were trying to leave earlier. You don’t have to stay any longer because you’re worried about me. I’ll be fine.” He smiles like the wounded soldier in a movie telling his brother-in-arms to leave him behind and finish the mission, while the violin soundtrack hits a dramatic crescendo in a minor key.
Should you take the opportunity to escape?
Your plan was to get the drug out of your system with a stranger. Getting to know him any better will throw a wrench in that plan, but the thought of leaving his side makes your throat tighten.
This guy… he’s sweet. He carries so much sorrow inside of him, you want to stay and help him with his burden. A primal instinct urges you to throw a blanket around him and feed him soup. He’s handsome, too. He doesn’t seem to think so, but you understand why your drug-soaked brain latched onto him over anyone else. Excessively tall, with sharp features, and electric eyes. If it had to be anyone, you made the right choice picking him.
You want to get to know him better. You want to learn everything about him.
“It’s OK,” you coo softly, like you were approaching an abused dog. “If you want me to go, I will. If it’s hard for you to be around me. But I’d rather stay with you for awhile.”
He looks up from his own lap at last. Two blue halos study you from within broken, dark-shadowed eyes, finally really seeing you. He looks like he’s about to cry, but does not. He glances down again, but tugs the corners of his mouth into the best effort of a smile he can manage, and this time, it doesn’t suggest he’s going to die in the next scene. “Thank you.”
You sit with him for awhile, talking. Reassuring him, while mentally kicking yourself for hurting the sweetest man on the planet.
“Yagi Toshinori,” he introduces himself.
So much for staying strangers, you think, smiling as you tell him your name in return.
#Toshinori Yagi#toshinori x reader#all might x reader#bnha#all might#small might#hurt/comfort#lemon#my writing
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"A Family in a Midst of Pandemic"
It is the 17th day of March where the Philippine Government declared the country on a state of calamity for six months.
It was early in the morning while Rogelio and his family were watching television then suddenly a news flash just came out. According to the news, there is an infectious disease spreading throughout the country known as the Covid-19 which is caused by a newly discovered coronavirus. In addition, most people who fall sick with this virus will experience mild to moderate symptoms and recover without special treatment.
Everyone was shocked and slight panicking after they heard the news. Rogelio’s father, Papa Jon, is worried about the safety and health of his family and how this crisis may affect their lives.
“So what do we do honey?” Mama Aurora asked.
“We must wait for our mayor’s advisory so we could know what actions we must do”
“But what if something happens now or tomorrow?”
“I won’t let anything harm you and our family honey, trust me.”
Bill switched the show to the news channel and there we heard more information about this issue. According to the news reporter, the government will conduct quarantine to those towns and provinces with a high number of Covid-19 cases. Imus City is one of those town that has many records of Covid-19 cases that is why this area is declared to conduct ECQ or Enhanced Community Quarantine and will undergo many safety health protocols.
All government offices and private businesses except those providing essential services, were required to work from home or closed. Public transportation was suspended, and everyone was required to practice social distancing and wear face masks.
Papa is now struggling and much worried because he won’t have that much income to sustain our family everyday as he wasn’t able to work outside, while Mama is also worried if there are enough food and supplies in the house.
“Kuya Rogelio, what is going on? What is mama and papa worrying about?” Bill asked.
“Let’s just say that we are facing a really bad virus that wants to make as feel sick”
“Oh no, is that the reason why mama and papa feel bad right now?”
“Yeah Bill, but you don’t need to worry about that, we’re going to be superheroes just like superman and batman and we’re going to fight this bad villain”
“Yey, I wanna be a superhero kuya! I wanna help mama and papa”
“I’m sure you’re going to be a best one.”
Bill rush with excitement and heads to mama and papa. He hug them really tight as he says, “Mama, Papa, I am a superhero!”
“Oh sweetie, you really make mama and papa so happy and proud” Mama Aurora said.
It was a relief to make my little brother smile at that time. Another reason to make mama and papa happy despite of what’s happening.
The next day, there is a distribution of FM pass (Food and Medicine pass) on our community. They told us that the holder of this is the only one that can go outside to buy their essential goods and necessities. And also, as announced by the Presidential Spokesperson Harry Roque, there will be also distribution of SAP or Social Amelioration Program by LGU’s in every provinces there is.
Papa Jon was the holder of our family’s FM pass so he will be the one receiving the help from the government. Mama Aurora thinks the beneficiary of this SAP is very helpful for us, especially for those incompetent families to somehow sustain themselves this pandemic.
As the days goes by, many cases are recorded and many families and households are suffering as their communities undergo ECQ and the government funds are gradually being depleted.
“Papa, the news said that there are still cases in our community, it’s still growing papa” Rogelio said.
“Son, I know we really in our tough times so I want you to be strong and optimistic. We will get through this.”
He smiled and hug his father. Papa Jon always enlighten everyone to think better and positive because as this virus spread, depression and anxiety arises.
More days come and then one day, Papa Jon became seriously ill and continued to have headaches and coughs as well. He is weak and any medicine given to him does not work. They immediately called an emergency and rushed him to the hospital. Mama Aurora joined the frontliners and she assigned Rogelio to temporarily guard the house and take care his little brother. He also informed them that they had enough food to eat in the refrigerator and if they have needs or problem, they must not hesitate to call their mother.
Before they left Mama Aurora hugged and kissed her children and then hurriedly said goodbye. Bill burst into tears after his mother left with his father.
“Kuya Rogelio why did they leave?” Bill asked.
*Bill is sobbering from tears*
“They will take care of papa for now Bill”
“Is papa going to be okay kuya?”
“Papa will be alright, he is strong and brave after all, we just need to pray for his immediate recovery”
“I know papa Jesus will take care of him, right kuya?”
“Of course Bill, now I’m going to take you on bed so you can sleep”
“Okay kuya.”
While Bill was asleep, Rogelio went out into their yard to freshen up and meditate. She was terrified after her father fell ill and was taken to the hospital. Many things go through his mind that cause him not to sleep that night. As he thought and worried about his father's condition he suddenly remembered what his father had told him.
“Son, I know we really in our tough times so I want you to be strong and optimistic. We will get through this.”
He wept and regained his composure.
Mama Aurora returned without her husband. She quickly disinfected herself because she came from the hospital. She spoke to her son, Rogelio about their father.
“Don't let your brother know what happened to your father first because he won't understand it yet” Mama Aurora said.
“Your father has symptomatic signs and has a mild illness of Covid-19”
“What?”
“Are you serious, mama?”
Rogelio burst in tears after he heard his Mama Aurora.
“He will now undergo quarantine and let’s pray for his recovery”
“Yes mama.”
Mama Aurora is now unable to visit Papa Jon as this was a strict protocol held by the government. Their family was devastated when they could not be with Papa Jon. Bill was sad and misses his dad.
One night, Rogelio saw his mother outside wandering.
“Are you alright mama?”
“Yes sweetie, mama’s fine, I really just misses your father”
“Your father is the one who encourages the family. Whenever we are weak, he always there to support us and be our companion. Now that he is weak, we weren’t there beside him to support and show our love for him” Mama said
“Yes it’s true” Rogelio replied
“But you know mama, even though papa is far away I know he continues to fight for us. He is recovering so that he can go home immediately. Everything he does is for our family. We just need to support and believe him. We need to believe that he can successfully pass all the challenges and struggles he is facing right now because we are his family. We are his strength and inspiration.”
“You are right son, and just for a second, I see your father in you. I know one day, you’re going to be a good father to your family”
“Thank you mama, I love you”
“I love you too sweetie.”
Several weeks later and today was Papa Jon’s Birthday. Mama received a call from a hospital where his husband was admitted.
They said that Papa Jon is now recovered and can go home as soon as possible.
Everyone is so relieved and very happy. They held a small party for Papa Jon. They cooked her favorite dish and bought a cake. They can't wait for his arrival because at last, they will be able to hug and be with their Papa Jon again.
An hours later, the wait comes to an end. Papa Jon has finally arrived. Rogelio and his brother Bill shouted “Welcome home, Papa!” They hugged their father and their mother burst with tears.
“Oh my children, my wife, I’ve been waiting for this moment to come” Papa Jon said
“I always pray that someday I can see all of you, I’ve miss all of you very much”
“Thank you God for this wonderful gift.”
A family must shows courage and love to its members despite all uncertainty. They actually are all in this together. They all must do it to get through it.
Vermond Lennon A. Dinglasa Ms. Kae Dilla
G11- Rizal A
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Happy New Years my friends! The lovely @always-the-2nd created a wonderful idea of making a list of the top nine moments/realizations/achievements/feelings of 2020, and I’d love to participate in that. I’d like to start off and say that 2020 was a very intense year for all of us, and my household was no exception. From my partner getting COVID to wondering how I’ll ever complete my degree, there’s been a lot of stress on everyone’s mind; I thank any higher power and the universe for still providing energy and will to allow my partner to get up and go to work and I am so thankful that I still have my job too.
This is probably going to be a very lengthy post, but I think it’s important for me to spend some time writing here before I call it a night.
1. This year, I lost 15 pounds and gained 12 pounds back. I know that’s a weird thing to be appreciative of, but I want to start here because this has always been a fitness/health blog, and I want to be as honest as possible. In May, I started logging my food again and taking daily walks, and really making sure I was taking care of myself. I was a lot more carefree back then haha. I didn’t have the weight of teaching and writing on me. I was stress free in most aspects of my life. Hence, slowly but surely, the weight sort of came off. It took about six months to lose 15 pounds, but then, school and life hit, and I gained 12 of those pounds back over the course of one and a half months (yay PCOS!) But, strangely, I don’t see this as failure. To me, failure would be absolutely giving up, and perhaps, I did that during November when my parents were causing me to cry every night and my finals were coming up. But, I recognize that to lose 15 pounds is an achievement and if I did it once, I can certainly do it again, and do my best to keep at it.
2. I started to better understand my PCOS and my family’s history of diabetes, and started to take some more preventative and wholistic measures. I started taking the right vitamins and gradually, I found that some of my symptoms have calmed down. It took a very very long time to figure that out, and I sort of hate taking so many supplements, but I am grateful that I do take them.
3. I submitted my first chapter of my thesis! LIKE WHOA! I’m not exactly writing about very happy things (I’m writing on torture). But turning to my work and writing has always been my coping mechanism and I’m glad I pushed out a viable chapter and that I have something set up for the next one. Also: 3A would be my lovely thesis advisor. Bless her for putting up with my emo ass xD.
4. I bought a ring, proposed to my partner, and he said yes! Granted, literally only my irl best friends, his parents, and you guys know, because my own family would absolutely lose their shit, but I am grateful to have his hand to hold through all of this.
5. My partner’s experience with COVID. It was so terrifying. So so scary. To have him be sick for so long was something we’ve never experienced. I can’t believe we endured that for so long and made it out relatively okay.
6. Spending time alone. As much as I love my job and cohort, I’ve really enjoyed taking some of this time to myself. There are some days I don’t even talk out loud. It’s amazing. It’s relaxing. It’s so important to spend time alone, and I’m glad I’ve come to appreciate that more and more.
7. I’ve gotten relatively good at baking? I don’t always share my food stuff here, but I made a collection of Christmas cookies this year for my partner’s coworkers, and they gobbled them up. I’ve made several pies and tarts from scratch, more breads than ever, and cakes as well, all while experimenting with low sugar recipes. So I’m really glad I got the chance to share some treats with people as well as trying new recipes that are more rigorous and difficult.
8. I’m really glad I got back into gaming, and gave World of Warcraft a good shot because it’s an amazing game with amazing lore and it really takes the edge off of a long day. I can’t wait to work my way up to Shadowlands, and even though I have to stop playing at the end of January, I’m really glad I found another outlet for my emotions and that I can discipline myself with playing only a certain amount of time a day/month.
