#Like. Again the level of masking on this account is fairly low and I feel like most people would be able to logic out who I am

[theglizzardwizard]

i think you need to stop making posts and admit yourself to the hospital

I think you still don't know what schizophrenia is

[harrissam19]

Dishonored Blog Project: The Flooded District

When Samuel and Corvo return from the tower, the Loyalists wait in the Hound Pits Pub to raise a glass. As Samuel gets off the boat he seems to be slightly bothered about something and that he would like to spend some time alone before joining in with the celebrations. Corvo goes ahead and enters the bar where thew loyalists begin to clap and cheer. Emily too is happy knowing that she will be able to be empress. Treavor Pendleton hands Corvo a drink and they toast to the future. But something's not right. The alcohol makes Corvo dreary and uneasy so he retires to his bedroom.

Dishonored. Again. Corvo must escape the Flooded District and return to the Hound Pits, where Emily was last. First it was necessary to deal with Daud as he had the key to exit the District. After retrieving his gear, Corvo headed to Daud's Lair in an old abandoned building with a large statue of the late Empress Jessamine Kaldwin. Daud's assassin's, known as the Whalers due to their whale oil workers' masks, are everywhere.

When Corvo finally reaches Daud he can be overheard talking about how much he hates and wants to murder the Lord Regent for making him assassinate the Empress. It is evident he deeply regrets taking the job to kill her, 'No one should have to kill an Empress'. Before deciding what to do with Daud I found his latest log entry:

Taking into account Daud's speech about the Empress and this log entry I decided it was best to spare Daud to live out his days in regret. This notion that Daud is troubled by has bloody past is built upon even further. To take the key I used the Stop Time ability, however due to the fact that Daud also bears the mark of the outsider, he was able to see me when I stopped time. Still determined not to kill Daud I chose to run with the key to escape. As Corvo did so he would taunt him into a fight. Initially this might seem to be out of character for Daud considering his regrets, however I think this taunting and wanting to fight is because Daud's guilt makes him feel as though he should just die.

After escaping the Flooded District it was time to get past the quarantine wall and into the sewers to get back to Hound Pits. Along the way I encountered a lone survivor, Alfa. She was seemed fairly uninterested in what I had to say and was staying in a very dingy apartment. On her bed was this note:

After getting to the sewers I encountered a group of underground survivor's. If playing on a high chaos playthrough these survivors are instead plague-ridden weepers that will attack the player. Instead, due to my low chaos playthrough until this point, they were a group of survivors who were working together to get their lives back together. Several of the survivors were soon to leave Dunwall on a boat while some of the others were looking for loved ones.

While this level is set in definitely the most destroyed and disgusting area in the game, as well as the lowest point for Corvo, it can also be a level filled with optimism. The player is given several opportunities to have mercy in a world that lacks it so much with situations like Daud's. It also reflects the players actions on a much more personal level. Despite the fact that the survivors even exist in the sewers is something positive, let alone the fact that some of them are about to be free of the nightmare that Dunwall has become. This combined with the fact that each character has their own complex struggles creates a sense that the player has had a serious impact on some lives within Dunwall, a place that feels ever more real as the game continues.

[sepublic]

The Golden Guard is more altruistic than Alador

           The more I think about it… The more I’m convinced that the Golden Guard is honestly more honorable than Alador? Arguably more altruistic, a better person even…!

           Like, yeah- He threatened to kill Luz, Eda, and King, but he never went through with it. If anything, he worked to make sure he didn’t HAVE to do that, with literally nobody asking GG to do so, he worked out a deal in everyone’s favor, sans the Selkidomus, but that’s because its death was a direct and indisputable order from Belos himself.

           Meanwhile, Alador has no issue with Odalia going back on HER deal with Luz- He only makes an exception with Amity… So at best, he thinks that the ‘A Blight always upholds their end of the deal’ rule only applies to fellow Blights; Luz apparently doesn’t deserve that kind of honor and fairness, despite willingly risking her life to undo what Alador and Odalia started in the first place.

           But even that interpretation is likely charitable, because in all probability, Alador didn’t actually care about any sense of honor nor upholding Odalia’s end of the deal- It was just an excuse to get her to reconsider her stance on killing Luz. Keep in mind that Alador has no issue with Odalia murdering Luz- He’s not for it, but he’s not exactly against it either.

          Al literally just finds out that Odalia is going back on her word and killing a child, when up until then Alador believed otherwise, and he doesn’t even bat an eye. He definitely thinks it’s unnecessary and potentially a waste to kill Luz then and there, but Alador also thinks it’s even more of a hassle to just… Disagree with his wife, because there really is nothing Luz can reliably offer him at the moment. It’s only when Luz definitely proves how good she is for Amity, more importantly Amity’s strength, that Alador changes his mind and values Luz’s life- The way one would value a hostage or an asset.

           But the Golden Guard? Again, he already has King hostage. He knows that Eda would risk her life just for King’s crown, and Agony of a Witch made it clear to everyone in the Emperor’s Coven what she’d do for Luz. Just the threat of killing King alone should guarantee for the Golden Guard that Luz and Eda do exactly as he says, from killing the Selkidomus, to peacefully turning themselves in…

           And yet; The Golden Guard goes out of his way to extend mercy and civility. He comes up with the idea to let King go, without any prompting whatsoever- Eda and Luz don’t even get the chance to try to negotiate with him, if they would’ve, before the Golden Guard decides that he doesn’t want to arrest the duo. Maybe he thinks it’s easier and less of a hassle for his tired self to drag them all the way back to the castle or Conformatorium….

           But again, this is someone whose indoctrination would’ve taught him otherwise; Would’ve encouraged him to do whatever it takes to control or even kill wild witches. Arresting the trio would remove a potential liability AND make the Golden Guard look better in Belos’ eyes, he has so many reasons to do so… But instead, he insists on pardoning the trio without anyone’s prompting. The Golden Guard goes directly against what he was taught, purely of his own accord.

           In hindsight this makes sense; The Golden Guard might work for the murderous Belos, but in the end, he’s literally sixteen years old, he’s a minor, he’s as old as Emira and Edric. This is a child who has no doubt been indoctrinated by Belos himself, and he can’t exactly say no to any orders, when that’s something even Lilith, fully-grown and with at least some semblance of an identity outside the Emperor’s Coven –not that she quite recognized that- couldn’t do.

           Alador on the other hand, he’s a full-grown adult. Until the Golden Guard arrives, nobody’s making him do anything- Definitely not Odalia, she trusts and is willing to listen to him. Alador has control, he has plenty of agency and a comfortable position to assert his own decisions from, and yet he’s perfectly content with letting Odalia who knows what; If he’s not passively letting her do things, he’s outright supporting and encouraging them, and honestly I think he does.

           Alador only holds himself and Odalia to a deal when Luz and Amity unknowingly offer something to make it worth his while (Amity’s strength in Abomination Magic and Luz as an inciting motivator). The Golden Guard initiates and offers deals when circumstance would encourage him to do otherwise; And even though he has no reason, he upholds himself to a deal that he didn’t even need to make.

          Literally, the only thing that the Golden Guard got out of making a deal with Luz and Eda, instead of just threatening them with King’s death, was… The trio’s overall survival and pardoning? Maybe the Golden Guard wanted to convince Luz and the others that he’s not actually a threat, that he’s secretly a friend, so who knows… 

          But again, he doesn’t need to when he can use King as a hostage. So even if it’s possible that the Golden Guard does have some hidden motives behind his surprising integrity and low-key altruistic honor, as it currently stands?

           This kid is actually kind of proving himself to be… A better person than Alador? This is a kid who is the right-hand man to Emperor Belos, the Golden Guard’s presence alone makes Alador hastily kneel, with neither him nor Odalia able to argue against orders… So it’s kind of interesting to see how these two characters operate morally, with the Golden Guard honestly being more of a compassionate person low-key, even if he outranks Alador and is more of a threat to him and the cast as a whole.

           Now I’m not saying you should stan the Golden Guard or anything, I’m just pointing out that while some people have charitable perceptions of Alador, in reality- It’s the Golden Guard who has moral high ground? Which isn’t really saying much from a general standpoint, but when compared on a relative scale, yeah, I’d argue the Golden Guard is less terrible of a person, or at least less accountable and responsible for his horrid actions, than Alador Blight.

          The Golden Guard went out of his way to create a helpful deal with his enemies, when it’d be just as easy and more beneficial to force them… He has all of the bargaining power and yet he insists on transferring some of it to others, fairly levelling the playing field, and I think that says a lot. 

          Maybe the Golden Guard is just extremely arrogant, and is conceding control to his enemies as a flex and display of power, to lowkey humiliate them (because he let them go and whatnot, he legit doesn’t take them seriously enough as a threat to actually arrest them), but we’ll just have to wait for further characterization to specify and elaborate.

          For all we know, he IS trying to pass it off as daring confidence… But he might have a hidden heart of gold; There is that moment where the Golden Guard acknowledges to his genuine surprise that he finds King endearing, and when Luz arrives to take back King as part of the promise/offer that the Golden Guard initiated, he tries to play it off as him being grossed out by King’s smell anyway, so he’s mostly doing this for his own benefit, it’s not like he OWES Luz or anything!

          Masks tend to indicate hidden intentions and motives; Perhaps a warm and true personality with a softer, organic, and feeling heart and face- All buried beneath a cold, implacable, metallic exterior that is unfeeling… And the intro has the Golden Guard situated between Lilith, a protagonist, and Kikimora, an unambiguous antagonist. Maybe a neutral stance from him is more from cold pragmatism, but maybe there’s also a real heart to this kid after all?

[hellishhin]

The Ball: Part 1

Length: ~2,500 words

Content warnings: alcohol consumption, mild knife threats

Summary: Sadie, Kireen, and K'lai'a'la have arrived at Taerand's ball. They meet new people who are a bit more than they bargained for.

Taglist: (adds/removes always open!) @betwixtofficial @taerandcalentavar @talesfromaurea @faelanvance @definitelyquestionit @drippingmoon @dontcrywrite

The doors were open wide, allowing a lilting melody to drift toward them on the cool dusk breeze. Against the darkening sky, Ser Calentavar’s manor stood resolute. As the second largest building in Stawold, the manor’s half-timbered framework was filled in by mortar and rubble for most of the first floor. Above the sturdy base of stone, the beautifully aged timbers were filled with wooden planks painted a warm creamy white which served to protect the wood from the elements. Only the Margrave’s manor stood larger than Ser Calentavar’s as most of the lesser buildings in town had their timbers filled in with wattle and daub, most painted a plain white. What truly set Ser Calentavar’s manor apart was the full stone tower soaring above the third story. It was only large enough to contain a single room but was still a sight to behold among the wood and daub of Stawold.

Sadie looked up at the tower as the three women made their way down the cobbled street. She had awoken from her resurrection in the highest room in Stawold and yet he called it his guest room. He must hold his guests in high regard.

A gruff but polite request for their invitations pulled her mind away from the tower. Sadie reached into the bosom of her long rose-pink dress for the parchment. This dress was one of her favorites. She had hand-stitched some flowers across the hem. It was nothing impressive but it was the nicest dress she had.

Kireen handed over her and K’lai’a’la’s invitations as K’lai’a’la stood just behind them, ready to bolt.

“You look lovely tonight, ladies. Have a nice evening,” the guard kept the letters, tossing them into a basket behind him.

Kireen nodded and adjusted her deep blue gown, smoothing it down across her thighs. The embroidery along the sleeves and hem placed her quite comfortably among the crowd as they entered the main hall.

“Behave yourselves. K’lai’a’la, just stand off to the side if you must but you will not attack anyone for any reason. Nobody is going to hurt you. Sadie, supposedly you are familiar with these people so I trust you know how to behave yourself,” Kireen’s sigh said otherwise.

The over-excited halfling took that as her cue and she flounced into the party. Immediately, faces she recognized were greeting her. Jorgga Enteildotr, a very skilled seamstress approached and complimented her dress. Sadie knew it was mostly a nicety as her handiwork was nothing like Jorgga’s. Also in attendance was Otoc Alfandrson, a priest of Armorn the Protector; Alsteit Quinte, an artist whose work is seen in several noble houses in Stawold; and finally, Sadie is stopped in her path to the dessert table when she saw an older man with carefully combed silver hair. Draped in a royal blue silk tunic with golden trim it would be clear to anyone that this man is a part of the high nobility. A further step beyond that, Sadie was able to recognize him as Emmerich Hallgrimursson, the Margrave of Stawold.

Quickly looking around the room, she also spotted Hrimi Thaftheson and Thori Bjornison and almost all of the Margrave’s court! Never did she expect a ball to have both her name and the Margrave’s on the same invite list. Almost vibrating with excitement she turned back to find Kireen but found Ser Calentavar approaching her with a polite smile.

Kireen watched Sadie for a moment until her small stature disappeared among the skirts and cloaks of the crowd. There were no threats here, so the one she was actually worried about was K’lai’a’la who was stuck to her arm, nearly shoving her off her feet. K’lai’a’la had wanted to go with Sadie, Kireen saw that much as she took two steps after her small friend but when the crowd blocked their view, K’lai’a’la retreated back to Kireen’s side.

That was better than her getting separated and losing her head. The elf didn’t have any weapons but that would not stop her from being a threat if she felt the need. Kireen’s concern flew from her mind as soon as she saw the Margrave in his fine silken clothes. She had not been in Stawold for more than a few months and she still would recognize that level of luxury anywhere. Taerand had not mentioned the Margrave would be in attendance.

She had only been at the party a handful of minutes and none of this made sense. She was sure their invitation to the ball would have something to do with his damned favor but why would his favor include the Stawold elite. Only herself, and maybe Sadie would be qualified for anything near political intrigue. But as usual she would be left waiting on Taerand’s whim for any further information. Kireen swiped a glass of mead from a passing servant and tried to look like she was enjoying herself.

***

“Good evening Ser Calentavar!” Sadie curtsied, giving him a friendly smile.

“Good evening Blaze, I am glad you could attend. You are still feeling well, I trust?”

“Right as a sunny day, all thanks to you. But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t still curious about how you did it.”

“Certainly, but a ball is no place to discuss such things,” his tone was still pleasant rather than chastising.

“Of course, you are absolutely right,” Sadie waved her hand through the air as if to chase the thoughts away. “You have put on a beautiful event tonight, thank you for inviting me.”

“After the favor you and your friends have done for me, you have earned your place here tonight. Please relax and enjoy yourself,” he gave her a polite nod and faded into the crowd.

Sadie liked Taerand. Something about him was mildly mysterious but she felt a connection to him after her resurrection. He seemed like perhaps, under his mask of professionalism, was a polite and caring man. Or perhaps that’s what she hoped. With a mental shrug, she continued to the dessert table which was tall enough she had to stand on her tiptoes to see what lay atop it. As she scooted along its length, deciding what she wanted, a servant approached and bowed low next to her.

“May I help make you a plate, miss?”

Sadie happily accepted he added everything she pointed out to her plate. Once her plate was piled with tarts, candied fruit, jellied pastries, and everything else one shouldn’t eat for dinner, she deftly wove her way back through the crowd. It wasn’t hard to find the tall dazzlingly red dragonborn with a terrified elf clutched to her sleeve. Coincidentally, Taerand was speaking to them as she approached.

“--reward for the service you provided me,” Taerand was saying.

“Then I hope to hear from you again,” Kireen replied, looking less annoyed and more resigned, nursing a half finished mead. Sadie silently offered her dessert plate to K’lai’a’la who examined it for a long time before carefully choosing a candied strawberry to sample. When her teeth stuck to the candy coating she wrinkled her nose and placed it back onto the plate making Sadie chuckle.

Taerand gave K’lai’a’la a glance that was almost pitying before he turned to leave. K’lai’a’la picked up on it and glared after him.

“Come on, let’s just enjoy ourselves. Did you see? Even the Margrave is here!” Sadie lifted her dessert plate to share with Kireen too but she declined when a man in a plain white tunic and a burgundy waistcoat strode up to them. He looked starstruck but also slightly out of place.

“Good evening, may I be so bold as to ask if you three are Ser Calentavar’s noble heroes?”

He was a fairly handsome man, a strong jaw offset by a muss of sandy-brown hair which looked like there was only a cursory attempt to tame it. What really set him apart was a pair of lovely blue eyes one could get lost in.

“Well that absolutely would be us: noble heroes of Stawold!” Sadie declared before either of her compatriots could speak. This caused the man to bow low before them.

“Then allow me to humbly introduce myself as Ser Brimir Bjarkansson. I am truly impressed by your deeds and I wish to hear the account first hand, if that is acceptable.”

“Oh yes, I will gladly tell you of our peril-filled adventure to the Wraefen!” Sadie was in absolute heaven as she jumped into the story. Kireen soon went to find them some more drinks, leaving K’lai’a’la behind with Sadie.

***

The people all smelled strongly of flowers and spices, so much so she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Despite living inside the walls for some time, K’lai’a’la would never get used to all of the different scents that came along with the cage-dwellers. Their vibrant clothing was equally assaulting on her senses and yet she found herself among them, smelling and looking like she belonged. It was an insult. These people were weak, they could not hunt their food. It came to them on a shiny tray and so many of them got fat. This was no way to live and nothing could convince her otherwise.

It even hurt to see the small one enjoying it so much but after seeing her as a corpse, happy and talking would always be better than the alternative.

The men with the glittering glasses kept offering her drink. She had tasted one and Kireen had to take it from her before she threw it across the room. Everyone was drinking the poison all the time wherever her friends took her. She would never understand that either. What she did understand was the array of blades set out neatly near the roasted pig which smelled over-seasoned even from several strides away. If she could simply have one of those blades tucked away, she could feel safe because surely others had their own blades obscured by their endless folds of colored fabric.

Kireen was off getting a drink and Sadie was enjoying her drink and distracted by the over-bearing man who was enraptured by Sadie’s retelling of the forest. K’lai’a’la did not want to hear that story anyway. She had lived it. Pretending the other patrons were simply trees to walk through, she avoided each of them on her way to the food table. Nothing looked appetizing but she stared at it anyway. As she leaned over to pretend to get a better look, her hand clasped around the handle of a knife and drew it into the folds of her dress. Perhaps the cloth was useful for one thing. When she lifted her head, unusual motion drew her gaze to the far side of the room.

There she saw a man with brown hair and blue clothing standing closer than normal to a man with black hair and red clothing. The two were whispering to each other and the brown haired one looked around in a similar way she had looked around when she wanted to make sure no one saw her take the knife. K’lai’a’la did not like their behavior to begin with but then they both slipped through a nearby door. This was a concern. She wove her way through the crowd until she was close to the door, then she tried to make it look like she was enjoying the party. She swayed on her feet from side to side and carefully sidled up to the door to concentrate on listening for what was being said behind it.

***

The story had Brimir enraptured, Sadie could tell because he had finished two drinks in the time it took to tell it and it wasn’t a particularly long story.

“Miss Sadie, your recounting has absolutely flagerblasted me!” he tried to set his empty glass on top of an hors d'oeuvre tray of a passing servant. The poor servant just took the glass while somehow maintaining composure. “Might I ask you to dance?” he held out his hands down to her.

Sadie had finished a drink of her own and she giggled “well of course you may.”

Despite their height, Brimir began to dance where they were, not even bothering to take her to a more open space.

“May I say that you and your friends make me want to be a hero? I’ve dreamed of bein’ a hero. Adventures, swords fights, monsters. Can I join you? Next time?” his eyes were a bit glassy but his gaze was earnest. “I know how to wield a sword and all I want to do is help people. Protect the weak, defend the innocent! And just… be friends with someone.”

Everything he said resonated loudly throughout Sadie’s entire being “you are one of us Brimir. We are now officially your friends and we will all help people together!” She declared. Sadie has always been able to read people well and this man had a heart of gold. Boy was she glad Taerand invited him here. The gods were on her side tonight.

“Yes, Ser Brimir, you are officially part of the heroes and we are now officially your friends.”

Brimir let out a victorious whoop, getting the attention of some of the people nearby but before Sadie could apologize, Brimir started spinning her around in his exuberance. They spun and jumped and Sadie couldn’t keep track of where they were or where they were going. She was laughing though, just delighted by his excitement. She wanted to drink with him more often. But her delight was cut short when Brimir backed into something with a thud. The world stopped spinning just in time for her to see the beautiful blue and gold vase that she had previously admired teetering from the plinth Brimir had just bumped into.

Sadie gasped and backed away, instinctively shielding her eyes from the oncoming shatter. Hero Brimir, on the other hand, tried to catch the vase. Arms out-stretched the vase hit just the tips of his fingers but the sweat caused it to sail right through. The sound of ceramic shattering silenced the entire hall.

***

There was too much noise, too much talking. She could not hear what was being said behind the door even though she knew it was important. If she pressed her ear to the door she would be noticed so she just inched closer and closer until she was standing in front of it and still--nothing. K’lai’a’la ground her teeth in frustration until her focus was shattered by the sound of something breaking across the hall. Her head whipped around, as did everyone else’s. It didn’t take her long to spot the story-man standing near an empty pedestal looking deathly pale.

Just then, the door opened behind her, instinctively causing her to whirl around. She found herself face to face with the brown-haired man, her knife out and pointed at his chest. He grabbed her wrist tightly but she dropped the knife catching it with her free hand. She raised the blade to strike when Taerand’s voice cut across the silent hall,

“Enough.”

And she froze.

[next post]----[previous post]

[crohnsawarenessproject]

‘A Bloody Good Time’ July 12th, 2021 #abloodygoodtime © Outhouse Cartoons/C.A.P 2021

I’ve done it, I’ve been on one of the scariest medical adventures of my life to date. I’ve now sat in an ER watching bags of blood being transfused into my body after hitting a scary low red blood cell level due to chronic bleeding issues that snowballed over the last couple of months. Things were a mixed bag at first. Doctors worried the Entyvio wasn't working and instead could be causing my severe bleeding.

Let’s take a step back.

A few months ago, my Entyvio was adjusted from every eight weeks to every four weeks, which was around the same time my temporary GI had switched my standing blood work order from every month to every two months. Shortly after these changes, I started to see blood in my stool.

At first I didn’t think too much of it. A lot of us living with IBD have experienced blood in our stools. It’s not unheard of. A weekend went by, though, where it was just non stop. Everytime I went to the washroom, I would lose a fair amount of blood. Sometimes It would just be blood.