9. TW: SELFHARM: I don’t talk about this part of my life here, but here’s to making it through another year without hurting myself intentionally. It’s only been two years since I’ve really focused on recovery and my depression, and even though those thoughts come back all the time, I’m really really emotional but happy that it’s been two years without resorting to that. While I can’t change how certain parts of my body look, I can do everything in my power to heal the rest of me, my soul, and my body. And, most importantly, if any of you are struggling with this problem, please reach out to me or let me help you contact a hotline or medical help. You are not alone, and I am not alone.
This is incredibly long and personal, so I won’t be tagging anyone, but this was a very very nice way to remind myself that I did not waste 2020 and neither did any of you. If you need reminding of that, I urge you to follow my footsteps (and always-the-2nd’s!) and create this list. All the little things are worth living for.
#personal#journal#tagged#tw: self harm#tw#trigger warning#trigger warning: self harm#trigger warning: suicide#tw: suicide
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Unspoken and Spoken Mat Rules At Combat Room Miramar #jiujitsufirst
Some of these were borrowed from BJJEE and Gentlemen Grappler, some were modified by me, and others are my own rules or rules that have been passed down and seen as tradition
1. Shake the hands of the black belts when you enter and when you leave the mat. Additionally, after greeting the blackbelt please greet your teammates with the JJ handshake and smile 🙂
2. If a higher belt invites you to roll, you roll. They will invite you politely, if you say no they might not ask you again (except on special situations such as injuries, necessary rest for competition and others).
3. If a black belt is rolling near you, stop and move. If you are a black belt and you have a stable position and the lower belts around you are scrambling or with a submission locked in, don’t be a tyrant, be humble, you move.
4. Be stoic. If you get a submission, don’t celebrate, don’t show any joy. If you are submitted, don’t show frustration, shake hands and restart.
5. If the pain is tolerable don’t stop. Don’t talk to your partner about it, don’t expect them to say they are sorry, most of the times they didn’t even realized what happened. Keep it to yourself.
6. No excuses, a tap is a tap, crank or no crank. Don’t waste time massaging your ego explaining why you tapped, focus on what you should had done instead.
7. During the explanation of a position be attentive, listen carefully. Don’t expect the full attention of your professor if you didn’t give him any.
8. Payback rule, whatever you do, it will be done to you. If you are rough we will be rough on you. If you dedicate yourself to Jiu-Jitsu we will dedicate ourselves to you.
9. Do not cheer for teammates while you watch them roll. If you are on the side watching a roll, please keep your outbursts of joy that your teammate got a sub on your other teammate. It’s not fair and doesn’t help the person who got sub’d at all.
10. No coaching from the sidelines unless you’re a purple belt or above. If you ARE purple and above, please do not coach if the head coach, instructor or Professor is coaching. Too many people shouting instructions at 1 practitioner doesn’t help anyone and it’s the Professors job to coach his/her students. If Professor isn’t there (in a tournament scenario), then the high belt coaches
11. Whitebelts are not allowed to make rules or teach. You’re a whitebelt and with all due respect, you don’t know much at this stage. Unless you’re a D1 All American Wrestler or Judo World Champion who are joining up in BJJ, you are not allowed to teach newcomers or other whitebelts, and you most certainly are not allowed to make rules on the mats.
12. Always make a bow before stepping onto the mats. This is a quick and nice way to check your mind and body onto the tatame, and focus on training, leaving your job and real world problems behind.
13. No barefeet off of the mats ESPECIALLY WHEN GOING TO THE TOILETS. If I need to explain why then you owe me 3000 pushups.
14. In general lower belts are not allowed to ask higher belts to roll. There are always exceptions but this rule must always be adhered to unless an arrangement or conversation has been had by the individual high belt. This also goes for male whitebelts asking other women whitebelts to roll. At this stage the technique isn’t there yet and we want to mitigate unintentional injury as much as possible.
15. NEVER ask when you’re going to be promoted, or when another student is going to be promoted. Instructors have their reasons why/when/if to promote a student and their judgement must be respected at all times, regardless if you understand or disagree with the decision. This is simply how it’s always been.
16. Training at other gyms. One-off training is fine if you want to visit another gym to get a different experience or have friends there. But regular training at other gyms isn’t cool for a variety of reasons. The 1st being your grading process, and the 2nd being the fact that coaches invest a lot of time and effort into your training. Training at HQ or other Combat Rooms is strongly encouraged, but you do not earn credit at CR Miramar from training at other CRs.
17. If late to class – please wait to be waved onto the mats by your Professor. This is so that he/she knows you’re on the mats to help keep track of attendance and safety. Additionally without question 20 pushups is owed as penalty for being late.
18. Forgetting your belt. Whitebelts owe 20 pushups, Bluebelts owe 40 pushups, Purplebelts owe 40 pushups + 40 burpees. Brown and Blackbelts never forget their belts because punishment works.
19. Start and finish class with a bow. As previously mentioned this is more of a handshake rather than any sort of reverence. Its more to pay respect to each other: the instructor to you, and you to the instructor.
20. Line up according to rank. (yes even in the picture) The people who have put in more mat time have not only earned this right, but also have more knowledge than the lower belts. This is attributed to the “Martial” part of “Martial (Military) Arts (Subjective Craft)”
21. Blackbelts are called “Professor or Sensei”. If your gym has purple/brown belts who are official gym instructors named by the head instructor, they are called “Coach”
22. Always have a clean gi or no-gi uniforms. “No one wants to essmell you esstink” – Rey Diogo
23. Please trim your finger and toe nails. We don’t know how to fight wolverines yet
24. Be a good training partner and/or Uke. When practicing technique with a partner, or if Professor calls upon you to demonstrate a technique, please don’t act like this is a live sparring event. Practice is practice, rolling is rolling, demonstration is DEMONSTRATION. If you resist or start defending, Professor will not call on you again to help.
25. Train in a controlled and methodical manner. We are not here to injure our teammates or “break our toys” as I like to say. Beginners don’t have the technique yet to implement this philosophy at first, so upper belts please don’t get frustrated. Help them along the way, as upper belts did for you when you were a beginner. Beginners, no one is going to kill you, so try to remain calm during a roll and learn something.
26. Please stick to the IBJJF ruleset of submissions unless you have verbally agreed with your training partner otherwise.
This means:
No neck cranks, cervical locks or heel hooks
No slamming
No footlocks or kneebars for white belts (straight ankle locks are IBJJF approved for all belts)
No fish hooking, eye gouging or grabbing fingers individually
Avoid chokes along the jaw, chin, teeth or face
ALWAYS respect the tap, and allow partners time to tap
27. Go slow when applying a submission. Most joint locks can cause severe damage, especially the arm and shoulder locks. I know it’s exciting, but please go slow enough to give your partners a second to tap or don’t apply the submission 150%
28. Tap early and a lot. Everyone taps – this is part of the game. Think of it as a game of “gotcha” rather than a game of wining or losing. Most of my taps usually end with a giggle and a “that was awesome well done”. This is how we learn. This is the realtime feedback that illustrates a mistake on our part that needs addressing. Work on your weaknesses.
29. Please invest in a mouthguard. Accidents do happen, and as adult humans our teeth do not grow back. Pay the money on a good one, it’s worth it. This is not mandatory, but strongly advised.
30. MINIMUM attendance for promotion consideration is 3 days a week. I need to see you on the mats at least 3 days a week consistently for 6 months for you to be considered for a stripe or promotion. This does NOT include going to HQ or other gyms or open mat (free rolling days). You need to be on the mats in Miramar to qualify for a promotion. If you can tap and sweep everyone in the gym but are only showing up 1 day a week then you most likely won’t get promoted.
31. Always come to class with a positive and open mindset
32. During technique practice please do NOT talk the entire time. Not only is this disrespectful to your Professor, you are wasting your training partners time as well as your own time. Technique practice time is the single most important part of class and is the only time I expect full focus from all of my students. We only get 3 hours a week to train, and only 1/2 that time to practice technique to please avoid socializing and practice the technique.
33. Do not attend class if you are sick. Please stay home until you are completely well and ready to train. Do not come to class to watch if you still have symptoms
34. Do not train injured. If you are injured please come to class to watch, but as difficult as it may be, please don’t train. Injuries can linger for YEARS if you do not take the time to heal properly. You’ve already dedicated yourself to JJ, it’s not going anywhere. Rest up, heal up and come back stronger!
35. Please remove all jewelery, earrings, bracelets before class
36. If you are on the side watching people roll, it is your job to help prevent collisions happening on the mats. Step inbetween 2 groups of people rolling and do your best to either protect their heads or if they get too close let them know they should move. The higher belts have the mat priority, so lower belts move for them.
37. High belts are responsible for the mats after class and locking up. If I’m not around to mop the mats, high belts are responsible. It’s really EVERYONES job. Make sure the mats are mopped and stacked before leaving the gym. Don’t wait for someone else to do it, please help. Also if there is no one else in the gym, the high belt (bluebelt and up) is responsible to lock up.
38. NO SHOES ON THE MAT EVER. I shouldn’t even have to type this, but sadly I do.
39. *AMENDED* Leave drama off of the mat AND out of the group chat please. If it’s mat drama please deal with it off of the mats in a kind and respectful way. If it’s chat drama please deal with it off the chat in person in a kind and respectful way.
Please keep in mind I work 50-60hr weeks PLUS teach BJJ – 2 jobs. I would appreciate it if people could figure it out among themselves. Keep in mind I’m only qualified to give you Jiu Jitsu and Motion Capture Animation advice 😊
If you find yourself consistently at the center of issues at the gym or the chat, perhaps step away for a bit and think about what the common denominator is and how you can improve/fix things and come back with a different mind set. If things can’t be settled then speak to me about a different solution, but please try the above avenues prior to reaching out to me.
All of that said I’m always here for my students and can/will help however possible, but if it’s things I don’t need to be involved in, please help me and be #mindful in that regard.🙏
40. Guys – don’t hit on the ladies. Our gym has a unique and large female presence and I want to keep it that way. We haven’t had a problem yet that I know of and it’s going to stay that way.
41. Saying “Oss” is an affirmation. This is a very traditional method of either saying “you understand”, or “I give you permission to practice on me and I on you” or just a sign of gratitude and respect. Oss is cool
42. What happens on the mats stays on the mats. I know we all get excited and our ego’s pumped when we sweep or tap out someone. But lets keep that to ourselves – we don’t need to gloat off the mats about sweeping a 1 stripe whitebelt, or how we heelhooked a 12 year old, or how we passed a blackbelts guard (who 99.99% let you anyway). We especially find it tacky and uncool posting these kinds of things on social media so keep it in the gym.
43. Beginners, yes the higher belt let you have it, unless they said you legitimately “got them”, so please hold off on launching the blimp and having a parade until you have confirmation. Its the higher belts job to help guide you along this path, and at some point you will stop being given chances.
***UPDATE 01***
44. Whatever special arrangements I’ve made with an individual apply to that individual ONLY. Sometimes there are things in life that are out of our control, and we cannot manage to abide by some of these rules. If a student has spoken directly to me about some life event or change and we need to come up with a plan specific to them, that does NOT mean it applies to everyone. Every student is responsible to speak to me about their situations.
***UPDATE 02***
45. Visiting guests from another gyms. Of course always be courteous and welcoming, but the general unspoken rule is to smoke them when rolling – usually when matched to your belt level 😃. This is a worldwide unspoken standard within BJJ gyms. The thinking is when they leave our gym and go back to their home gym, they’ll know that we practice good Jiu Jitsu and train hard. This helps keep quality and standards up within the BJJ community and increases the drive at other clubs to improve. It’s kind of a weird quality control, but hey we’re learning how to fight so it isn’t always pretty. There are ALWAYS exceptions to the rules, but this is the general “Old School” way of doing things, that as far as I know is still an unspoken standard.