My initial reaction was that it was something I’d eaten. I thought about it, realizing my intake of beef had gone up that week and usually that would cause some issues for me. That had to be it. So I cut back on my beef.

Another week of constant bleeding went by without letting up. I was starting to feel it now. I was getting a bit scared. I reached out to friends and family and someone mentioned that, ‘women lose blood every month so [I] should be fine,’ so I let it slide again.

A few more weeks passed, no changes, I was really starting to feel it now and my blood work was finally in. I could show them what was going on. I had proof. The results show my hemoglobin sitting at 80 points and the rest of my profile being completely out of whack. This should light a fire, and I’d be the one to start it. '

I called the GI office asking for iron (this is all I knew to ask for at the time), stating what I was going through and how I felt. At this point I could barely stand and or walk. My heart felt like it wanted to race out of my chest. I was getting really scared now. I’ve never felt this bad throughout everything I’ve gone through. This was getting to be too much.

This is when they set up an emergency scope. Another week passed before scope day arrived. It was determined that my guts were pretty clean. They mentioned hemorrhoids but an ER doctor clarified that they were only level one which causes minimal issues. This proved a point that I had been trying to make previously, that my health was better than ever, where my Crohn's was considered. This was new. Is new. '

However at that exact moment I wasn’t feeling that great. I was also supposed to receive iron and/or a blood transfusion that day but it never ended up happening. This was a Friday and we all know what would happen over the next couple of days. Absolutely nothing. I knew the numbers everyone was working with were old. Too old. They didn’t have all the current facts nor did they understand how bad I felt.

I tried calling and leaving a message for the doctor just the same. Maybe I could make it to Monday and they could just get me into the IV lab real fast. Well, I barely made it to Monday but thankfully they got back to me first thing in the morning informing me that to get in for IV therapy would take over a week and that I should go to the ER if I believed I needed it sooner. That was an understatement, so we immediately started packing, getting me ready for the ER.

Once we arrived we managed to get through triage pretty quick. I told them what was going on and the moment I noticed a brow begin to furrow I reached into my bag, producing the blood work results from two weeks prior. The moment they saw the numbers things got moving.

Going back through my medical records, I’ve noticed that I’ve never really been in the normal hemoglobin levels but I rarely was under 100 points. When they did my blood work in the ER I was sitting at a cool 40, a number they claimed they hadn’t seen in some time.

Hey, at least I’m shaking things up. Going on new adventures. Like how when they moved me to the trauma ward to give me my IV. Something that normally goes pretty smoothly for me. I have big juicy veins, although they do roll, but as long as I bring this up, it’s usually accounted for. Not this time. No.

First of all, this was the most painful of any IV I’ve ever had, and it started when they accidentally blew a vein in my forearm, causing blood to squirt all over my leg and the floor, they then moved to my hand to put two more in. The pain was almost more than I could take, I wasn’t ready for this when I came in but at least the job was done and they were placed. I thanked my nurse as I always do and I was moved to another section.

I was still pretty chill at this point even though things weren’t the best. I knew why I was there and what I wanted, but there was one thing I wasn’t ready for. A new nurse came in to tell me what was on the docket. I was lined up for a blood transfusion. Three bags worth, but I was going to be admitted and the procedure states that you need to be COVID swabbed. My heart dropped, my smile disappeared and my heart which had slowed a touch since arriving began to pump faster. I had never had a COVID swab. I’ve kept home away from everyone and everything and always wear my mask while I’m out.

Now my thoughts were racing due to the things I had heard or read about in the past regarding people's experiences swabbing. I was so thankful for the fact that I had a very kind and patient nurse who talked me through the entire thing and after everything I had gone through getting the IVs in my arm, it was a piece of cake. It didn’t feel great, that’s for sure. But it was nowhere near as bad as I thought and not even on the same level as what I had gone through with the IVs. Teaching me that my years of experiences have helped me to build a thicker skin. Something younger me wouldn’t have been able to comprehend.

The rest of the night was fairly uneventful. They gave me my first bag of blood, during which the ER doc came to talk to me. They basically wanted a GI doctor to go over everything with me, but they were good after I told them that my Crohn’s was doing pretty good and that I had all of that under control with my GI/GP and that it was my GI’s office that had instructed me to come in for the transfusion.

Shortly after my first bag of blood, I was moved into my own private room in another section of the ER where I received another two bags of blood. I’d end up spending another 8 hours through the night watching my tablet, unable to get any kind of sleep due to the warm temperature of the room. Once the morning shift nurse arrived, I was up, showing how much better I was feeling, ready to go home but it’d be another hour before they’d make it to my room.

Luckily the ER doctor fully agreed with my self-diagnosis, releasing me to be picked up and taken home. We made sure to hit up my favourite diner on the way home, filling me up with a good breakfast after a long night.

The moment I got home I called up my GI office requesting to get the new monocyte iron infusion I was promised the week before as well as to have them revert my standing order back to every month as I was not comfortable with it staying at every two. I was put on Entocort to try and heal some ulcers and it seems that for now it has mostly stopped the bleeding. I’m not entirely convinced that we’ve solved the problem, but for now we’ve put a very good bandaid on it.

Have you ever had serious issues with your hemoglobin before? How’d you and your medical team navigate it? Tell us in the comments below.

[queenofthelanternfish]

Disclaimer: I am once again posting my gf @anesther‘s lovely fics to my account in order for it to have some chance of showing up in the tags. Definitely read it, it’s steamy!!!

-

AN: A much longer chapter, and it probably wasn’t smart with my hands but here we go!

Title: Interfaces

Characters: Entrapta, Hordak, featuring quite a few characters

Pairing: Entrapdak, implied Catradora and future Scorpfuma

Rating: M (smut found its way in)

AO3 is for better times.

                                                          Party

“You are cordially invited to a party held at Bright Moon by Queen Glimmer,” Entrapta reads, holding up the invitation. She looks at her communicator, “Why would you send out an invitation if you’re going to call us directly?”

“I got excited!” Glimmer says. “It’s been a while since we had a proper celebration of any sort, and I feel this is a good way to bring everyone together for a little bit.”

“Did you not host an event a few months ago?” Hordak asks over Entrapta’s shoulder.

“No, that was a picnic. Which you two didn’t come to,” Glimmer pouts, crossing her arms.

“Sorry, but we really were too busy to go,” Entrapta says, scratching her cheek. “We will be able to go to your party though!”

“Really?!” Squealing, Glimmer points at the two of them, winking. “I’ll see you two at eight sharp. And you don’t need to dress too fancy, it’s semi-formal!”

With that, the communicator is turned off. Entrapta returns to her mechanics, welding a piece of metal together. She asks, not looking at him, “You don’t mind going, right?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be a waste of an evening. Besides,” Hordak touches her shoulder. “You would encourage me to attend.”

Entrapta flips up her mask, “That I would!”

                                                              -

The dining hall, even for a semi-formal party, seems to be packed with people.

Hordak walks down the steps with Entrapta, staring straight ahead. Entrapta, meanwhile, has her gaze darting everywhere, paying attention to the decorations and individuals.

“Entrapta! Hordak!”

They turn, Glimmer teleporting right in front of them. Entrapta smiles, “Hi!”

“Hello,” Hordak nods.

Glimmer appraises the two of them, “You two are looking good. Love the pantsuit and dress combo.”

“Thanks!” Entrapta looks down at her outfit. “I’ve had this for a while, but I never needed to go out to a party before.”

“Well, be sure to mingle! Refreshments are at the table,” Glimmer tells them.

Hordak watches her walk away. Dusting off imaginary debris from his dress, he glances at the balloons and string occupying every corner of the vicinity.

Entrapta grins up at him, “Do you want to get a drink?”

“Why not,” Hordak replies. Entrapta shuffles on her hair, staying at his eye level. “I thought this was supposed to be semi-formal.”

“Truthfully, I don’t know if what we’re wearing counts, but Glimmer seemed to be pleased with our choices,” Entrapta says. Reaching the table, she leans down, hands folded together. “Ooh, tiny cupcakes!”

Taking a plateful of sweets, Entrapta and Hordak walk over to one of the standing tables.

“Entrapta! There you are!”

She turns, swallowing her sip of soda. She smiles, “Hey, Bow!”

He grins at her, “I thought that was you. Hordak, how’ve you been?”

“Well, thank you. And yourself?”

“I’ve been doing okay. I’ve been helping my dads with their library, for right now, in order to make sure that they have their records on Etherian wars and the First Ones updated.”

“Has it really been taking a long time?” Entrapta asks, holding up her plate.

Taking an offered treat, Bow bites into a cookie, “Amazingly, yes, since the majority of our contents are mislabeled.”

“Have you been making any new inventions?”

“I’m glad you asked, Hordak!” Bow says, ecstatic. “Look, I brought all these new types of arrows, and some technology Glimmer calls Spy Stuff.”

Entrapta lifts an arrow with a strand of hair, sipping her drink, “What’s in this one?”

“It’s one of my explosion arrows!”

“Don’t you have one of those?” Hordak asks. “I remember having that blow up in my face.”

Bow gives a sheepish grin, “I’m still sorry about that.” At Hordak’s offhanded wave, he continues. “And no, this one explodes but it releases smaller pods that also explode. It’s a kinda diversion arrow, I guess.”

“I say this because if you change around the compounds in your arrow, you will be able to produce a more effective explosion that spreads out a fire.”

“It’ll take down anyone!” Entrapta laughs.

Bow mulls over their answers, “Hmm, that would be useful if we needed it again.”

“You could use it for prescribed burning,” Hordak suggests. “Right,” Entrapta agrees, turning to Bow. “Isn’t there an area Perfuma needs to clear away in her kingdom?”

“That sounds like a good idea! I’ll begin tweaking after,” Bow says. “What about you two?”

Together, they begin to discuss the latest inventions they’ve been working on for the past several months. Entrapta and Bow add a layer of zeal to Hordak’s calm demeanor that is relaxing for the three of them. Hordak finds himself at ease, despite knowing that there are folks staring at them, or, more rather, himself. Despite the length of time gone by, Hordak isn’t oblivious to the wary gazes from some of the other guests.

“Hey, if it isn’t the best inventors on Etheria in their little clique!” Glimmer says, appearing in a dazzle of stardust. “How’s it going?”

Bow and Entrapta grin at her, “Going great!”

“Hordak?”

The three of them turn to him, expectant.

“Uh… I’m having a fun time?” Hordak says, intelligently.

“Really?” Glimmer asks, leaning forward to him. “You mean it?”

Hordak gives a thumbs-up.

“Yay!” Glimmer and Bow cheer, feeling accomplished.

“He wouldn’t lie,” Entrapta says to the pair, draining the last drops of her drink. “We are having loads of fun. This is quite the party you set up.”

“I got everyone here, and some of the other princesses showed up too,” Glimmer informs them. She glances behind the three. “Oh, Mom! Dad! Come here.”

Hordak’s ear twitches as he looks at her parents, former enemies and fairly tenuous allies. While Glimmer has taken to him well, Angella and Micah are staring at him with neutral interest. In truth, he feels the same about the previous king and queen.

“Everyone is enjoying themselves!” Glimmer announces, hands on her hips.