46. Visiting other schools. Be respectful and courteous – mind your manners at all times. Give them a call or an email before showing up to ask if it’s OK to jump into a class. Greet the Black Belt or head coach 1st. Treat the tatami how you would treat your own school regardless if they do not practice the same etiquette as your home gym. Train hard, be technical, – don’t be a meat head.
“It’s better to know your manners and not need them instead of needing your manners and not knowing them.” – Miyamoto Musashi I think 😛
***UPDATE 03***
47. Gi and no-gi uniform. Being that we’re still in a Covid pandemic, we still must continue practicing safe hygene. This means wearing leggings and rash guards under your gi. This means wearing leggings, shorts and long sleeve rash guards for no-gi. We’ll continue this practice when we eventually are a post-Covid world.
***UPDATE 04***
48. ZERO TOLERANCE of sexual harassment. Ladies if anything of the such happens at our club, however unlikely, please bring it to my attention IMMEDIATELY. I have a 1 strike and you’re out policy and will not condone this kind of behavior from any of my students.
Other thoughts
You’re going to want to quit. Don’t worry we have all felt that throughout this journey. BJJ is hard. Some say the hardest thing they’ve ever done. The learning never ends – the same goes with life and anything else you want to master. And just as in life, running from your problems never solves anything so call timeout, recharge, and come back!
Ask yourself what kind of student do you want to be? One that’s made of rubber? Bouncing back and forth to class, disappearing for months, reappearing for months again and again? One that’s made of wood? After a couple breaks or if things get too hard they quit, never to return? Or one that’s made of steel? A student who regardless of the injuries, hits to the ego, damage to the body, never bends or breaks and always shows up ready to train.
Rubber, Wood or Steel – which are you?
For most all practicioners, the mats are a sacred space. We train because not only do we love the art, but our time on the mats is a cathertic experience. We can forget our daily lives, our jobs, families, friends, pets etc and focus 100% on ourselves, our minds and our bodies while learning something usefull and cool.
Lets not forget what this means to everyone and always give and pay the tatame and class the reverence it deserves. Oss!
*Over time this rule set can and will be amended*
Unspoken and Spoken Mat Rules At Combat Room Miramar #jiujitsufirst was originally published on davepreciado
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My OC was kidnapped from the time she was 8 to 14 years old. Her captors researched torture methods like stress positions, sleep deprivation, waterboarding and tried to replicate those as well as possible. What kind of symptoms would she have right after being rescued and how would those change over time? What kind of treatment would be used?
Well, be aware that they wouldn’t have to do much research. A simple google search could tell anyone how to perform those tortures, I’d estimate a max of 15 minutes research. These things aren’t complicated.
There isn’t currently one set approach for treating torture survivors. My understanding (remember I am not a mental health professional) is that there really isn’t enough research and that individual specialists just… treat things on a case by case basis and try to do the best they can for each patient.
It’s unlikely, even in a good environment, that she would see a specialist quickly.
There’s an out of date statistic that puts the average wait time for torture survivors seeing a specialist at ten years. I don’t think anyone has tried to find out if that figure has improved but… I think it’s unlikely it has.
In a good situation the most likely thing is that she’d have access to an experienced mental health professional who has never seen anything quite like this before.
There is nothing wrong with choosing to make your fictional world better for torture survivors then reality.
Either way your best bet for figuring out treatments is taking a look through ScriptShrink’s archives.
As for symptoms- They’re not something that we can predict.
We have a general list of possibilities. But we don’t know why any individual develops a particular set of symptoms. With a few exceptions torture techniques do not effect the symptom set a survivor develops.
People who survive the same thing can have very different symptom sets, and people who go through very different tortures can have almost identical symptoms.
Most importantly torturers can not control or predict a survivor’s symptoms.
��Because we don’t know why particular symptoms develop I think the choice of symptoms is a writing choice.
Take a look at the list and think about what each of the symptoms would mean. What could they add to your story? Do any of them give you a chance to show the readers something about your character? Do any of them create interesting obstacles in the plot?
Are there symptoms you feel excited about writing? Are there symptoms that you feel you couldn’t write well?
Those are the sort of questions I use to decide on a symptom set.
Memory problems are extremely common in survivors and are rarely portrayed realistically n fiction. I have a post on them here.
PTSD is also more likely in this sort of scenario, with multiple traumatic events over a prolonged period. However it’s still not guaranteed.
And now I should probably get on to the issue of the character’s age-
I don’t know much about childhood development. All the information I’ve given you is based on adult survivors. Things are likely to be different for a child this young.
I suspect that learning difficulties and low intelligence are incredibly likely in this scenario. Both because of the character’s age and the tortures you’ve chosen.
Waterboarding can cause brain damage really really quickly. Factoring in the really long period the character is held and a developing brain I think brain damage is likely.
I do not know the effects of sleep deprivation on a child. However given the huge and lasting health implications in adults I think that the most likely outcome is a teenager with low intelligence, low learning ability, low creativity, a depressed immune system and lasting physical weakness.
She might be more prone to cancer. She’d definitely be more prone to infectious disease. It possible that she’d look less… I’m not sure to put this but I guess I think it’s likely she’d look physically ill for much of her life and hence less ‘attractive’.
I know sleep plays a role in hormone regulation. That could mean that she has delayed puberty or that puberty does not progress in a ‘normal’ or consistent way for her. To be clear: I am guessing here because (thankfully) no one has done the experiment.
I’m really dubious about the idea of using sleep deprivation for such a long period on a character this young. Just because I’m honestly not sure if you can find out the effects of this deprivation on a child.
Based on what starvation and solitary confinement does to children I’d say that if you want an adult character with ‘normal’ capacities, both physical and mental, then deprivation-style tortures probably aren’t a great idea. However if you’re happy writing a character who struggles with physical weakness and illness and has a lower IQ this is a good choice.
Overall given the tortures you’ve chosen and the length of time the character is held I think death is likely. Survival is possible, and I don’t think there’d be anything wrong with deciding the she lives.
But waterboarding is especially likely to cause death or severe disabling injury quickly. When done repeatedly and regularly over a period of six years I think that adds up to a high chance of a corpse.
I think you can carry on with the scenario as is; but it depends on the kind of character and story you want to write. If you’re happy with showing the likely long term effects then by all means carry on.
Choosing to make the character so young and have the torture continue for such a long time means that lasting physical effects are more likely. That might be reduced if the torture didn’t happen regularly (ie if these incidents are occurring once every two months) but I don’t think that lines up with the scenario you’re presenting.
If don’t want to deal with things like brain damage through the rest of the story- Then I think the best option is to reduce the amount of time the character is held. Honestly a year is still a really long time.
You can do this and still keep the character out of the story for the full six years. I’d approach that by having the character put in a specialist hospital (and a specialist school) for the remaining five years. Which isn’t necessarily what would happen in the real world but it gives you a chance to tell readers the character has recovered somewhat and could create and interesting sub-plot about reintegrating with mainstream society.
You could also age up the character. The outcome is likely to be better at 15 then 8, even though it is still likely to be worse for a 15 year old child then an adult.
You could change the torture techniques, but there isn’t such thing as a ‘safe’ torture and children are generally at more risk whatever deprivation you choose.
I also get the impression that both the character’s age and the torture techniques are things you’re attached to. Which makes me think that reducing the time frame is the best option here.
Rounding this off: remember that you only need one traumatic incident in order to realistically write severe trauma symptoms.
Yes not everyone will show severe symptoms after one incident. There is individual variation.
But I am sure you will find real world people with PTSD because they were kidnapped at a young age and held for no more then a few hours (unharmed) before they were released.
You don’t need such an extended time frame, or torture at all to give a ‘reason’ for this character to be severely effected. So consider what you want from this scenario. What does it do within the story?
And think about other ways you could do that.
I hope that helps. :)
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#writing advice#tw torture#tw child abuse#tw child abduction#child abuse#effect of child abuse on development#sleep deprivation#waterboarding#brain damage#writing victims#writing recovery#writing survivors
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Anger
I feel very bad for angry people, for I see them creating their own hells to live in, and they usually don't even realize it. I've seen few things in the world that deserve the kind of anger that we see on a regular basis; on the radio this morning, one of the disc jockeys was telling about taking her mother to a cancer treatment center. She parked the car close to the entrance to help her mother into the center, and as soon as she was out of the car, the person in the car behind her started laying on the horn. This person actually came up and hit the back of her car with his car-- not hard enough to do any damage, but hard enough to let them know he was angry.
I feel very sad for this man. He can't be happy with life if such a trivial thing can cause such rage in him. Inner peace? Forget it. He's probably so busy looking for excuses to be angry that he never notices the beauty of the world, the wonderful parts of life, the nice people who surround him every day. I've known people like him, and there's no convincing them that life is wonderful, because it can't be since people are such jerks. But people aren't jerks. They do jerk-like things on a regular basis--we all do--but that doesn't make us jerks.
The angry person reacts in anger and causes others to be angry, and a cycle begins. My hope is that I'm able to be a person who ends such a cycle, a person who reacts to anger with love and understanding, because the angry people need that more than anything else.
Reacting in anger is merely perpetuating these people's belief that their anger is justified, but reacting in love may get them to question whether or not their anger is justified, effective, and/or helpful to them.
We can't psychoanalyze everyone we meet. We can't say this person is angry because she's been neglected, or this one is angry because he's trying to compensate for feelings of inadequacy. We need to separate the anger from the person, the creation of God who stands before us and who deserves our love.
When I'm tempted to react angrily myself, I try to remember to ask myself this question: Am I contributing to the anger in the world, or am I contributing to the peace and love in the world? I need to contribute to the love--we all do. Love is the only power that can cause a permanent change.
Of course, we have to look at the other side of anger--the side that gets us to act when we see an injustice done to another person, the side that causes the feeling of righteous indignation that gets us moving and feeling for others. There is injustice in the world, and as Arthur Ponsoby points out below, if our lack of anger is a sign of indifference, then it's a big problem for us and for those people with whom we share the world.
But we still have to control this anger, as Aristotle points out below. Unchecked and misdirected anger is destructive, and if we're to be angry at all, we want that anger to be constructive, not destructive. Controlling our anger takes learning and practice, and we have to keep learning from our mistakes and the mistakes of others to learn how to use our anger effectively, and to know when to recognize anger that's justified, and anger that's a reflection, a symptom, of something else that's going wrong in our lives.
Anger destroys the angry person and all those around him or her. The
angry father can cause fear and terror among his children. The angry
wife and mother can manipulate with a force and subtlety that can be
felt for years. Open anger roars through human relations with a
destructive force--a firestorm. The hidden anger that burns and attacks
and manipulates can last for years. It destroys the underbrush; it twists
and poisons the ground growth. And so with us. The ferocious exterior
flame is uncontrollable except over a long period of work and time.
We must isolate our anger and allow it to burn itself out.
Edward J. Lavin
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Eugene Carman
Rhodes' slave! Selling shoes and gingham,
Flour and bacon, overalls, clothing, all day long
For fourteen hours a day for three hundred and thirteen days
for more than twenty years.
Saying "Yes'm" and "Yes, sir" and "Thank you"
A thousand times a day, and all for fifty dollars a month.
Living in this stinking room in the rattle-trap "Commercial."
And compelled to go to Sunday School, and to listen
To the Rev. Abner Peet one hundred and four times a year
For more than an hour at a time,
Because Thomas Rhodes ran the church
As well as the store and the bank.
So while I was tying my neck-tie that morning
I suddenly saw myself in the glass:
My hair all gray, my face like a sodden pie.
So I cursed and cursed: You damned old thing!
You cowardly dog! You rotten pauper!
You Rhodes' slave! Till Roger Baughman
Thought I was having a fight with someone,
And looked through the transom just in time
To see me fall on the floor in a heap
From a broken vein in my head.
Edgar Lee Masters
from Spoon River Anthology
How could I feel so miserable in the midst of such splendor? The question flashed
through me all at once, not waiting for words to express it. The answer came
more slowly: No one makes you angry. Anger, like love, is something you choose.
Stunned, I sat down in the middle of the field I'd been walking through.
I knew I needed to look within myself, let go of my anger and have a quiet talk with God.
Susan L. Taylor
No person can think clearly when his or her fists are clenched.
George Jean Nathan
Anger is a symptom, a way of cloaking and expressing feelings too awful
to experience directly--hurt, bitterness, grief and, most of all, fear.
Joan Rivers
Anger is not only inevitable, it is necessary. Its absence
means indifference, the most disastrous of all human failings.
Arthur Ponsoby
As long as anger lives, it continues to be the fruitful parent of
many unhappy children.
St. John Climacus
They are fools who cannot be angry;
but they are wise people who will not.
Proverb
anger 2
Anger in its time and place,
May assume a kind of grace.
It must have some reason in it,
And not last beyond a minute.
If to further lengths it go,
It does into malice grow.
'Tis the difference we can see
'Twixt the serpent and the bee.
If the latter you provoke,
It inflicts a hasty stroke,
Put you to some little pain,
But it never stings again.
Close in tufted bush or brake
Lurks the poison-swelled snake
Nursing up his cherished wrath;
In the purlieus* of his path,
In the cold, or in the warm,
Mean him good, or mean him harm,
Wheresoever fate may bring you
The vile snake will always sting you.
Charles and Mary Lamb
*place where one goes often
Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness
forces you to grow beyond what you were.
Cherie Carter-Scott
Ruby stepped toward him. "Edward," she said softly. It was
the first time she had called him by name. "Learn this from me.
Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that
hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But
hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves.
"Forgive, Edward. Forgive. Do you remember the lightness
you felt when you first arrived in heaven?"
Eddie did. Where is my pain?
"That's because no one is born with anger. And when we die,
the soul is freed of it. But now, here, in order to move on, you must
understand why you felt what you did, and why you no longer need to feel it."
She touched his hand.
"You need to forgive your father."
Mitch Albom
The Five People You Meet in Heaven
It is wise to direct your anger towards problems--not people;
to focus your energies on answers--not excuses.
William Arthur Ward
If you get angry easily, it may be because the seed of anger in
you has been watered frequently over many years, and unfortunately
you have allowed it or even encouraged it to be watered.
Thich Nhat Hanh
- From Living Life Fully
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here it is: the post Literally no one was waiting for. i'd put it under a read more thing but i'm on mobile and can't be assed to get out of bed so fuck it. we air our dirty laundry on main for the world to see like men.
so waaay back in february or something, i started seeing a psychologist again. i'd been seeing a psychologist for a while last year, but she had a private practice and got too expensive over time, so i had to stop. now, however, i finally got a referral to the public mental health offices in my county. which is nice, because norway has this neat thing that means when you go to the doctor, public health care facilities, refill prescriptions for medications you have to take daily, etc, the money you spend on those things gets recorded and after you've spent like $260, you get a free card that gets logged into your medical records and you don't have to pay for any of those things for the rest of the year.
anyway, i mentioned a couple of years back that i finally got put on antidepressants for the first time. they helped a lot, but then i just... stopped taking them. there wasn't a reason, really. i just forgot to take them one week when i was stuck in bed with a headcold, and then it was hard to get back in the habit again. i tried to get back on them off and on for a long time, but i'd inevitably just forget again. until, like, i wanna say november/early december last year? i started taking them again. there were still some slip-ups every now and then, but for the most part i took them almost every day. any gaps were no longer than two, maybe three days at the most, and those gaps were maybe once a month or so on average. averages aren't really useful in this context, but i hope you get the idea.
anyway, i finally convinced my doctor that, no, seriously, i really need to see a psychologist, i've always needed to see psychologists my whole life, seeing psychologists help me, i can't afford a private psychologist so i need a public one, and after a lot of begging and insisting on my end and a lot of hemming and hawing on her end she finally agreed to refer me. except she forgot to actually send the email she'd been typing in front of me, and then she quit, so there was a lot of confusion and time spent sorting things out until i got my first appointment.
i didn't like my psychologist at first. she was way older than i'm usually comfortable with (that's a personal me-problem that i know is irrational, and i'm not gonna go into the why but yes i'm working on it), and very blunt in an exasperated sort of way. she made me angry sometimes. she made me feel like i wasn't trying hard enough. but she helped me get shit done, so i guess she was doing something right.
in june she called in a psychiatrist to help adjust my medications, so i started taking zoloft in addition to the other medication (remeron, aka mirtazapine) that i was already taking. the mirtazapine was helping with my depression, but my anxiety was still pretty bad. the zoloft helped.
by my second appointment with my psychologist, she asked me whether i could have adhd, or if there was a history of it in my family. now, i have a lot of family with adhd (how closely related we are by blood is a bit of a mystery to me, my family tree is more like an overgrown hedge and who knows who fits where), and my grandma used to joke that the women in our family "all have a little bit of that adhd brain in us", but as far as i knew, nobody in my immediate, direct bloodline had such a diagnosis. i had my suspicions about myself, of course — i knew that not every focus or attention related problem necessarily has a specific attention disorder source, but i also knew that what i was experiencing couldn't be "normal," in the sense that if i walked into a room with 100 people in it, 86 of those people wouldn't necessarily look at a list of my symptoms and go "oh same hat." i've had add on my about me for a while now. maybe that was silly of me; i hadn't been diagnosed with it, and what i knew about the specifics of it were picked up piecemeal off the internet. you know, that super-reliable place where everyone is honest and factual all the time?
anyway, this began the process of investigating the merits of such a potential diagnosis. research was begun. questionnaires were taken. my mom was invited to one of my sessions, in which she revealed that, oh yeah, bee tee dubs, she's always suspected i have adhd. did she mention that she has also apparently always suspected ocd and that i'm autistic? no? whoops, well, she has now.
end of june i was referred to the neuropsychologist devision of the public health care place. over the course of a little over 6 weeks i went in for 2 interviews, in which i answered several questionnaires, talked about my life and childhood and traumas and what my mom had told me about her pregnancy and labor, every possible symptom i'd ever had, and was sent home with even *more* questionnaries. in addition to these, i went in for two rounds of "testing," in which i was tested on my memory, pattern recognition, reaction time, impulse control, and probably a dozen other things. i was nervous. it was exhausting. i wanted answers but was terrified of what those answers would be.
end of august, my mom came with me for the big reveal. and guess what? she was right. primary diagnosis: adhd, special emphasis on the attention deficit part. bonus diagnosis: asperger syndrome. surprise! i'm autistic, i guess.
it was hard to come to terms with. which sounds really silly, since i wouldn't have even been taking those tests if i didn't think the outcome was a possibility. and it's not like the diagnoses were surprising either. the adhd part was easier to accept, mostly because i already felt pretty confident i had it. but the asperger diagnosis was harder. having to unlearn all those ingrained ableist stereotypes and social stigmas is hard, especially when you had some you didn't even realize were there. it's very surreal to think a thought and be like "no, wait, i do that. that joke is about me." it's a very surreal and slightly upsetting experience to realize how biased you are as general rule, but especially about a facet of your own identity you weren't aware of. and the feeling of everything and nothing changing all at once. i've always been like this. a doctor telling me i have two cognitive/developmental disabilities isn't an event that magically gave me these disabilities. my brain has always worked like this. the only difference between me now and me a year ago is that i have an official, medical reason for Why now.
that's another thing: coming to terms with the idea of being "developmentally disabled." it's not like i'm suddenly a different person — i have to constantly remind myself that my brain has always been like this. but having a piece of paper confirming that i am legally entitled to special allowances in the workplace or at school because i have not one, but two "disabilities" is absolutely buckwild to me.
it makes me reevaluate my life and my past. how many situations did i make worse because i did not have the capacity or knowledge about how my own brain works to self-reflect? was i high-functioning in the past because life was simpler? was it because i subconsciously had a better handle on what works for me and what doesn't, and somewhere along the way i lost that? or was it simply because i didn't have the option to be anything other than high-functioning? it's confusing.
i also lost my spot at college. i can still reapply next year if i want, but at least now i know why i was failing out lmao
anyway, by my birthday in september we started the process of adjusting my medication again. upping my zoloft, getting me off remeron, and as of 6 weeks ago or so, beginning ritalin.
it was a rocky start, but i'm up to 60mg now. two pills in the morning, one in the afternoon. i have a goddamn alarm for 8am every day, even weekends. my sleeping is still wonky, but at least im genuinely tired by 8pm every night. the psychiatrist still wants me to try melatonin for a month (even though i told her multiple times it has never worked for me, and my problem has never been "i'm not sleepy enough"), so i'm on a whopping 2mg of melatonin for the next 30 days. norwegians are fucking WEIRD about melatonin, don't even get me started.
a slightly unexpected side-effect (on my end) of these medication changes: remeron made me gain weight. like, a lot of weight. and i was constantly hungry all the time, overeating to ridiculous amounts. why did nobody ever tell me that weight gain and metabolism changes are a side-effect of anti-depressants? i was more active this summer than i'd been in, like, three years and i just got fatter. which was incomvenient because i kept outgrowing my clothes. anyway, a side effect of ritalin is a loss of appetite and general weight loss. the combination of regularly taking ritalin and dropping remeron entirely? i eat a fraction of what i used to before, i've almost entirely stopped snacking, and i've lost 15 lbs in less than a month. i've already noticed my face is slightly slimmer now. maybe by christmas i'll be able to fit into my old tshirts again.
anyway, my psychologist quit, so i have a new one now. i've only seen her a few times, but she's veeeery different from my old one. i can't decide if i like her or not.
in the middle of all this, i've been going to the social security office as well to kind of get some of my own money, possibly help me get a job at some point in the future. my caseworker is super nice. if she's over 30 i'd be shocked. i relate to her really well, she's very helpful and understanding, and she's very patient with me and my bullshit. she's the kind of person where if we met at a party or something we could probably hang out.
anyway, she's helped me get out of the house sometimes. she introduced me to this youth club volunteer group thing called the fountain house, designed for young people who've dealt with or are currently dealing with mental illnesses and such. i hung out there yesterday and the day before and did some basic office work. it's nice. and then there's a work placement place that can either give you a job on site in one of their four departments, or help you get a job at an actual business elsewhere with more support and leniency than you might get if they just hired you off the street. i'd start in their second hand store. they clean and restore all donations they recieve, and they're super fucking cheap. i treated myself to my literal lifelong dream of owning a vintage typewriter (!!!!!) yesterday, because it's almost christmas and goddammit, i've been doing so much shit the past couple of months i deserve it. do i have space for it? not really. do i have a plan on what to use it for? no. was it heavy and miserable trekking through the snow and rain yesterday back and forth? was it worth the backache in the morning? fuck yeah it was.
a fucking lot of things are happening all at once. diagnoses, medications, lifestyle changes, work placement, social clubs, dealing with bureaucracies on all sides just so i can feel like a person again, not to mention juggling hobbies like writing and drawing and maintaining my irl friendships. i'm getting as many balls rolling as i can while i have the opportunity and mental/emotional capacity to, but i'm worried i'll burn out again. i'm stabilizing and slowly building my life back up, but jesus christ it would suck if this stupid house of cards collapsed again. but i'm tentatively optimistic. who knows, maybe it's not to late to course-correct my mistakes.
so long story short, that's why i've barely been active on tumblr for months. that's why i haven't been writing, drawing, or reading fic. it's coming along, but it's slow.
i guess the most important thing is that it's coming along at all.
#the tmi nobody asked for and will probably never read — you're welcome#Lady of Purple's slice of life#mental illness#medication#adhd#autism#personal
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PCOS: My story.