“I am glad to hear that this is going well,” Angella says, choosing her words carefully. She looks at Hordak, “Are you finding the festivities to your liking?”

“Yes, thank you,” Hordak says, standing upright. He gives a low, respectful bow, “I appreciate being invited to your home.”

Micah and Angella glance at each other, then their shoulders grow lax.

Micah gives a small smile, “That is good to hear.”

Glancing at Glimmer, Angella steps up to him. She extends her hand, “Thank you for coming. If I may ask, would you care to accompany me to the dance floor? I would enjoy the exercise.”

Keeping his surprise to himself, Hordak looks at Entrapta, who gives an encouraging motion.

Staring at them, Glimmer returns to her conversation with the rest of her friends.

Hands pressed together, Angella spins with Hordak in place. Wings tucked firmly behind her, she steps to the side, “I have heard from Glimmer that you have been helpful in restoring Etheria. Is the progress going well?”

“It has been,” Hordak answers, lacing their fingers together. He gently twirls her body, her footfalls light. He raises a brow, “I know you couldn’t have asked me to join you unless you wanted something from me.”

“What would that be?”

“To interrogate me.”

“I wouldn’t use the word interrogate,” Angella says to him, twisting on the ball of her foot. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she stares at him, “I would use the word ‘threaten,’ if needed.”

“A waste of time, Your Majesty,” Hordak replies, voice low. “I have no malicious intent toward your daughter or kingdom. She asked me to be here.”

“I know,” Angella tells him. “She has allowed bygones to be bygones. And while I have seen that you are not up to your old ways, I wanted to discuss things with you privately. We haven’t been able to talk alone in all this time.”

“I understand the concern, however, I don’t find it prudent or wise to insinuate that I’m biding my time to destroy your planet.”

“A person can never be too sure.”

“If I had ill will towards your people, I wouldn’t have joined the Rebellion in the final battle,” Hordak says, tone clipped.

Angella throws a delicate glare at his direction, “Be that as it may, I wanted to be certain that you aren’t going to harm us in the future. Can we trust you?” At one point in time, they couldn’t have. But he has changed, gone through a metamorphosis that he never expected to undergo. The time spent on Etheria, not as a warlord, but as an individual, showed him how many wasted years he had spent in the name of vengeance and bloodlust. His lack in valuing other lifeforms stemmed from believing that no one had value, least of all himself. He was born to destroy, and that was the end of it.

“I do not expect you to forgive me, or even trust me,” Hordak replies, slowly. “But I promised someone I care about that we would live differently, treat others better. I trust her above all else. And I trust myself to amend what damage I have done.”

Angella lifts an eyebrow, then her gaze softens, staring at nothing. She whispers, “When I lost my husband, I hated you. I hated you more than words could express. Then I felt… numb. So numb I couldn’t bring myself to fight you. As if all life in me had been leached out. I felt this ache in my chest every waking moment. That hatred of you became apathy. I wanted you gone, but at times it felt...” Angella’s voice fades for a moment.

“It felt as though I simply wanted it to be over. In the worst part of me, I wanted you to win, to win and end my suffering. I failed my husband, so what good was I to lead, if I couldn’t protect those close to me? I wanted to be with my beloved, and if it meant giving up my kingdom… I didn’t care. And now I feel as though I have to make up for that, by ensuring your loyalty has changed, because, in those moments of weakness, my loyalty to my people and daughter didn’t matter.”

“I…” Hordak glances at the ground. Then he directs his gaze at her, not breaking eye contact. “I’m sorry. I truly am sorry for the pain I caused you. And more so, knowing now what it means to lose someone you care for.”

Angella looks at Hordak, allowing herself to pirouette around him, “You do?”

“I never had a person I cherished before. I never thought someone would want to be with me. I had… formed these ideas in my mind, that maybe things could fall into place now, and she would be in them. When I believed she had betrayed me, I barely held my composure together. There was rage in me. And I became more determined to destroy all of you. As wrong as it was, it made sense at the time. It wasn’t simply about conquering another nation, but to hurt people because I wanted others to understand my anger. Then, when I thought she had died…” Hordak’s gaze flickers to the side, before turning back to Angella.

“I thought that was it. For a brief moment, I didn’t care if I won or lost. I wanted to die. But then, all that time I spent, it would be for nothing. So I pushed myself to go on, because then, the little I had left, perhaps it would ease the realization that I failed her.”

Angella pauses in her movements, eyeing her previous foe. He meets her gaze, quiet.

Neither of them are open people. They prefer to keep their insecurities and worries at bay, by either neglecting their emotions or engaging in destructive ones. They once led the opposing sides of a war, growing fractured as years came and went. She had been afraid of him for the harm he wrought, and he had been afraid of her for the victories she continued to gain.

He knows, and she does too, that there doesn’t have to be forgiveness to move forward. Perhaps not now, if ever. But resentment is breeding ground for corpses. So she will give him tolerance, and he will prove that that is enough for her to do.

They stand as the music peters out to silence. The applause doesn’t break their concentration.

Angella gives a curtsy, smiling gently, “Thank you. The dance was illuminating.”

Hordak bows, “Likewise, Your Majesty.”

She walks away to Micah, and he walks toward Entrapta, lost love reconciled.

                                                            -

Hordak finds that their little group has increased. Angella and Micah bid them goodbye after their dance, while Perfuma and Scorpia had joined up with them. The four of them slam their fists onto the table, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” Hordak raises a brow as Glimmer tosses her head back, gulping down her beverage. When she puts it on the table, she holds up her pointer finger. Waiting. Then lets out an enormous belch.

“Ooh, Glimmer wins,” Entrapta announces, clapping.

Bow snaps his fingers, “Aw, darn. I thought I had that one.”

Scorpia slaps his back, “I’m sure there are lots of other things you can beat her at.”

“Like what?”

Hordak stands beside them, “You keep your dignity. Is that not better than a… whatever that was?”

“It’s called a burping contest—” explains Glimmer.

“—Disgusting—”

“—And I won, so there.”

Perfuma giggles, leaning onto Scorpia, “Maybe we should see what else we can play.”

Bow hears a sound from behind. Seahawk stands flexing his muscles on a table, Mermista’s face in her palm.

“Glim, we should probably get him,” Bow informs her.

“Ugh, I thought he’d behave. Excuse us.”

Scorpia looks at Hordak, “We saw you dancing with Queen Angella. I didn’t know you could dance.”

Hordak shrugs, “It doesn’t seem overly difficult.”

“Man, it’s been a while since we hung out. Not that we ever did, but it’s kinda weird you’re not my boss anymore.”

“It’s still hard to believe we don’t have to fight anymore,” says Perfuma. “Which is wonderful, conflict always disturbs my energy flow.”

“Ooh, what kind of energy flow?” Entrapta queries, grabbing her recorder.

As they talk, Hordak allows himself to relax. The conversation with Angella, while not terrible, tired him a little.

“Hey, Hordak.”

He looks over his shoulder, “Hello, Catra.”

His once Force Captain sidles up to them, “What are you guys doing?”

“Perfuma is telling me about her energy flow!” Entrapta says.

Catra smirks, “That sounds interesting.”

“Very much!”

Catra looks up, “Hi, Scorpia.”

She nods, “Hi, Catra. You, uh, look good.”

“Thanks.”

Perfuma and Entrapta glance back and forth between them, with Hordak appearing disinterested.

“Whew, sorry, we’re late!” Adora yells, coming up to the group. She glances around, “Where are Bow and Glimmer?”

“They went to go stop the singing pirate from dancing on the table,” Hordak informs her.

“I should go help too. Catra, I’ll be back,” Adora bounds away, telling Seahawk to mind his manners.

Clearing her throat, Scorpia smiles at Catra, “How’s everything?”

“It’s been good. Adora and I have been great.”

“That’s nice, I’m glad you’re doing good.”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

“It is good, yeah.”

Entrapta and Hordak exchange glances.

Perfuma, sensing the odd tension, takes Scorpia’s claw, “Oh, I forgot I wanted to show you this dance move Mermista taught us. Can I?”

Scorpia nods, “Sure! Let’s boogie down!”

Catra sighs as they walk away. Scratching her chin, she says, “I didn’t know they were dating.”

“They’re not,” Entrapta interjects, swinging her legs in her seat. “I think you made it too awkward to be here.”

Catra frowns, “Thanks, Entrapta.”

“You’re welcome!”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Catra turns to Hordak, “You’re quiet as usual.”

“There is nothing to discuss, ergo, I am quiet.”

Dragging a chair over, she sits on it. Taking a cupcake off Entrapta’s plate, she wrinkles her nose, “I never understood the appeal of sugary desserts.”

Entrapta shakes her head, hand on her heart, That is so sad.” She perks up, “Do you want me to see if I can alter your tongue’s ability to perceive sweets?”

“Not today.”

Glimmer, Bow and Adora come up to them, having finally wrangled Seahawk off his ‘stage’ and onto the dance floor.

“I’m parched,” Glimmer says. “I’m going to get another soda.”

“Just don’t burp anymore,” Hordak teases.

“Har har,” Glimmer sticks her tongue out at him.

“What?” Adora asks.

“Entrapta, do you want a refill?”

“Yes, please!”

With a quick teleport, Glimmer takes off and comes back. Tired of being still, they all head to dance in the center of the room. Entrapta and Hordak watch from the sidelines, much better observers than participants.

“You okay?” Entrapta asks, touching his shoulder with a lock of hair.

“Yes, the evening is proving to be tiring, is all.” “When we get back to the lair, we’ll go right to bed.”

Hordak leans on his palm, finding the idea vastly more tempting than anything, “That sounds pleasant.”

Entrapta looks at the dance floor, then back to Hordak. She smiles, “You were really dancing out there.”

“It’s not difficult. It’s simple side motions much of the time.”

“Can I have the next dance?” she asks.

“Of course you can,” Hordak answers. Smirking at her, he leans toward her, murmuring, “I can do a lot more than dance too, you know.”

Slowly, a wide grin spreads across her face, “Do you want to find a room?”

                                                             -

Entrapta drags her mouth along the crook of his neck, breath hot on his pulse.

Hordak’s head tips back, gripping her thighs with his hands. Guiding her hips, she slides onto him. He breathes out when he feels familiar warmth, wet and soft.

Moaning, Entrapta begins to gyrate her hips. Her shirt is unbuttoned, revealing the curve of her breasts. Her fingers dig into his abdomen, gliding them along dark skin. Her hair wraps around his wrists, keeping them at her waist. His thumbs stroke her sides, laying still as she rocks her frame against him.

Breathing out, his eyes shut tight, relishing the feel of her body, strong and secure. Hordak allows his body to loosen, forgetting the world outside this room. Her moans drown out all other sound, the scent of her removing all thought.

All thought except getting caught.

Entrapta grins down at him, and she allows her binding to relax. His hands skim over to her breasts, massaging her nipples through the shirt. Groaning, her back arches, sinking further onto him.

Hordak hisses between gritted teeth, tempted to buck his hips. Her grip tightens, noticing his pelvis shift upward.

She bends low, brushing her mouth over his. His head inches forward, and she inches away. Teasing. Mocking.

Daring.

He thrusts up, causing her to cry out in pleasure.

They glance at the door, and they grin.