I began birth control at the age of fourteen. It started out with the Depo shot, which is a shot that goes into your backside and is supposed to last for up to three months. After my three months were expired, I didn’t want to get another one. I know you’re thinking that was dumb of me, but what you don’t know is within that three months I had gained weight, became irritable, and was more depressed than I was before birth control. Seven short months later I had fallen pregnant, I bet you seen that coming. Immediately after pregnancy, I got on another form of birth control, the Paraguard, a metal T that is placed inside of my vagina. I did not like that one so I got it removed and got the Nexplanon, a rod placed in my arm, that lasted for three years. As you can probably tell, I have been through it with birth controls, and I’ve done a lot of research to find if perhaps that’s the reason I suffer from PCOS.
When I was fifteen I’d gotten pregnant with my long term boyfriend, who I later married. We both wanted our children to be close in age, so when our daughter was one we began trying for another baby. I got my Nexplanon removed and was good to go. However, that was not my reality. From periods that were too short, to too heavy, periods that lasted two weeks to not at all. I didn’t think I was even ovulating. I took countless ovulation tests and not one came back positive ever. I didn’t want to see a doctor because every time I went they said I was too young to be trying for a second baby. Which is understandable, but we wanted our babies close in age. Pregnancy test after pregnancy test, we never seen that second line.
We’d been trying for over a year, and still no luck. Our daughter just turned two and I began feeling hopeless. At this point, our children would be about three years apart. I remember thinking if it doesn’t happen soon I don’t know what I would do. It ended up causing arguments between us as a couple and driving us away from each other. We were left without answers as to what was wrong. Was it him? Is he the reason I can’t get pregnant? Is it me? We just didn’t understand and it left us both frustrated, exhausted from arguing, and resentful. Which led to a divorce.
At this point, not only did I get married at 16, but I got divorced at 18. After spending hundreds of dollars on dollar pregnancy tests, I started to feel relieved but also more stressed. I began to worry how my daughter will ever have a sibling close to her age now? I had come to realization that I need to find a different man who is great for me and great with kids, so we can give her the brother or sister that all kids deserve and I’ve always wanted. Someone who is patient just in case I was actually the problem. Until then, I was back on birth control.
Finally after about a year, I had found the man of my dreams. A man who is literally everything I was looking for, great with kids, stable income, humorous, smart, honest, loyal. He was even the most handsome and attractive man I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Sounded too good to be true to me too. Lucky for me, it wasn’t.
Seven months into our relationship, we had the talk and were ready for a baby. My daughter is almost four years old at the point and my children are going to be at least five years apart. Which was fine because by now, I had given up on the close in age method. I’ve matured and became more patient. I learned to love myself more and respected the decision that something could very well be wrong with me and I am the reason I don’t have another child.
I got my birth control removed July 10, 2018. We had been trying every single day for ten months. That means I had probably taken between ten to fifteen pregnancy tests at this point. Most women take a test if they show signs or symptoms. Not me, I’ve become obsessed with wanting to see that second line. It happened so easily the first time, I wasn’t even trying. Why doesn’t it happen again? I now suspected that I’m the reason for not having a baby because even in a new relationship I’m still left struggling.
April 29, 2019 I finally seen that second line. It was one of the happiest moments in my life. It was very faint so I knew it was still very early, but I was beyond excited. I bought an expensive test plus five dollar ones just to keep seeing that second line appear. I even told my daughter who was now almost five, and she was more than excited. Everything was finally coming together and life was perfect. Just two weeks later it was Mother’s Day and we started telling our families, me about pissing myself in excitement. It was a great time in my life. Until the day after Mother’s Day. Yes, a day.
To be honest, immediately after I had that positive test I felt something was wrong. It felt different than the first time, which led me to believe that I was having a boy. But it also felt off. Something was wrong and I knew it. Because of me feeling this way, it caused unnecessary stress. I had a pain in my lower stomach just a few days after finding out and began to worry so I went to ER to get looked at. They asked how far along I was but I still didn’t know. They did a pregnancy test and it came back positive, but when they did an ultrasound they didn’t find anything. When I say anything, I don’t mean they didn’t find anything wrong, I mean they didn’t find a baby. They said not to worry, I was just barely pregnant and gave me some blood work to check my HcG levels. Not only did they not find a baby, but they also found hundreds of cysts on my ovaries. This was the day I found out I suffer from PCOS and that is why it has been so difficult to get pregnant. I really do not ovulate most of the time. It was a relief to find this information out but a worry at the same time. I told my OBGYN of this experience and their findings and she did not act like it was a cause for concern, probably to try to ease my worry. Which for a couple days, it did. We began telling family and getting excited and planning our future.
The day after Mother’s Day, I had gone to get bloodwork done to check my levels again as the doctor requested. The doctor called me and said that my numbers have dropped and they would like me to come in. That day was the first of the worst two days of my life. A doctor told me with PCOS you’re more likely to a miscarriage and he thinks that is what is happening here. In his twenty plus years experience, these pregnancies that drop in HcG levels and do not show up on ultrasounds, result in miscarriage. He also said it’s quite possible the baby is stuck in one of my Fallopian tubes and if that’s the case, I could die if it bursts. However, for me to avoid the pains of going through miscarriage, or death if that’s the case, I can have a surgery done to remove the baby and it would be quick and easy with less pain and I’d be guaranteed a life to try again. I was left feeling scared and unsure of what to do. He let me take the day to think about it and discuss it with my partner.
The very next day I was in the hospital getting my baby removed, in tears feeling lost and hopeless. This is the worst emotional pain I’ve ever felt in my life, I was losing the one thing I’ve wanted for the past three to four years. After the surgery the doctor told me they found the baby and it was not in the Fallopian tubes. That message will forever make me wonder, was the surgery necessary then? If I would have waited, would the baby have been fine? Those are some of the questions I will never get the answer to and that doesn’t sit right with me.
As much as it pained me to move on so quickly, a few weeks later we began trying again. Except this time, I know I have PCOS. I know what articles to read and maybe I can find something that will help. I began reading other people’s stories which finally gave me hope again. These people also have been struggling and it may have taken years but they finally have their bundles of joy. There was a happy ending at the bottom of each article and that’s what kept me going. I’ve gone back to the doctor to ask if there’s something we can do to help me get pregnant and they suggested birth control may help but I honestly don’t think it would work. It never helped most of the ladies in the articles, why waste my time on it?
May 2019 I began trying for pregnancy number three. It is now December 2019 and I still have no luck. I read that exercise and a PCOS diet may help but I haven’t tried it yet. I’ve spent probably a thousand dollars in pregnancy tests in my lifetime and I just want to get that happy ending that everyone else has. If you can recommend something please let me know, I’d appreciate it so much. ❤️
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Not only is she one of the leading figures in All Elite Wrestling's developing women's division just four years after first stepping foot in the ring, but she's also done it while completing dental school and starting a full-time practice.
Bleacher Report's Jonathan Snowden had the chance to sit down with Dr. Baker to discuss life, the impact of the Wednesday Night Wars on her relationship and the glorious art of professional wrestling.
He also reviewed the best match and promo of the week, took a look at the latest offering from DK Books, tracked the latest battle in the war between AEW and NXT and consolidated a week's worth of wrestling events to catch you up on anything you might have missed.
Join us every week for Off the Top Rope and Bleacher Report's exclusive access to the biggest stars in the sport.
Dr. Britt Baker, DMD, on AEW's Women's Division and Her Crazy Double Life
The trip to Pittsburgh was about two-and-a-half hours each way—and Britt Baker drove it once a week in the summer of 2014, her conscience heavy with guilt. In the fall, she would start dental school at the University of Pittsburgh. Her life seemed settled.
But professional wrestling had a hold on her heart and wouldn't let go. So she got into the car anyway, driving to class at the International Wrestling Cartel to begin her tutelage in the esoteric art of wrestling, a secret hidden from family and friends in her gossipy home town.
"I was so terrified that my parents were going to hate this that I didn't tell them for five months," she tells Bleacher Report. "I was correct. They were less than thrilled. It's not that they were especially discouraging. It's just what every parent would say. 'Britt, you have a guaranteed successful career ahead of you. You've been accepted into one of the best dental schools in the world. You could get hurt in the wrestling ring and your dental career could be done. Do you understand what you're doing?'"
Stubborn as only a highly capable person in their early 20s can be, Baker was convinced she could learn both crafts simultaneously. She took on what might be a truly unique double major: learning to fix teeth by day and pretending to knock them out by night.
"Wrestling kept me sane during dental school," Baker says. "That was the hardest time of my life, and I don't know how I would have made it without the distractions of wrestling to keep me afloat.
"I would be sitting in the back of my dental implants class, secretly watching Raw from the night before while trying to pay attention in class. And when I was on the road doing wrestling shows, the guys that I would train with would help me. Andrew Palace and Darren Genaro would be flashing me notecards to help me study for an exam.
"I'm setting up the ring and we take a break to study. There aren't many friends like that in the world, people who would use their breaktime to help you study instead of going to get a cheeseburger up the road or just taking a minute to themselves. I was so fortunate early on with the people I surrounded myself with in wrestling."
When she's introduced now as "Dr. Britt Baker, DMD," there is a sense of pride. Unlike most wrestling gimmicks built around a trade, Baker comes by hers honestly. And while most wrestling dentists are bad guys, she hopes fans might make an exception in her case.
"It's my favorite part of every match, the moment I hear that," she says. "It's an affirmation. Yes, that is who I am. I am Dr. Britt Baker, DMD, and I'm a professional wrestler. I don't mean to brag or boast, but I love the recognition for it.
"It was hard. I went to school for eight years to be a dentist. Sorry if the person in the fifth row doesn't like it and thinks I should be a bag guy because people hate the dentist. People might not like the dentist, but they do like people who chase their dreams."
Baker was brave enough to chase two. And now, living in Orlando, Florida, with her boyfriend, NXT champion Adam Cole, she maintains what would be a back-breaking schedule for most, somehow maintaining her career in the ring and a burgeoning dental practice without seemingly missing a beat.
"Both of my worlds are very understanding of the other," she says. "I have an agreement with the dental office I work for that we'll be closed on Wednesdays. Because I'll be in whatever city AEW Dynamite is in. And AEW is OK with me flying in super-late Tuesday night after work or even early Wednesday morning. They are also really good at getting me on the first flight back to Orlando Thursday morning. I get right off the plane and go to work. I am still able to work four days a week as a dentist."
Right now, she is careful to keep her two worlds apart. While she'll talk to patients about wrestling if they bring it up, she's aware that many people might find her dual roles off putting. Sometimes, however, what happens in the wrestling ring isn't easily contained in the ring. Take, for example, a black eye suffered recently at the hands of her burgeoning rival, Bea Priestley.
"The black eye was very interesting," Baker says. "I was getting pretty creative just hiding it. I had my mask on most of the day and we use dental loupes, which are magnifying and have a little light on them. I made sure I had those on all day. Because, it's a whole thing. 'Oh my gosh, what happened to your eye?' and 'What do you mean you're a professional wrestler? I didn't know this!' So, I tried to make it an easier day."
While a black eye can be manageable, more serious injuries pose potential problems in both fields. Earlier this year, her parents' worst fears came true when Baker suffered a major head injury at an AEW pay-per-view in Jacksonville, Florida.
"For five days, I could not see out of the outer corner of my eye," she says. "I had no peripheral vision. It was just black. That terrified me. Doc Sampson, our head doctor for AEW, would call me every day. He's an excellent physician. And, every day, I was so frustrated.
"I was starting to wonder if I was going to be OK, but he was very reassuring, explaining that this is a concussion symptom and I would eventually get my vision back. He told me, 'You got hit really bad, really hard, but it's going to be OK.' But people can tell you that all they want—until it actually comes back, it's scary.
"You can't see and you need your eyes for everything. Especially being a dentist, working in someone's mouth and even drilling on their teeth. I was terrified. Obviously, I couldn't work in the dental office when I couldn't see. That's a lawsuit waiting to happen and not safe. So, it was tough.
"But that's the nature of the game in professional wrestling. People get hurt. It's not ideal, but it happens. Accidents happen. It was a reality check reminding me, 'Hey, be careful.' But, at the same time, I love it. And, when you love what you do, you can accept the risk."
On Wednesday, Baker fought Riho for the AEW Women's Championship, an enormous accomplishment for a woman just four years into her professional career with a mere three weeks on television.
"It's very stressful and exciting," Baker says. "It's baptism by fire. You're wrestling in front of 100 people one week and suddenly you're in front of 10,000. I have so much to learn, but I'm in good hands. I feel like I have the best coaches, the best production crew, the EVPs, Tony, everyone who has a hand in this is one of the best people to be working with in wrestling.
"(AEW owner) Tony Khan is super-hands on. He is everywhere and will be texting creative ideas all the time. He's absolutely fantastic. I can't say enough good things about Tony Khan. He makes every person on the roster feel appreciated. He is happy you are part of his company."
There is a lot of experience to lean on backstage at an AEW event, including agents Dean Malenko, Jerry Lynn and Dustin Rhodes. Perhaps the most integral figures for women looking to live up to bold promises about equality and opportunity are Kenny Omega and Michael Nakazawa, dual-lingual wrestlers who help the contingent of Japanese competitors like Riho communicate with their American counterparts.
"Kenny Omega has a huge role in the women's division," Baker says. "He agents a lot of the matches and he's brought his passion for the Japanese joshi wrestling to our world and it's amazing. I don't have a ton of experience with joshi wrestling, but I love it.
"I'm learning from Kenny by watching how he puts matches together. How lucky can I be? That was one of the selling points for AEW to me when Brandi and Cody (Rhodes) told me he'd have a major role with the women's division. I was a huge fan.
"I was the girl staying up all night to watch Wrestle Kingdom even though I had class the next day. Now I work with Kenny Omega, one of the best wrestlers in the world and a creative genius. Some of his ideas just amaze me. There seems to be no end to his creative insanity."
Baker's rise in the sport comes as Cole reaches new heights of his own in NXT. The two are equally wrestling-obsessed and watch the rival company's competing shows together the day after the events. But Baker admits the dueling Wednesday night broadcasts aren't ideal.
"We are texting and calling each other for encouragement right up until the moment we go out the curtain," she says. "It can be a little heartbreaking when it's the biggest night of his career or the biggest night of my career and we can't be there. Because we're each other's biggest fans and, as a fan, you want to be there and feel the energy. You want to experience it. So, it's a little discouraging.
"But we sit at home and watch each other's matches. We actually watch each other's whole show. We support each other's company. My boyfriend is basically best friends with The Young Bucks, so he's very supportive of All Elite Wrestling."
Baker, like most in AEW, keeps a watchful eye on fan reactions. She's noticed some grumbling among hardcore fans, upset that the promotion hasn't featured women as frequently as they have men. But she urges patience.
"You have to take it with a grain of salt when people, for lack of a better term, bitch and moan about what is and isn't on the show," she says. "Fans are always going to find a reason to grumble. They want one thing week one, you give it to them week two, and then they don't want that anymore. Some fans are very hard to please.
"AEW, we're still so new, so I encourage people to sit back, relax and kind of breathe with us. We're going to give everybody what they want. Sure, there's only one women's match on the show. But maybe there is only one tag team match, too. Enjoy it, let us establish what our brand is, then form your opinion.
"Right now, it's fresh and new. Try to enjoy the ride."
Britt Baker returns home next week on AEW Dynamite as Pittsburgh temporarily transforms into Brittsburgh.
Match of the Week: Kenny Omega vs. Joey Janela (AEW Dark)
In AEW storylines, Kenny Omega is struggling to find his way. After losing to Chris Jericho in a grueling bout at Double or Nothing in May, he was unceremoniously destroyed by a debuting Jon Moxley.
It was enough to send Omega into a tailspin, breaking the former IWGP champion mentally and spiritually.
In the ring, though, he is finding his way. Against an opponent with plenty to prove in Joey Janela, Omega raised his game to heights only he can reach. The result was one of the most remarkable matches of the entire year.
It was an unsanctioned bout that didn't count on their AEW records, but the two men wrestled it like it was a pay-per-view main event and not a match on AEW Dark, a YouTube show available for free to anyone.
The bout was a modern twist on ECW, a match filled with high spots, plunder and plenty of both guts and glory. Imagine the very best technical wrestler in the world wrestling Tommy Dreamer in a match where basically anything goes. That was this match in a nutshell—a must-see for anyone who loves wrestling.
Runner Up: Kota Ibushi vs. Evil (New Japan: King of Pro-Wrestling)
Hard Times Promo of the Week: Darby Allin
The first time I saw Darby Allin wrestle, I knew he was a star. Admittedly, I was late to the party. He'd already spent years wowing crowds at super-indies like Evolve, waiting for the opportunity to take his unique energy to a bigger stage.
My first visit to Planet Darby was on a stage so small there wasn't even room for a ring. He and his wife, the wrestler Priscilla Kelly, were taking on another couple in an intergender bar fight. There were maybe 100 people there, and none of them could take their eyes off of Allin and Kelly.
When they closed the match with Priscilla spitting directly into Darby's open mouth, I knew I had to meet him.
His personal magnetism was evident, his weird energy was of the time. He wasn't cosplaying a skateboard kid with a barely disguised death wish. He was that kid on stage and off. Sans makeup and in a sharp black suit the next day, he was every bit as interesting as I'd anticipated.
His energy was even more powerful in conversation, his passion for performing so strong that he couldn't even hope to hide it in a post-modern haze of ennui or irony. Why, he asked, did wrestlers limit their influences to previous wrestling matches and angles? He intended to look all around him to inform his art with the present and not the past.
Although not immediately identifiable, it's this perspective that makes him feel different. Fans are getting a taste of it right now on AEW television.
AEW provided the platform, and Darby used it to make himself the first breakout performer in the promotion's short history. He may not have beaten Chris Jericho for the championship but check back here in six months and we'll count coup then.
Because Darby Allin is a star.
Wednesday Night Wars: Week 3 Showdown Between AEW and NXT
It's Week 3 in the Wednesday Night Wars, as AEW went head-to-head with NXT on national television once more.
The wrestling world has turned its attention to this midweek battle for supremacy and both brands have brought their best.
The result has been a spectacular win for fans. Among the promotions, though, there can be only one winner.
Let's run down each show in the two major categories that combine to create great wrestling television.
Wrestling
As Arn Anderson once said, "it's on the marque." Everything else is built around the action in the ring, and both brands specialize in modern, exciting action.
As is becoming the norm, AEW promised an incredible card and somehow delivered excellence even beyond our expectations.
The best technical match was the barnburner between Kenny Omega/Adam Page and Pac/Moxley. One day after announcing he was still the top performer in the world at AEW Dark, birthday boy Omega teamed with Page to again steal the show.
The Elite beat Pac and Moxley in a slobberknocker that saw all four at the top of their games, a combination of high-flying action and enough storytelling elements to build future matches between the quartet.
But the match we'll all remember was the main event, a star-making performance from Darby Allin, the 22-year-old prodigy who literally wrestled much of the event with his hands behind his back. He gave champion Chris Jericho all that he could handle, even without the use of his hands, forcing The Inner Circle's Jake Hager to interfere and preserve Jericho's reign.
Allin is a star.
NXT has a different approach. Most of the matches don't feel like a big deal, bordering on being simple, competitive squash bouts with obvious winners. They are well-executed, with the winners looking like stars, but it's hard to compare positively with AEW using this approach.
Two bouts stood out: the rubber match between Keith Lee and Dominic Dijakovic and the main event battle of attrition featuring Damian Priest's upset win over Pete Dunne. Lee and Dijakovic have good chemistry, but their clash was marred by a sports-entertainment finish setting up a three-way dance with Roderick Strong next week.
The main event had some mild shenanigans at the end, but it was an excellent back-and-forth contest worth seeking out.
Advantage: AEW
Presentation and Storytelling
This was the best night yet for AEW's commentary team of Jim Ross, Tony Schiavone and Excalibur. The three men are starting to figure out where they fit in and when it's time to hit their spots.
Ross seemed engaged throughout and Schiavone, in particular, always seems to chime in just when he's needed.
There was an excellent vignette that told much of the story I shared in my Cody Rhodes feature piece earlier in the month and set up his title challenge against Chris Jericho nicely. AEW shines here with these videos. Their shoulder programming generally is top notch.
The co-main event set up a match next week between Pac and Jon Moxley and generally made everyone involved look amazing. The main event further cemented Allin as a star of the future while establishing Jericho and The Inner Circle as bad actors willing to cheat to win. Solid, basic storytelling.
NXT did a much better job of building its characters this week and further defining who the key players are and what they're about. Johnny Gargano felt like a big deal for the first time and Shayna Baszler cut one of the best promos I've seen from her, telling a returning Tegan Nox, "Let's be honest, you're running out of limbs to rehab."
When Mauro Ranallo is on, he's one of the best announcers in the sport. An enthusiastic Mauro is a lot of fun to listen to. A Mauro who is trying to namedrop the Brazilian stink bug makes me think about reaching for the mute button. He walks a continuous fine line between excellence and utter disaster.
This show did an excellent job building for next week and teased future bouts such as Io Shirai and Rhea Ripley that have fans salivating. NXT's best effort yet as an overall show.
Advantage: Even
Overall
As good as NXT was, AEW is going to be hard to beat when they are loaded for bear the way they were Wednesday night. No one on NXT can match Jericho, Omega or Cody Rhodes as overall performers, and the undercard wrestlers on TNT are given the time and freedom to make something special of their segments.
Given the opportunity to shine, great talent is always going to deliver something worth watching. So far, AEW has done this every single week.
Winner: AEW
Three-Count: A Look Ahead
AEW Dynamite (October 23, TNT)
Pac vs. Jon Moxley: These two couldn't get along during their tag team match Wednesday against Kenny Omega and Adam Page, and they will settle their differences next week in Pittsburgh. Wins and losses matter in AEW, making this match of particular importance to Pac, who is seemingly close to earning a title shot. Prediction: Moxley emerges victorious after outside interference by a member of the Elite.
Private Party vs. Lucha Bros: Wondering if the Lucha Bros were babyface or heels? Wonder no more. They announced their presence on the villainous side of the ledger with a brutal attack on SCU. They will likely do something equally dastardly to the up-and-coming tag team that upset The Young Bucks in the first round. Prediction: Private Party comes to an end and the Lucha Bros advance to the AEW Tag Team Tournament finals.
SCU vs. Dark Order: We don't know a lot about Dark Order, the one notable failure on the part of AEW's creative team. They've had such a golden touch that the one bust really stands out. Prediction: SCU gets the upset and earns the opportunity at revenge against the Lucha Bros.
#britt baker#kenny omega#joey janela#darby allin#all elite wrestling#aew#posted on: 10.17.19#article#bleacher report
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Review of Focus Treatment Centers of Chattanooga, TN
My Google review was too long, so here is the whole post: (Yes, this was important enough to me to start a whole tumblr page just to raise awareness. It took me over a whole day to figure out how too make this work. Also, it helps bring me peace for such a horrible/traumatic experience. Also, please excuse any typos or weird wording. Tumblr did not copy and paste accurately for some reason. Not even close. So I literally had to word for word compare this post to the word document where it was saved and fix all the weird stuff it did)
(This is part 1 of 3 of my review) If I could give this place 0 stars I would. I have been to multiple detox and mental health facilities and this was the ABSOLUTE worst experience I've ever had. This place is TOXIC and should be shut down. My 7 th point is the most significant, FYI, if you decide to skip the rest.