Quickening their pace, Entrapta pushes her hips down onto him, the two moving in an easy rhythm.

Panting, Hordak caresses the top of her thighs with his nails, sending shivers throughout her body. She releases one of his hands, and it glides along her frame to her clit. His thumb rubs it slow and gentle, even as she pumps her hips in fast motions on his cock.

Sweat forming on their skin, the two do all they can to make the other scream, all while attempting to be discreet. Entrapta thrusts her body down, Hordak bites his lower lip. Hordak rubs her clit harder, Entrapta covers her mouth with the back of her hand.

Her walls clench around his cock, the sound of their bodies slapping onto one another driving his mind wild. Remembering the talk he had earlier, and he’s all the more glad she’s alive. He reaches up to touch her cheek, throat tight.

Entrapta slows for a moment. She stares down at him, gaze loving. Pressing her hand against his, they don’t say anything. Glad they don’t have to miss each other anymore.

The movements pick up faster than before, trying to make up for lost time, the past mistakes made to stand in the way of what’s happening. Soon, they forget all that. Ministrations become more hurried, and they forget to be completely quiet, allowing their moans to deepen, gaining a little more volume.

Bodies hot, Entrapta and Hordak come together, muscles tensing, then easing. They glance at the door.

Entrapta and Hordak grin at each other, laughing quietly in the dark.

                                                               -

“Hope everyone had fun!” Glimmer shouts at guests disbanding. She turns to Hordak and Entrapta, “And it was nice of you to join us on the dance floor near the end.”

Entrapta beams at her host, “It was a lot of fun! And the food was delicious.”

Hordak bows his head, “It proved to be an entertaining night.”

“Well, don’t forget your party favors,” Bow tells them, handing each a small bag. “Don’t be strangers.”

“Seriously, you’re welcome at Bright Moon anytime,” Glimmer tells them.

Entrapta smiles, Hordak smirking beside her. Bidding farewell, the two wait until they’re well out of earshot before bursting into evil cackles.

“I wonder what they’re laughing about,” Adora says.

Glimmer shrugs, “I don’t know. I'm more wondering why I got a weird feeling again.”

[mego42]

For the WIP meme! Your monster looks like mine! Rio + Annie broTP! Annnnnd a number! #3!

ty ty welcome to the circus or whatever, hahaha. i’m still in sleep debt idk what i’m saying. 

OKAY! so, rollerskating on, your monster looks like mine is the sex pollen fic I keep banging on about. I decided if I was going to do a widely panned trope I was going to go big vs going home (see also: dean pov, overdoing it in the face of perceived adversary is kind of my thing) and am trying to give it a theme and an arc and a truly unreasonable amount of angst. 

it takes place not that long after s3 and the two of them are like, you know, fairly well marinated in their animosity for each other and get thrown into this situation where they have limited control over how they physically feel about their proximity (heyo sex pollen!) and by god if they’re forced to be even a little bit vulnerable with each other they’re going to make it count and like, forcibly rip each other’s secrets out of each other (the hitman! lucy! 213! 209!). the whole idea behind the theme (and title) is a kind of hazy like calls to like, they’re both monstrous in overlapping ways and how they recognize/react to it is at the root of how they act towards each other. also, it’s alternating POV. 

idk, I have ambitious plans, a sprawling notes document, and probably like a third of it drafted but it’s super rough and I was in a weird place when I wrote it so it’s probs going to get reshaped a lot once I have the full draft out and see what I’m working with, but I have dug out a snippet under the cut!

He shows up a good twenty minutes after he told her to meet him, not bothering to park, just pulling up next to the van where she’s still fuming in the driver’s seat and telling her to get in. She gapes at him through the window, mouth opening and closing while she cycles through her options, deciding how she wants to play it. Curiosity must get the better of her though, because she hops in the passenger seat without a word—a fuckin’ miracle in and of itself. 

She holds it in for all of five minutes which, credit where credit’s due, is about four and a half longer than he was expecting.

“Where are we going?” 

She’s got that pissy little holier than thou tone going on, the one that always makes him itch to knock her down a peg or two.

“Bet you find out when we get there.”

The silence that falls between them’s thick enough it’s nearly tangible. Somethin’ ‘bout havin’ her in the car, even as big as it is, makes her feel closer than sittin’ next to her at a picnic table.

Rio takes shallow breaths, trying not to notice the hint of her perfume coating every inhale—something floral but not sweet, makes him think of night blooms and creamy, lush petals, makes him remember how much richer it smells right up against her skin.

He takes the next turn harder than he needs to, throwing them both around.

Elizabeth huffs and readjusts, making the leather creak. The tension radiating off her loosens his shoulders, and he relaxes back in his seat. He can see her drumming her fingers on her knee out of the corner of his eye, then smoothing her palms along her thighs like she’s trying to wipe something off. 

“Why bring me? Why not Mick or—or...any of your other guys?”

He scoffs, playin’ it up more than he needs to so she knows it’s a stupid question. “I roll in with back up, it looks like I think I need it. I roll in with you…”

He lets the sentence hang there, lazily turns his head to look at her and watch her bristle like a cat as she fills in the blanks. The funny part is of everyone he’s dealin’ with tonight she came the closest to finishin’ him off but he’s not about to tell her that. 

“‘Sides,” he continues, just to rub salt in the wound. “I need someone to take notes.”

“I’m not your secretary,” she snaps, that fake as hell yes sir, no sir mask she’s been painting on lately slipping and the tips of her claws coming out. Rio’ pulse jumps in answer.

“Yeah? You ain’t a sharpshooter either but you gave that your best go.”

That shuts her up for the rest of the ride. He’s almost disappointed. 

rio + annie brotp 

this one is just a concept as of now. the idea is rio and annie are roommates who maybe occasionally hook up when they’re bored, but mostly kind of just bump along sniping at each other and openly judging each other’s lives and choices but in a functionally dysfunctional sort of way, and their equilibrium is thrown off when annie’s older sister needs a place to stay for a while bc her life is falling apart. idk if/when I’ll ever get around to writing it because there is uh, lol, obvs some major yikes potential depending on what choices I make with different dynamics and I know rio and annie is v much not most people’s cup of tea for obvious reasons. I def want to write something with them being friends at some point though bc there’s a lot of comedic potential there that v much appeals to me.

#3

this is a dialogue prompt I wrote an opening for and then apparently abandoned it entirely with no notes to myself so thanks past!meg! you dick!

Beth knows that Annie and Ruby thought she was trying to be funny when she said Rio had a habit of popping up like a genie, and she was, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. 

She’s as used to it as it’s possible to get used to being caught continually off-guard. There’s a part of her that’s constantly on high alert every time she goes out, no matter where, scanning her surroundings, convinced that she’ll see him in the strangest of places. She never does though, and if she feels anything about that at all, it’s only relief and a continual low-level annoyance that he’s got her in a state of perpetual vigilance. 

It’s easier to convince herself of that when she doesn’t take into account those three months he was gone. How she couldn’t stop herself from looking, her attention snagging on all the different pieces of him she’d see in other people out of the corner of her eye: short dark hair, a slender build, a certain way of walking more liquid than anything else. Her breath would catch, her pulse would trip, but then she’d blink and the picture would become clear. It was never him, he’d never sneak up on her again because he was—

But he’s not, he’s here, in her kitchen, in the middle of the night Beth discovers as she screams, dropping the water glass she was coming in to refill in a move eerily similar to the first time she met him but with less groceries and more potential to cut her feet to ribbons.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, pushing past him to grab the broom and dustpan from the mudroom. He grunts as he shifts to the side, trying to get out of her way but she doesn’t think anything of it. “It’s three in the morning.”

why is Rio there? who knows! not me!

my wip folder is a mess and a mystery to me as much as you but ask me about any that strike your fancy anyway

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Most individuals don't have to be informed in regards to the significance of sleep of their lives. They perceive it. The human body provides out distinct alerts when it's beneath stress ensuing from lack of sleep. Nevertheless regardless of figuring out its importance many people aren't able to sleep properly and even adequate. It may possibly be as a result of not getting enough time because of commitments in life or simply due to an lack of means to fall asleep. In each the cases the individuals lastly get caught in a vicious cycle of sleep deprivation. That's after they flip to top-of-the-line sleep help, however what variety of of them get the quality of sleep that they require?

Sleep aids like tablets are one of the best sleep help nevertheless are a short time interval answer not a future treatment. There isn't any such thing as an alternative choice to addressing the basic rationalization for insomnia. It might very nicely be your work routine, your ingesting behavior or just the way in which the air stream is organized in your bedroom. There are in truth a number of explanation why over the counter and prescription capsules will not be a good suggestion. You may as an illustration develop tolerance to the drug and will take additional of it, for it to be efficient leading to a vicious circle. Worse you may get addicted to the drug. And in case you identify to cease you may bear from withdrawal signs.

That aside these drugs have unfavorable effects like drowsiness, confusion, a dry mouth, and even forgetfulness which grow to be obvious the following day. They're going to additionally interact with different medicine and exacerbate an current ailment. What's worse is that sleeping medicines could masks an ailment like a psychological disorder which will be liable for the dearth of sleep, and should be handled as quickly as attainable.

Alternatively there are pure sleeping aids too which some individuals take into account as the proper sleep aid. As an example makes an try and induce sleep by means of leisure methods are a most well-liked methodology. Visualization can act as an efficient sleeping assist too. This works by the person making an attempt to sleep visualizing a extremely peaceable scene like being on a ravishing seashore on a moonlit night time time, or being in an enchanted backyard with basically essentially the most stunning flowers on the planet giving off primarily the most distinctive perfume.

Or you'll try meditation where you utilize refined focus and respiratory techniques to slowly lull yourself to a state of leisure leading to sleep. Then there may be Yoga, a medically proven system of exercise routines the common apply of which teaches your body and ideas to loosen up and let go. This in flip leads to an everyday and restful sleeping pattern. Then of course there may be meals plan. You might want to decrease down on espresso, tea, cigarettes and sugar and eat snacks which can be rich in carbohydrates and magnesium. The previous will make you feel sleepy if consumed round mattress time, whereas the latter acts as a pure sedative. Greatest sleep help differs from person to person.

Sleep aids similar to capsules may match sooner throughout the transient run, nevertheless are detrimental to nicely being in the long term, and usually aren't a holistic or eternal answer. Pure finest sleep aids of the type described above, might take longer to take effect, nevertheless they'll present a permanent answer with immense long run benefits.

David is a writer. In his spare time he keeps his thoughts lively by finding out, swimming and RPG games. David believes that our properly being is extraordinarily necessary as a result of with out our well being we have utterly nothing. Do sleep well and live effectively!

I've struggled with sleep for a lot of of my life. I really feel I used to be round 10 when I first realized that sleep simply did not come easy for me. Since that point, I've made a level best sleep aid to be taught nearly the whole lot that I can about points that would assist me sleep higher.

I need to confess that I've even tried pharmaceuticals. Whereas they have been considerably efficient, I on no account favored the thought of getting hooked on prescription sleep aids. Additionally, most of the time I woke up feeling a bit "hungover". That is why I began on the lookout for pure sleep aids.

Valerian is a mild sedative that's significantly effective in helping these with nervous rigidity and insomnia fall and keep asleep. It has been used as a sleep help as a result of the times of Historic Greece. One of many key advantages is that Valerian has been confirmed to be non-addictive. Scientific studies have confirmed that Valerian is, in precise truth, a very helpful remedy for insomnia.