Ok, so maybe if you have "stereotypical" body image issues with anorexia, bulimia, or binge eating disorders and do not know what's causing them, maybe Focus can be helpful. BUT what a lot of these sick people have yet to realize apparently, is that there are MANY forms of eating disorder that don't include those three disorders. (Specific example: My friend's 4-year old son has what doctors have called an eating disorder, because he has a hard time eating certain textures, etc. He's not over eating and he's certainly not undereating because he’s concerned about his physical appearance. He is in therapy for it. ALL eating disorders deserve help.)
I digress.
1.) I went to the facility to seek treatment for alcoholism and eating disorders. It took me three tries to get into this facility because they kept rejecting me on the basis that my BAC was too high. Ya think? I know I needed help and I was more than coherent so it's not like I was passed out drunk or something. By my 3rd attempt I could not even sign the documents because I was shaking/withdrawing so much as a result of getting my BAC low enough so quickly for acceptance.
2.) They consistently left me in the dark. They did not give me or my husband any information about the program, aside from financials (money hungry much?). They did not give me a tour of the facility. They did not explain how anything worked or where anything was. I didn’t even know where I could have gotten more water to drink. Yes, I could have asked, but I was shaking and so sick because I was also detoxing that I thought I might have been seizures, because they gave me basically nothing that helped me with my withdrawals. I was suffering so much and they blamed it on me for not eating. Well, no shit. I was having severe alcohol withdrawals and loss of appetite is a common symptom. Not to mention the food that they offered wasn’t appetizing at all. I already have difficulty eating, hence the reason I was in the eating disorder department in the first place. Not because I'm afraid of getting fat. I'm happy with my weight and trying to gain more weight actually. Their solution was to give me Gatorade.
I have a history of alcoholism and have never experienced any withdrawals like this in my life. (and I drank much more heavily for much longer the other time I went to detox) They gave me medication that seemingly had no effect on me. I explained the medicine did not really do much, but all they did was up the dosage which still didn’t do much. In comparison, the last facility I went to years ago gave me a medication that actually worked for me. I never felt sick the whole time I was there after that first dose. (I also wasn’t overly medicated and they lowered my dosage each day, not increased it) I have also weaned/detoxed myself off the alcohol with no drugs and still never experienced any withdrawals like what happened at Focus. (Part 1/3)
(This is part 2 of 3 of my review) 3.) They absolutely refused to speak to my husband on the phone. Maybe for some that’s the best approach, but my husband is my rock, my foundation, my everything and we have never spent a day in 12 years where we have not at least spoken on the phone and 99% (98.8% I literally did the math) of those days we are together physically. I told them I wouldn’t be able to make it if they didn’t let me speak to him. I told many people who adamantly refused, which is ridiculous, because I was going through the most difficult sickness of my life and I just wanted to hear his voice. Just for a minute, so I could find the strength to keep going. I made it very clear how important this was to me. My husband had even spoken with the facility and explained that he was afraid I’d suffer separation anxiety and wouldn’t be able to make it without his support and asked if an exception could be made to best provide for my mental health. They wouldn’t allow it and couldn’t accept that there was not "one right way" for everyone.
This facility needs to be more accommodating to the exact needs of specific individuals. DO NOT LET THEM MAKE YOU BELIEVE THAT THEY KNOW YOU BETTER THAN YOU KNOW YOURSELF. And as I mentioned before about being left in the dark, there was an EDA (eating disorder anonymous) meeting THAT evening which my husband could have attended. If I could have just waited a few more hours I could have seen him. But NO ONE told me about this. They told him, but of course he had no way of telling me directly and asked them to tell me to give me hope, but of course they neglected to do that.
4.) They could never give me clear answers on when I would get to see the doctor, therapist, or nutritionist. It was always just "well, you'll get to see them soon". It was so much uncertainty which is so difficult when I was in such a fragile state. As a side note, they told my husband I’d see the therapist the same day I checked in, but I only got to see her the next day AFTER I declared I needed to leave because the place was just too toxic for me.
5.) They wouldn’t let me brush my teeth. The nurse said it might make me vomit. Um ... I guess I don’t know about the average person, but having a clean mouth is going to make ME considerably less nauseated, so I had to sneak away to go brush my teeth. Something so simple and also important because I have a history of teeth issues. 6.) They go through your suitcase when you get there, which is understandable, but they took things out without telling me they took anything out at all. One of the things they took out was something called a Plexis Wheel. It's similar to a foam roller, just google it if you don’t know what it is. It helps pop, massage, and straighten out your back. First of all, why the fuck was I not allowed to have that? It's not dangerous in any way and I NEED it. I have chronic back pain from fractures I received a few years ago. Like 24/7 pain. They also took my yoga mat, because you know, that's dangerous. That's what I would have used to use the plexis wheel on, so I was in a panic when I realized I could not find them in my suitcase. I have so much pain and anything natural I can do to help with my pain I do it. (I don’t take any drugs or anything for it) A nurse also took away my fitbit off my wrist, because it "counts steps", which she assumed meant I was going to use it to lose weight, I guess. I was almost in tears, because I NEED know the time and date to stay in touch with reality, having this information keeps me sane. I don’t even pay attention to the number of steps most of the time. That was the worst nurse I had. She was such a pushy bitch. I wish I remembered her name. (Part 2/3)
(This is part 3 of 3 my review) This brings me to my last and most significant point. At one point during my stay I was asked: "Have you done any of the following things recently?":
· Had suicidal thoughts
· Had homicidal thoughts
· Binging
· Purging
· Restricting
· Exercising
So of course, I said "only exercising". She asked if I had exercised since I'd been there. Obviously not - I was lying in bed shaking and dying. I could barely walk much less do any kind of exercise. I exercise, because 1.) my stretches, yoga, and exercise are the most significant things I can do to fight my chronic back pain. When I tried to explain this, they basically rolled their eyes and asked me sarcastically how working out/exercising could possibly help my back pain. I explained that it strengthens muscles, improves posture, etc. It was literally suggested to me by my orthopedic doctor as the only thing that can be done to help my condition. In addition, building muscle helps gain weight and increases your appetite, (which I'd been telling them the whole time that I’ve trying to do, not lose weight, but again they didn’t believe me, because of stereotypes. I even have to wear my wedding ring on a necklace, because it won’t even fit my finger anymore because I’ve successfully gained weight.) The nurse gave me a look like "ok, yeah, whatever". They just could not comprehend how working out could help my pain and the fact that I was actively trying to gain weight. 2.) Exercise is good for you emotionally, as everyone knows it raises endorphins. And 3.) I HAVE OSTEOPOROSIS. Google anything about it and it will tell you that the most important thing you can do to strengthen bones is to do heavy weightlifting. Who normally has osteoporosis at 28? PEOPLE WITH EATING DISORDERS. A facility that deals with people with eating disorders should know the benefits of this. I can’t explain my eating disorders (besides the fact that my mouth gets really dry and my teeth hurt and if I don’t like the food enough, then I don’t salivate enough, which become painful and therefore causes stomach problems from not chewing it properly) and I would have liked to have gotten help in figuring out ways to combat it, but obviously they are not educated enough for my complex situation.
Needless to say, I had to check out after about 24 hours. This was one of the worst experiences of my life. And the fact that they left me sick even though I told them the medicine wasn’t working (and certainly not the Gatorade). However, as sick as they said I’d be if I left after just one day of detox, and as many times as they told me that once my meds wore off I was going to be really sick again and that I might have seizures and/or die - That same evening I was home and sober with my husband (who got me food I could actually eat) and my kitties and plexis wheel and I felt great. I just think the stress the nurses were causing me was just exasperating my withdrawal symptoms and lowering my appetite. Again, that place was just extremely toxic for me and I'm SO glad I left when I did and will certainly never be back. I suggest you take all of this into consideration before admitting yourself because this is a neglectful facility that honestly could have been sued for malpractice, because I could have died. (I didn’t eat anything the whole time I was there, which was very dangerous in my given situation)
Whoever from the facility/company is reading this, one size does not fit all. I was SO optimistic that your program would have been able to help me, and I'm very disappointed and discouraged that it ended so poorly. It's facilities like yours that give mental health care to bad reputation, which in turn discourages people from getting the help they really need. (3/3)
I have been to hell and back just trying to post this review using 3 different emails address, 3 different browsers, 5 different devices, multiple IP addresses (with no success) and hours and hours of my time. I have never put this much effort into posting something online. I say all of this to say, this has not been a quick endeavor, but again this experience was so significant to me that it was THAT important to me to make others aware and also for my own mental peace. Thanks for reading.
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We don’t believe what’s on TV - Chapter 38
Chapter 37 - Chapter 39
We don’t believe what’s on TV masterlist
Resume: I had an ordinary life, or that’s what I wanted to believe. I lost myself in the TV series that I listened to forget the normal boring life. What I didn’t know, however, was that my life would change completely overnight.
Finding myself in 2013 at Beacon Hills County.
This is a Stiles x Reader
Previously: Something brought me to school. I still don’t know why, but sometimes, my body brings me to a place without me noticing. But this time, I’m glad. Stiles had his panic attack, and I was there to stop it. And I know there will be consequences of my gesture later on. But for now... I can’t focus on this. I need to save everyone.
In this chapter: Hidden, scary and painful truths.
Word count: 3110
A/N: One million years later. My computer dying multiple times. Here I am, on my brother’s computer (I’m struggling a lot, it took me 20 minutes just to connect to tumblr). Thanks to @cuillere who again took the time to proofread, and sorry again for the time. Enjoy!
"So," Stiles began, clearing his throat. We were still in the locker room, sitting against the metal wall. Stiles had an arm around my shoulders and I had snuggled up against his chest, inhaling his soothing scent. My heart was still pounding fast, like every time I was near him, but it was a quiet and steady drumming. "What shall we do now?"
I didn’t answer immediately, staring at an invisible spot in front of me, but it didn’t take long for reality to invade the little cocoon of comfort that we had created, breaking the moment. The Darach was still running. And we had to stop her. Stiles knowing about the monster and not asking question was a relief. I appreciated more than anything. Yes, it could wait, but his curiosity would have been normal and legitimate. Ask how I knew about the future, but not about my past. I especially appreciated he didn’t ask me questions about my health. Because, huddled against him, in his arms, bathed in this bubble filled with love, I wouldn’t have been able to lie.
"For once, I have no idea ..." I answered, mumbling softly words difficult to pronounce. I had no plan. Yet. "I just want everything to finish as soon as possible ..."
"Me too," Stiles added, caressing my arm mechanically. "Me too."
Something had tilted in my head when I talked about finishing it as soon as possible and I sat up briskly, looking around, understanding something I had missed. Or rather, an event that Stiles missed. He had to go to the guidance counselor's office to ask her questions about black druids, since Deaton's sister, her, was a druid. This was where we had to go. If I reconstructed the events, everything would finish as soon as possible. And I could finally feel good, snuggling into the arms of the boy I loved, live with my adopted brother and the nurse who had so kindly greeted me, go shopping with Allison and Lydia, get my diploma...
It wasn’t too late. It was never too late. Knowing the future had its advantages, after all.
"Y/n?” Stiles asked, worried. I couldn’t just give up, I had every reason to, yes, but I could change things and have a normal life in the end. That's what I wanted most. I could always fix my other problems later. For now, I had to fix the timeline. If Lydia and Stiles knew about the nemeton, I didn’t even have to say it myself. They were going to understand, and then...
The rest was going to be the same again. The train would get back on track. And with me on board, we would arrive earlier at the next station.
"We have to find Lydia. And go to Morell's office," I murmured, turning my head toward Stiles. The latter raised an eyebrow, not understanding what I meant. "Now," I put myself on my feet and reached out to Stiles to help him do the same. The latter stared at my hand, then plunged his hesitating amber eyes into mine, anxiety quietly taking place in him. "Trust me," I said to him this time, my voice sure. Adding a smile to my face, I tried to reassure him. It was normal to be scared. Anything could go wrong. But I knew that, as long as we were together, it would be okay.