Melatonin is a hormone that induces sleep that occurs naturally in our our bodies. Melatonin levels are very low throughout the day after which enhance throughout the night because it's going to get darker. As we turn into older, melatonin ranges decrease. For this reason, melatonin is a particularly efficient sleep assist for older people. Melatonin also can assist any time the sleep/wake cycles have been disturbed. For instance, many individuals take melatonin to battle jet lag.

5-HTP is maybe among the greatest sleep aids that there is. It's considered by most to be as efficient as prescribed Social Network Here drugs. It increases the time spent in deep sleep by about 25%. (REM sleep) Most individuals who take 5-HTP get up feeling rested fairly than hungover.

Kava is a very effective anti-nervousness supplement. It might be used for insomnia that could be a results of anxiety. Unfortunately, it has been linked to liver failure. Really, the FDA has put a warning out and Kava gross sales have been banned within the UK.

I have used all tree of these sleep helpers at one time or one other and have discovered them to be effective at serving to me fall asleep and enhance the general high quality of my sleep.

If you might be affected by insomnia top-of-the-line sleep aids you need to use to beat your sleep disorder are undoubtedly pure sleep aids. That isn't to say you should not consult together with your physician to find out in case you're suffering from any medical problems. Should you intend using a herbal sleep remedy or an over-the-counter sleep help and any combination thereof, it's a good suggestion to inform your physician and ask for his or her advice.

What Pure sleeping remedies must you where to buy the best sleep aid use?

Firstly and most easily you must begin unwinding and gratifying on the very least an hour earlier than mattress time which is good preparation for sleeping. This may check this be achieved by a nice scorching tub, participating in some stress-free music, learning a non technical e-e book even some very gentle stretching.

What must be prevented is stimulants resembling caffeinated drinks, alcohol and actions that get your ideas energetic. Keep away from vigorous motion packed reveals on TELEVISION; ideally flip the TV off totally an hour before mattress. The thought proper right here is to get relaxed and wind down earlier than you go to mattress. Do not learn in mattress, do not watch TV in mattress simply go to mattress to sleep. Create an everyday rest routine and you'll find you may begin sleeping properly again very quickly. I know it sounds easy however when is the ultimate time you took a warmth bathtub earlier than mattress and listened to some relaxing music with the lights dimmed? It beats taking sleeping capsules that is for certain.

So what does this imply? Successfully, for starters solely use your bedroom for sleep and naturally love making. For individuals who can program your self into realizing that everytime you go to mattress it is to go to sleep then ultimately that is what is going to occur and you will note that it comes naturally to go to sleep quick.

Make sure the room temperature is cool and that it is darkish. If there may be noise try using ear plugs whether or not it is too sensible use a sleeping masks. Ensure your mattress and bedding is comfy, too many individuals try to sleep in discomfort which leads to disturbed sleep.

[mattysones]

Laparoscopic Hysterectomy Account

This contains graphic discussion of bowel movements, bleeding/blood, medical discussion of intimate body parts, and post-surgery sexual activity.

[Pillowfort Post]

I attempted to use gender-neutral language, but call body parts by their names. This is intended to be helpful for people considering a hysterectomy, as I had a hard time finding first-person accounts of the surgery.

To start, here’s a few things about myself:

I’m 31, physically healthy, with diagnosed ADHD and Major Depression

I have a very low pain tolerance

I DON’T have known medical allergies

I DON’T have bleeding problems

I have not given birth

I had a very good doctor and medical team and am overall satisfied with the experience

I don’t remember the names of my anesthesia

I had a total laparoscopic hysterectomy, removing my uterus, Fallopian tubes, and cervix. My ovaries remain. This is still medically considered a total hysterectomy.

A laparoscopic hysterectomy involves 4 incisions in the belly, 1 for a camera, and the others so the surgeon may move their tools. The organs are cut out and then removed through the vagina. The vagina is then sewn shut with sutras. In my case, my belly incisions were so small (about 1 inch) they were glued shut.

A vaginal hysterectomy was possible, but because I’ve never given birth, this could be an issue for mobility because my vagina is tight.  My surgeon would have done it vaginally if I’d insisted, but suggested the surgery laparoscopically. It’s also supposed to have a shorter healing time.

Pre-Surgery Morning: I was received and asked to strip, including any body piercings. A blood test was taken to make sure I wasn’t pregnant. I was placed on an IV that contained anti-biotics. I was asked several times to explain what surgery I was receiving and if I still consented.

The anesthesiologist came and explained that while I would be put under - it wasn’t the kind that makes you loopy and giggly, it just knocks you out. He asked about family history of allergies. He said I would be put on a breathing tube with a number 7 gauge that would go down my trachea. He said he should be able to wake me up gently, although people’s reactions vary.

I asked him about the risk of waking during surgery, and he said this type of anesthesia had a very low likelihood of waking, near zero. He also said that because this was a major surgery (2.5 hours), he would be monitoring me the entire time, and would be able tell if the anesthesia was wearing off;  your body reacts to pain before you’re actually conscious and he can tell by changes in vitals.

This personally was reassuring to me.

After being wheeled into the operating room, they placed a mask over my face, and within 10 seconds I was unconscious.

Waking Up: I woke in what would be my room confused and in significant pain.  The anesthesiologist was beside me, and my mother wasn’t there yet.  I’m not sure how much time had passed, but the doctor later told me I handled the surgery fine, and they finished an hour early. I only lost about 2 tablespoons of blood.

My legs were extremely numb and I found this upsetting. The nurse said it was probably because of the position I was laying during surgery, and not to worry about it. The feeling came back after about an hour.

A nurse asked me what level of pain I was willing to tolerate; I said a ‘4’. She asked me what I was at currently, and I said about an ‘8’.

The anesthesiologist had to give me several doses of morphine to bring the pain down.

At this point there were many people in the room and the morphine was making me extremely tired. People were trying to talk to me, ask me questions, explain things because I was asking, but I kept falling asleep while sitting up and listening.

I was surprisingly clear-headed on the morphine, but my mouth and tongue were painfully dry and I felt like I was moving in slow motion, and also falling asleep. The nurses brought me a cup of ice to suck on so I could speak. I kept sticking my tongue out to form words because I literally had to stretch my mouth to move it, it was so dry.

The breathing tube in my trachea had been removed before waking, so my throat was also extremely sore, something that has lasted about a week. I also later developed sores on the corner of my mouth were the tube had rubbed. They faded after about 5 days.

My catheter was removed, which didn’t hurt itself, but I felt insistently like I had to pee. For the next several hours I would feel like I had to pee, although it was probably just the catheter irritating my urethra.

I attempted to stand on my own to get to the bathroom despite there likely not being anything in my bladder. This was a mistake, because the morphine made me extremely nauseous and I began dry-heaving. The nurses kept me on oxygen to help with the nausea for a few more hours. My mother said I was extremely pale and grey-lipped.

The hospital delivered lunch, but there was no way I would eat a full meal. I managed to drink my milk and an apple juice, and asked my mom to smash up some pears for me. I was able to graze on the pears over the course of 3 hours with little problem. I felt significantly better after the apple juice, but would spend the next several hours sleeping off and on until the nurses checked on me.

Hospital Stay I vaguely remember babbling to the nurse who primarily watched after me for the day-shift but I don’t remember much of our conversation or what she looked like.

Dinner was brought around 5 or 6, by then I was much more clear-headed and able to stay awake for longer periods. I was extremely hungry and craving meat. I ate about half my meal in 30 minutes before realizing I was probably eating too fast. I asked the nurse, now night shift, and she agreed I should slow down. It took me about 4 hours to eat a fairly small serving, but I was no-longer nauseated.

My mom was also encouraging me to walk circuits around the floor; I’d been able to move my legs fairly early, but walking was still exhausting.

Somewhere around 6pm I began having pain again and was given an Oxycontin.

By now I truly had to pee, and needed some help standing, but I was able to walk to the bathroom on my own.

I was having some trouble getting a stream but could push it out in spurts. There was no pain. Somewhere between 7 and 9pm I was able to pee in a single stream.

I would have to pee frequently afterwards; whenever my bladder got remotely full my stomach and pelvis began hurting, probably because of the stitches. I had to notify the nurses every time I peed because they had to chart how much came out.

My pain levels were still very low - I was now off the morphine and on a rotating IV infusion of Tylenol, Ibuprofen, and Gabapentin.  They did not have to give me another Oxy for the night.

My IV had started to go bad though, meaning: It was burning when I received the infusion, especially when it was flushed with saline. At midnight they stopped giving me the IV infusions, and gave me pills of the same medication.

Home Stay Day 1 After being released the next day, I was given mostly Tylenol and Ibuprofen to manage pain every 3 hours. I had a few Oxy’s for emergencies, and some stuff for constipation and yeast infections (because of the rounds of anti-biotics) Just In Case.

I ended up needing the constipation medicine once or twice, but I personally didn’t have any issues.

I didn’t poop during the hospital stay, but by the time I returned home I was ready. I had some issues pushing because of the pain in my stomach, but was otherwise managing by the third day without medicine.

The first day home I needed help getting out of bed, and was still sleeping a lot.

We took a short walk down the sidewalk , but I wasn’t able to go more than a couple of minutes. Mom woke me every 3 hours for medication; otherwise I slept most of the time.

Coughing would hurt my belly for several days and I had to push on my stomach to ease the pain. My throat was raspy and sore for the next 5 days. I ate a lot of cough drops.

Day 2 Day 2 was basically the same. I could walk a little further. I required an Oxy for pain, and to be able to sleep, but part of that is I had skipped a dose of Tylenol and needed it to sleep. The next several days were fine as far as pain.

Day 3 I was no longer bleeding, and was able to stay awake longer. I attempted to stretch my legs in bed, and was often more comfortable standing for a few minutes. I used my mom’s recliner chair a lot.

I found I was also having a very hard time sitting upright for any length of time, I had to lay back to be comfortable.

Stretching also caused a strange popping sensation in my pelvis. My doctor told me this was likely healing muscles stretching.

A new pain developed over the week: Flairups felt a lot like period cramps, except they didn’t recede. Ibuprofen helped some with this, but some pain was inevitable.

Etc. The next week was basically a blur. I was mostly able to eat light foods, and kept track of my liquid intake. Hydrating was EXTREMELY important; on a day I was up for going out for errands, I nearly passed out in the store. Then I remembered I hadn’t really hydrated that day.

I am making a point to walk my dog for short periods. 2 minutes. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. Etc. Walking and moving is important because blood clots can develop. I also generally feel better for it. I’m 2.5 weeks out of surgery, and I’m still easily winded. I’ve got about 20 minutes of physical activity in me before I have to rest, and a 2-3 hours of being upright and alert before needing to nap.

More Pain Stuff After a week and a half, my big non-narcotic pain med was over, and I had a huge flair up. I took the Oxy for 2 days before calling the nurse. She adjusted my Ibuprofen and Tylenol and that helped significantly.

At 2.5 weeks, I’m needing the Ibuprofen less and less, but I still have flair ups that are exhausting. I can go a whole day without it, and the next day be miserable.

I didn’t bleed for 2 weeks, but the day after my 2 week checkup, it started. My dissolvable stitches began falling out, and with that, blood clots. The blood has been dark and not-soaking through anything, which is normal. I’m still keeping an eye on it.

With the blood clots coming out, is coming pain. It’s manageable, like muscle aches, so I’m just taking my Ibuprofen and riding it out.

I’ve had a lot of trouble sitting. My lower back hurts most of the time, and I actually had to buy a new desk chair; I work from home and sit for hours, and the pain quickly became intolerable. With a nice chair came instant relief, though. It was worth the purchase.

Sex Stuff Honestly, the spike in hormones has been the weirdest thing to deal with.  The surgery happened to fall on when I was due for my period; it never came. I’m not sure how much is normal hormones, relief from internal pain, or perhaps a sexual reaction to pain since sex and pain has been connected for me, for a long time.

About a week and a half after surgery my sex drive restarted, despite any pain. I was able to orgasm using clitoral stimulation, and this did not seem to bother the stitches or cause any pain. If anything, the LACK of nausea, cramping and bleeding was confusing.

I’m still banned from using anything internally (intercourse, toys, tampons, etc) until about a month and a half out. Frankly, everything is still too sore and sensitive to consider it.

Here’s the facts:

With my ovaries remaining, I SHOULDN’T have a hormonal reaction to my uterus being removed.

There is a low to moderate chance that removing the uterus will cause my ovaries to fail; i.e. menopause.

My tumors were large. I am 31, and these were fibroids seen in people in their 50s.  They had developed their own blood vessels and were taking  blood supply from other sources on my body. With increased bloodflow to Elsewhere, there’s a possibility it’s going to my genitals and well, making me horny. I don’t know. I just know it’s been a Thing.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: Ouch.  Ouch!

When I think of myself as a medical detective, with my body presenting a mystery of the weelk for me to solve?  This is what I mean.

I am on day two of sporadic low grade fever.  The problem here is put my body under any physical stress at all and I run a sporadic low grade fever.  One of the many things my body bad at is temperature regulation.  I can vary as much as a degree of either side of normal without it meaning much of anything.  It does it a lot more the worse my disability situation gets, but this has always been the case, since it's a common feature of my sort of brain design.

Thing is this sporadic fever coincides with the extreme pain incident I am experiencing.  Yesterday, it felt like my arm was half severed with an axe, with the pain radiating out from my joint in predictable ways.  It was nigh unbearable on the second strongest pain management package I can marshal with might be described as an impressive legal pharmacopeia and a host of pain management techniques I've learned over literally decades of dealing with this.  The only thing I couldn't do that works was acupuncture, because, you know pandemic.  Also money.

I made a lot of progress with it and it's still bad today, but I no longer want to scream, vomit, and/or pass out if I do something like try to lift my arm to shoulder level.  This is what I call "manageable."  It constitutes stress on my body, which could account for a low grade sporadic fever.  A lot of my body hurts, but in ways predictable for AS plus a pain incident of this magnitude.  I have inventoried the pain pretty thoroughly  and I'm pretty sure it's not viral type "body aches," though I am on enough pain meds to mask mild symptoms.

I have a headache, which could be connected to the pain radiating up my neck or could be a pathogen.  It's indeterminate, with no clear indicators one way or the other.  It's not an allergy or sinus infection headache.  That's the only definite statement I can make.

I am coughing now and then for no reason, but I cough now ad then for no reason every fucking day.  The pattern fits normal "I'm a lung patient coughing," but also, the extra pain meds suppress cough.  Odds are in favour of this being allergy season plus lung scarring, plus lung patient stuff.  Shortness of breath is the same issue basically.  My lungs aren't as good as they were last week, but still fairly high end for my function range.  Odds are allergies plus the usual lung drama.

And then there's the break through nausea.  I'm on what amounts to a cancer patient dose of anti-nausea meds, because it's the only way I can function at all/keep food down.  There was a ton of nausea today.  Problem is, This pain incident is well above the level required to make nausea all by itself, especially when a headache is happening.

My eyes are normal and I definitely still have a sense of taste and smell, though dulled a tad, again normal for allergy season.

I can't not interact with Squirrel especially now, as he's the one who can read the old analog thermometer.  I literally can't see the tiny dark line that tells the temperature.

So idk.  Probably, this is ll my chronic stuff ganging up on me, but I can't really be sure, can I?

There is no point in worrying, so I'm just monitoring it.

In related news, I still feel like crap.  I've stepped a level down on the pain medication, because I fucking hate opioids and my arm is functional today.  (Long term readers will know my family has a genetic anomaly that makes opiods and a number of other drugs do really unpleasant things.  I appear to have a lesser version of that, but instead of high I get a collection of nasty side effects.  I will takes this lesser version over full spectrum hallucinations, paranoia, and extreme agitation and aggression any day.  Seriously, at least three of my relatives looked like they were having a violent psychotic break if you put them on opiods or antipsychotics, so... yeah.  This is much better and means I'm a really safe person to give control over a small supply of prescription narcotics for situations like yesterday.  I tend to save them for things like: I move like a half crushed spider because the pain is so extreme my limbs aren't working right or barely at all and it takes an hour to get my body and limbs in position to take a pain med because the pain is such that I physically can't move more than n inch at a time or that thing where my legs keep collapsing and I need to make dinner, or my  eardrum id perforating again, or...  you get the idea.  The pain needs to be worse than the opioid side effects and I have a pretty high pain tolerance.  I will endure a fuck of a lot before taking even the weakest of pills on top of my nonnarcotic arthritis stuff.)

Anyway, I am mildly impaired and also in a lot of pain, so post quality may vary and I may accidentally double post some article.

[someonefromseoul]

Fuck Me.

Hello. I don’t know who or what I’m directing this to but I’ll just pretend there’s someone actually reading this. Temptation is a strong fundamental desire that doesn’t always have our best interest. Like that time you look in the mirror wishing you haven't had that donut for lunch, or that other time when you turn and toss, only to find yourself not being able to sleep at 4am from the nap you had earlier that day.

I feel like shit right now. I had oily ass bacon for breakfast, cup noodles for brunch, pepperoni pizza for lunch, ice cream cone for dessert, almond soy bean milk as my “work drink”, only to transition my day into a nap.

I feel bloated as fuck and my pimples are having the time of their lives, meeting new friends and such. 

So this only leads me to my usual routine of self hatred and disgust for a solid hour, drotting down what the rest of my day will look like just to fool myself to thinking I’m productive, and get on Tumblr to waste more time complaining about my day!

Okay, but here’s the deal. I really do want to get better again. I stopped working out ever since my gym closed down from that fucking coronavirus (yes, I am that spoiled and self centered only to be complaining about my gym closing during this time of crisis) which has been a couple of months now. 

I had diet fillers on my chin area to get rid of my chin fat right before the quarantine. That was a fucking waste of money since my double chin is back.

Anyway, my point is that I want to be somewhat sane again. My mind is literally going crazy over being stuck at home and I clearly don’t love my body enough judging by how I’ve been treating it. 

I put a face mask earlier today. That’s a change. I’m going to work out starting NOW. In like a few hours. And I’m going to document the progress and process because I want to see the change and actually hold myself accountable if I don’t go through with this. 

So this is the plan.

1. I am 51.8kg (114.2 pounds) right now. My goal weight is 48kg (105 pounds). Okay, so basically my goal is to lose around 10 pounds.

2. I just started an art instagram. Try to post three times a week. I want to have 10 followers by the end of May. And NOT by asking my limited amount of friends to follow. I want to connect with real strangers who are really there for my art.

3. My fucked up skin. Let’s try to clear that out as soon as possible as well. I know I have oily skin and a huge part of that comes down to what I consume. Let’s fucking please stay away from oily and salty food. Drinks permitted is only water, tea, and sometimes alcohol. 

4. Speaking of alcohol, try to stay away from that. Which I’m doing a good job of these days because I’m “social distancing” (no friends). I’m going out tomorrow though but let’s really try to keep it like max 3 drinking nights per month. MAX. preferably once to none.

5. You can never single out alcohol when you’re a smoker. Hi, hello, I’m a smoker. I’ll write a post going more in depth about my smoking journey. Long story short, I’ve been smoking since August of 2013. So like 7 years already. I genuinely don’t know why I started it. Actually that’s a lie, I got into it because I thought it looked cool and I wanted to fit in. Sad, sad weakling I was. Anyway, I’m going to QUIT. I literally say this like merry Christmas to the point my friends just roll their eyes at me whenever I say this. Like, let’s really try to make this a reality instead of this having to be that time I cried wolf again. LIKE PLEASE. For yourself, man. You know you’re getting old and it’s not like you have any more health to spare.

6. Work on my art project. You know which one I mean. I want to keep it on the down low. To roughly plan, I want to work on my portfolio around June July and August. but by June, let’s focus on instagram, enhancing my drawing skills from proko, and this personal art project I’m not going to specifically go into because it’s confidential. Let’s call it Arty. So yeah, finish Arty.

7. My relationships. Mind you, I’ve never seen a therapist because I’m not financially independent and it’s a taboo subject to bring up in Asian culture. At least with my family. So no, I haven’t been professionally diagnosed, but who needs a doctor when we have google, right? So to preface, this is not a legitimate claim I’m making. But I strongly think and believe that I have anxiety; especially social anxiety and an avoidant personality disorder. I definitely deal with SOMETHING-I do plan on going to a therapist the moment I get the chance to, which is hopefully, soon. Anyway, getting back on topic. I want to work on my relationships with my friends and family because I’ve literally been in my shell for the past couple of months. Avoiding people at all costs. Not healthy at all.

8. My mental health. Probably the most important one. If this was a meat house and I could grade my health, I would give it a B+. Definitely not a S, not exactly an A either-but on the fence between A and B. Not quite A- but more of a B+. I don't have any serious health issues but I’m not great either. I feel slightly uncomfortable when breathing, my mind is foggy, and I think I might have hemorrhoids soon. Literally keeps me up at night because it frightens me-I constantly flex my butthole just in case things might peep out (sorry for the TMI but this is my fucking blog so deal) (me still pretending like someone’s actually still reading this shit post) I lose sleep over it, don’t even get me started. Anyway, if my body health is a B+, my mental health is probably around a B-. I don’t think it’s around the C level, but it’s definitely below average (average being a B). It’s at the verge of either becoming average or enter into the C level. A or S is obviously out of reach with my potential right now. But I want to get to an A; possibly to a S some day. Some day. A girl can dream. Anyway, how I want to go about this is to keep writing on this blog. Because I have a fake ass personality, I literally hide my real self to everybody. Kinda psycho like that. At least this little spot can be my safe space where I can get all my genuine shit out. To be serious for 2 seconds, I think I’m fake to people these days because I don’t feel comfortable being completely myself. My self esteem really plummeted after I graduated high school. I’ve been shushing myself internally too-shaming myself about how stupid and weird I sound. I’ve been trying to press down all my negative judgements and thoughts because I didn't want to spread that kind of energy to other people which made me be fake positive all the time. That can be really fucking suffocating, guys. Those of you who know what I mean say I. 

Anyway, I want to find my color again. I think I’ve been shushing and shaming myself for so long, I don't even know who I am anymore. Hopefully writing like this helps. And apparently physically working out does as well. Let’s try to aim everyday, maybe a lazy day per week.