Stiles took my hand and stood up.
As I thought, Lydia was already in Morell's office when we arrived. The banshee turned to us, her eyes wide, surprised to see us both. But quickly, her gaze softened while she looked at me. A silent thank you could be read in her green eyes. She probably didn’t know about the incident at the hospital. She was only relieved to be alive, probably thinking she owned it to me. Truth was, I had done nothing.
"Where have you been?” She asked, breaking my thoughts. Without letting us the chance to answer, she went on. “It doesn’t matter. You took your time!” She raised her arms in the air. The student who was waiting for her appointment in the episode which name I forgot was also in the room and mumbled something that looked like Get in line, I was there before.
"Sorry," I replied to Lydia, ignoring the girl. "We had a little problem. Anyway," I glanced at Stiles, who sent me a knowing glance. "Morell isn’t there?” I simulated my surprise. I knew she wasn’t.
"No, and she's late," the student answered at Lydia's place and rolled her eyes. "She's never late."
"If that's not strange," Stiles mumbled, scanning the room quickly with his eyes, "if she's not late ..." The hyperactive teenager went to the other side of the desk and opened a drawer to dig in without any hesitation. "She's missing."
"Stiles, what are you doing?” Lydia was indignant at seeing him do so without hesitation, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was Stiles to act like this, exactly as in the episode, as expected.
"I'm looking for clues," he muttered like it was the most obvious answer in the universe.
"But these are the students' files! Confidential!" The redhead groused until Stiles pulled out her file and handed it to her, still not looking at her.
"Here’s yours.”
Lydia didn’t answer, grabbed the bundle of paper and started flipping through it. As for me, I was new and didn’t have a file in the counselor's office, so I decided to wait patiently for Stiles to make the link between Lydia's drawings, her banshee predictions and the nemeton. But the surprise I got when Stiles handed me a file. Mine. With my name. Confused, I took the thin packet of paper and stared at my name, my heart pounding in my ears. I didn’t say anything as I slowly opened the file as if it was going to explode in my face at any moment.
The first page was blank, except for one sentence. A single sentence written in the middle of the sheet so small I had to squint to be able to read what was written. And when finally I understood the meaning of the sentence, my breathing cut off directly.
Stiles must have heard me because he stopped looking through the files to stare up at me. "Y/n? Everything’s fine?” he asked. I didn’t know why suddenly I felt so tense, but the fear that he read this sentence made me jump and I closed my file immediately.
"Yeah… Yeah!” I answered, clearing my throat not subtly. Wanting to change the subject and put his attention elsewhere, I pointed the file of Lydia. "Nice drawing."
It had the effect of changing the direction of the conversation, but I knew it wouldn’t be for long. Stiles was smart, very smart. He had noticed my reaction, knew very well what it meant. And according to the look he gave me before getting closer to Lydia to better look at the drawing, I knew questions would only be delayed.
Taking advantage of the fact that Stiles was now looking into Lydia's bag to look at the many copies of the same identical drawing, I opened the file again. The sentence leaped out at me despite its illegibility, but I ignored the ball in my throat to look at what the other pages contained.
Drawings were there, exactly as the drawing of the tree that was in Lydia's file. The drawings of the monster I made. All were there, photocopies whose origin I didn’t know. How had Morell done to photocopy my drawings? When? How? And above all, why have a file on me?
After the drawings came a last page. On this page were written results that, that at first glance, looked a lot like a result page of a lab test. However, the results were not from an ordinary experience.
Subject: Y/n
Age: Unknown, around 17
Reaction to mistletoe: Strong. Tremors, difficulty to breath. Emergency hospitalization. Spell free of poisoning the same evening.
Reaction to mountain ash: Unknown.
Reaction to the wolfsbane: None. Can inhale and touch the substance without reaction.
Abilities: Strength stronger than a human. Maybe even stronger than a werewolf.
Followed known injuries: -Fractured wrist. Healing time: a week.
-Sprained ankle. Healing time: a few days.
-Claw marks. Healing time: a few days. Scars still present.
-Fracture of the spine. Healing time: a few minutes.
I had to reread the last inscription several times. I didn’t remember having fractured my spine, and to be honest, it's something that you usually remember. It didn’t make sense. I read the sentence again, trying to remember where I could have hurt my back. And the only moment that came to my memory was my fight with Jennifer, when she threw me against the wall with a single blow powerfully administered against my heart. I had heard a sound of broken bones and felt a lot of pain. The only explanation was that...
When the monster possessed me, my wound had healed?
Confused and scared, I kept reading.
Autoimmune disease: Spreads quickly. Appears to matter when the subject makes assumptions about the future. It seems that these are accurate. The symptoms of the still unknown disease are: intense chest pain, palpitation, fever, hematemesis, unconsciousness, nightmares/night terrors.
How did she know all that? Melissa couldn’t be the source, she was bound by professional secrecy. My complete medical record was spread out on this page, minus the reactions to the products used against werewolves who usually had nothing to do in a medical record. Morell knew a lot. Too much. I didn’t know if it scared me or made me want to know more.
Maybe she would know what I had if I spoke to her? That could she help me get rid of? Or at least put a name on the horrible face that was haunting my nights? To help me go home? My real home?
However, the sentence came back to me. The one on the first page. This single sentence broke my hopes and desire to trust her.
"Y/n," a voice reached my consciousness and I looked up at its source while closing the file again. Stiles was talking to me, Lydia's drawing in his hands. He showed it to me and pointed it, his eyes animated by a resolution. "The nemeton.” He flipped the drawing upside down, creating the image of a tree trunk and its roots. "That's where she takes them."
At least the positive thing was that he understood. The timeline was saved for the moment. So many things happened, I couldn’t remember what was coming next. All I knew was that I had to protect the file I held in my hands. Mine. Protect it from Morell, but also from Scott and Stiles. I didn’t know how they would react, and I didn’t want to take the risk.
"What are we doing now?” I asked, pretending to put the file back on the desk. But the truth was that I wasn’t going to leave it there, within everyone's reach. As soon as Stiles and Lydia had their backs turned, I was going to take it.
Stiles and Lydia came out of Morell's office and it was when I was about to hide the sheets of the file under my shirt that I noticed Heather's friend was no longer there. The sentence had upset me too much I had missed most of the conversation.
"That's where they have to be, that's for sure. Under the nemeton. And you have to- " Stiles began to explain his thoughts when a distant silhouette appeared and called the name Stilinski. He grumbled and turned to Lydia and I. “Lydia, look, go to Derek, okay? He and Peter, they've been there before, so they'll know where it is. Tell them it's the root cellar, all right? They'll know.”
As an answer, the banshee nodded and disappeared. That left me alone with Stiles. I raised my head and met his gaze. For a second, and only a second, I saw all the sadness and anguish that lived in him. But soon, this shadow on his soul evaporated.
"And me?” I asked, seeing Scott's father getting closer to us.
Stiles’s eyes softened and he took my hand in his, both very cold. However, when our skins touched, a comfortable heat settled. "You, I won’t let you leave me.”
A wave of warmth and affection washed over me as he spoke his words. Words that I dreamed of hearing coming out of his mouth. My hand squeezed his as an answer. I didn’t intend to leave him either.
“Did you know your dad's car is in the school parking lot and has been since last night?” Scott's father, Rafael, stopped in front of us. He detailed Stiles, then stared at our bound hands. His gaze followed my arm and finally, he noticed me. His brows furrowed as if he was trying to figured where he had already seen me. And now that I thought about it ... If he was Scott's dad, that made him ... my adoptive father in some way?
"No. What does that mean?" Stiles answered, keeping his chin up. But it was only a facade, because as soon as the FBI agent mentioned the presence of his father's car, his hand had begun to shake.
“It means he's officially missing.”
A few seconds later, we were sitting in an empty classroom to talk. At first, Rafael had insisted that only Stiles follow him. But the look he had given him had managed to convince the agent without any word pronounced it wouldn’t happen. And our hands were still one in the other, a gesture that gave courage to each other.
“Stiles, why am I getting the feeling you know something that could help us find your dad?” Rafael finally asked after many unanswered questions, or with answers so strange that even I didn’t really understand what Stiles meant. But deep down, I knew it was on purpose. That it was in his personality, and I loved him even more for that.
“If I did, why would I not tell you?” Stiles mumbled between his teeth, as if it was obvious. And indeed, it was logical, and it would sound like an answer without him having to lie.
“If it meant helping your dad, why wouldn't you?”
“So you're asking me to tell you what I wouldn't not tell you?”
“First, I have no idea what you just said." The agent retorted, fighting a headache provoked by trying to argue with Stiles. A little laugh escaped from my lips back up in an accomplice and amused smile. Stiles glanced at me and smiled as he saw me laugh, as if he had done his job, making me happy. “Second, how about you just help me help you? And what’s so funny?”
“Well, I don't know how to help you help me tell you something that would help you if I don't know it.”
Just like that. Said in the most nonchalant way of the universe. This time, the laughter that escaped me was loud and audible, so much I got a very impatient and frustrated look from the agent, which immediately silenced me. A small pff came out of my lips anyway after the adult's attention turned to Stiles.
“Are you doing this on purpose?" Rafael didn’t find it amusing, absolutely not. His face was tense and I was even beginning to see sweat build up on his forehead. I had to be honest. Even though the agent was saving Stiles in season 4, I didn’t really like him. And Scott neither. One more reason. Although I wasn’t supposed to know he was Scott's father since no one had told me.
“I don't know anything, okay? Can we just go?” Stiles had already lost the small spark of laughter and sarcasm. It was funny at first, but in the long run, reality came back to break the layer of sarcasm with pain and fear. The sheriff was gone and in constant danger of death. To reassure him as best I could, I tightened my hold on Stiles’s hand. I was there for him.
“Yeah, we had a hard day. Really hard day," I added in order to convince him that we would have liked to be anywhere except here talking to him.
“Where are your other friends?” He kept asking questions and I was beginning to feel rage boiling my veins. He hurt Stiles. And I didn’t tolerate that.
“You mean Scott?”
“I mean Scott. I mean Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent, these twins Ethan and Aiden. I've been told your whole little clique didn't show up at school today.”
“I don't have a clique.”
“And we’re not friends with the twins,” I almost spat. It was the pure truth. And since the incident at the hospital where I had seriously hurt them, I really doubted they wanted any kind of friendly relationship with me.
“Stiles, come on. There's been a pretty disturbing amount of violent activity in this county in the last few –“
“We get it,” I cut him before he make Stiles feel worse. Or get me angry. I couldn’t have anger get in my way, and Rafael had a gift for making me angry. "Lots of murders. Blood. Disappearance. But we know nothing, so leave it.”
“Fine," He finally answered, passing his gaze from me to Stiles, then put his detective eyes on me, still searching where he might have already seen me. Or why he had never seen me before. “But I don't want you going home alone. You neither, Y/n.” My eyes widened when he pronounced my name. He knew me, then. He knew who I was. “I don’t know why Melissa decided to… take you home. And why the sheriff allowed it. But let me tell you, it’s illegal. I’ll have a chat about it with them if…” He swallowed back his words, but too late. “When we find them. Now, have you someone you can stay with tonight?”
“They’re with me.”
Stiles and I turned back to the front door to see Deaton stand up straight, a small, complicit smile at the corner of his mouth. And even though the agent's words had scared me, even though I was afraid of being taken out of the McCall family and placed god-knows-where, I couldn’t care about it now. If Deaton was here, that meant one thing. And one thing only. Unfortunately, I had failed somehow. Failed to prevent this event.
The sacrifice to the nemeton.
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In the next chapter: The sacrifice.
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