Side note-Kakaotalk keeps spamming me about the sakura flowers and how beautiful it is, suggesting me to go see it. Um, hello. Can you stop harassing me with these insensitive messages? Some people don’t have friends to go with. And it’s quarantine season? Are you dumb?

9. My looks. which goes under self care as well. I’m not gonna lie, I think I’m a fairly okay looking girl. I’m going to change my makeup style because after not putting on makeup for so long and looking back at my old photos, I’ve seen my bare face for so long, I grew fresh pair of eyes to see how I REALLY looked prior to this quarantine. And I finally got what people meant by “your makeup looks obnoxious.” Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE makeup. I’ve loved makeup ever since I was a sophomore in high school. I follow many of the beauty gurus (how they used to call it back in the days. I think people call them beauty influencers or makeup artists now) from youtube and Sephora was my second home. My broke ass owns like majority of the urban decay naked palettes in exchange for eating kimchi and eggs for weeks with my poor college student self in exchange. Poor college student with a BEAT makeup look though.

Anyway, the point I want to get across is that I respect and love ANY form of self expression. There is no such thing as too much or too less (is that even a word) makeup as long as YOU feel good in it. I personally did and I enjoyed my extra caked face. But not anymore. Maybe on some occasions, but I just don’t feel like that’s me anymore. So I need a new make up look, and I literally want new clothes. I hate my freaking outfits. Going to invest in some soon.

I can’t really think of anything else. I want to go in further with some of the topics I’ve tackled today but I think that’s enough journal writing for today. If I think of anything else, I can always update later. I just fucking pray I don't get hemorrhoids. I don’t have it now but I’m just so paranoid because I literally sit down 25/8 and apparently sitting for an extended period of time continuously can cause hemorrhoids. And for some reason I keep feeling like I’m going to get it soon. Like my butthole low-key feels a little weird at times. Hopefully I’m okay.

[wood-warder]

Really Long Character Survey

( @yascaret edited/removed some of the questions to make this more FFXIV-friendly )

RULES.  Repost,  don’t  reblog  ! Tag  10  !  Good  luck!

TAGGED BY. @yascaret and @violet-warder

TAGGING. EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BASICS.

FULL  NAME :  Pjel Qoet

NICKNAME :  NO.

AGE :  It’s a mystery!

BIRTHDAY :  Summer

ETHNIC  GROUP :  Viera (Rava)

NATIONALITY :  Ivalician (?)

LANGUAGE / S :  Common

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :  Homosexual

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION :  Homoromantic

RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :  Much to her own surprise, she’s [re]entered into a relationship with Lofn Yascaret and Aja Hyskaris

HOME  TOWN / AREA :  Qoet, Golmore

CURRENT  HOME :  A little house in Shirogane, maybe?

PROFESSION :  Dark Knight, monster hunter, adventurer

PHYSICAL.

HAIR :  White with peach undertones, long and thick. Generally straight and kept neatly brushed and parted. On rare occasions, she’ll tie the bulk of it up into an enormous ponytail.

EYES :  Bright copper.

FACE :  Heavy lidded eyes, gently sloped cheeks, and a firm jaw that ends in a rounded point of a chin. Strong expressions are a rare sight as she seems to emote largely with her brows.

LIPS : Full.

COMPLEXION :  Dark, brown-grey. A smudge of a paler shade rings her nostrils and beneath the tip of her nose. Dappled with freckles most prominently across the apples of her cheeks.

BLEMISHES :  None that are visible at least.

SCARS :  Typically hidden. There are a few cuts, gashes, and worse that have left their marks.

TATTOOS :  A small marking on the bridge of her nose, the meaning of which is a mystery.

HEIGHT :   *Tall*.

WEIGHT :  On the heavier side, for Viera, on account of being RIPPED.

BUILD :  Marginally wider set than average for Viera. RIPPED, most notably in her core and upper body.

FEATURES :   Pjel considers herself fairly plain for Viera. A strong nose and thick brows, combined with her general impassiveness, lends herself to looking fairly severe and unfriendly in most instances. Thankfully, she’s fond of wearing a black face plate which cranks that up a few notches further!

ALLERGIES :  None that she’s aware of yet.

USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :  Worn down, long and parted down the middle. More of a mane than a defined style.

USUAL  FACE  LOOK :  Aloof, indifferent, perhaps even bored. In the company of friends, she’s more prone to soft grins that are barely even there.

USUAL  CLOTHING :   Heavy plate and mail in golds, black, and crimson. Loose shirts, preferably with high collars and low necklines. Trousers and heeled boots. Hyur fashions fascinate her but her sense leans towards crisp, utilitarian lines.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S :  Nothing. (Except for Garlean war machina, losing herself to Mist frenzy, and failure in general.)

ASPIRATION / S :  To live an honorable life, even if she will not be remembered by her home.

POSITIVE  TRAITS :  Fearless, stalwart, honest.

NEGATIVE  TRAITS :  Reckless, distant, too quick to trust, might have a bit of a martyr complex.

MBTI : ESTJ-A (Executive)

ZODIAC : Virgo

TEMPERAMENT :  Phlegmatic

SOUL  TYPE / S :   Server

ANIMALS :   Lion

VICE HABIT / S :   Brooding, gambling, distancing herself from loved ones (whoops!)

FAITH :  After a fashion, though not in Eorzea’s gods at least

GHOSTS ? :  Yes

AFTERLIFE ? :  Sure

REINCARNATION ? :  One can only hope

ALIENS ? :   ????

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT :  Garlemald bad

EDUCATION  LEVEL :  Enough to get by: basic reading/writing, basic arithmetic.

FAMILY.

FATHER :  Somewhere

MOTHERS :  Pjel has moved past resentment and settled into indifference. She thinks about them still, but not with any fondness.

SIBLINGS :  Many, none of whom she has spoken to in decades.

EXTENDED  FAMILY :  Certainly. When she knew them, she had little involvement in their lives. Now, she has none.

NAME MEANING / S :  Pjel of Qoet. If there is a deeper meaning to her name, it was not shared with her.

HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? :  She was born there.

FAVORITES.

BOOK :  NO.

DEITY :  She respects the reverence of spirits as they do in Doma, but she is not inclined to worship them.

HOLIDAY :  ????

MONTH :  Summer

SEASON :  Summer

PLACE :  On the road between places, the interludes between one challenge and the next. A busy marketplace. Gardens and woods.

WEATHER :  Bright sunny days. Light summer rains, the kind that get humid and sticky.

SOUND / S:  Rustling grass and leaves. Birdsong. The steady drip or babble of water.

SCENT / S :  Approaching rainfall. Grasses, leaves, and earth. Flowers. Incense.

TASTE / S :  Fresh fish. Grilled meats. Creamy stews full of vegetables and mushrooms. Girlfriends.

FEEL / S :  Polished metal. Hard woods. Tree bark. Fur.

ANIMAL / S :  Cats. Chocobos, to a lesser extent.

NUMBER : What kind of nerd picks favorite numbers (it’s 3)

COLORS :  Greens, browns, blues

EXTRA.

TALENTS :  Cutting things the fuck up, teamwork, assessing threats quickly

BAD  AT :  Thinking things through, seeing the bigger picture, maintaining calm once she’s started to lose her temper, understanding and managing money, seeing through lies

TURN  ONS :  Women, especially the ones who can beat her up. Meaningful stares. Brief touches of skin.

TURN  OFFS :  Flirtatious men, chaotic or evil people, cowards, Garleans

HOBBIES :  Fishing, mending armor and blades, gambling

TROPES :  Lady and the Knight, Blood Knight, Combat Stilettos, Cool Mask, BFS, Emotion Suppression, Rage Breaking Point, Dark-skinned Blonde, Statuesque Stunner, Big Ol’ Eyebrows, You Can’t Go Home Again, The Stoic, Held Gaze...

QUOTES : “Let me make it up to you” is a thing she’s been saying to too many people recently

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :  If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called,  what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

A1 :  Some cheesy fantasy/action romp where Pjel not only becomes a renowned knight but also the champion of a beautiful sorceress and the rival/bro of another equally renowned knight. It would be called Final Fantasy 8 and everyone in it is gay.

Q2 :  What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 :  A lot of ambient sounds with light melodies that ramp up into cool battle themes. Basically a Soulsborne soundtrack.

Q3 :  Why did you start writing this character?          

A3 :   I’ve been dying for a viera character since they were teased at Fanfest 2014, and I have a deep love for the whole [dark] knight aesthetic. It’s helped tremendously that I have some really cool friends to bounce ideas and dumb headcanons off of.

Q4 :   What first attracted you to this character?          

A4 :   Viera + DRK = GOOD SHIT, but I am currently living for the Buny Death Squad

Q5 :  Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 :  She’s very short sighted and has a pretty black and white view of the world which can lead her to being dismissive towards people or ideas. Writing her has presented its own set of challenges because I try to rely more on body language and things like that. Sometimes I get the message across, sometimes not!

Q6 :  What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 :  I have no connection to my family and I don’t know how to talk to girls.

Q7 :  How does your muse feel about  you?          

A7 :  I don’t think Pjel would think of me at all because I am a soft, weak human who has nothing to offer to the world.

Q8 :  What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?        

A8 :  Lofn and Aja have been wonderful foils and the chemistry they’ve been trying to rediscover has been so interesting to see. Meeting Anchor got off on such an odd foot (I’M SORRY) but I’ve enjoyed the dynamic there and I’m eager to see where their relationship goes. Likewise with Batuhan and Arasen but yall know I’m a sucker for Stoic Cool Warriors and Bastards, respectively. Nabi and Ghoa have been so delightful in their own ways, and I’m curious to see Pjel learn of Ghoa’s more manipulative tendencies... if she does at all, being the big idiot she is.

Q9 :  What gives  you inspiration  to write  your muse ?        

A9 :  Various battle themes, a lot of stuff from like FF8 and FF9. Soulsborne stuff because I’m weak for it. Also reading anything and everything from RP friends!! Cause yall are inspiring!!!!!!!!

Q10 :  How long did this take you to complete ?          

A10 :  The better part of a day off and on! I saved the tropes bit for last cause I knew that was going to take the longest.

[mindlessselfdeprivation]

The Nothing

It’s just like The Neverending Story. It’s not darkness, it’s not even a hole, because even hole would be something. No, this...this is just nothing.

That’s depression. That’s what true despair is, it’s The Nothing that eats up your everything. It bleaches your life, nothing has any color or flavor or texture anymore. Food sucks, company is annoying, being alone is excruciating and substances exist only as a shit-ass temporary floaty. Recreation means nothing anymore, every desperate action during the day is taken only to distract me from myself for a little bit longer. Sleep will come soon, and in sleep there’s just that sweet fucking nothing. 

Which is what you feel like you constantly have, at any given time. Nothing. The Nothing has it now. And now every memory is covered in spikes, too painful to even go near.

Nothing can make you feel ok anymore, and your good days are the ones where you only brood and lament your life for a few hours out of the day. You know, as opposed to every second you’re awake. 

Those days happen so much more often. I swear to fucking God, some days I feel like the pain inside me is gonna open a fucking hole in the earth. Like I’m no longer going to be able to keep this horrible monster at bay anymore, and the scream that finally peals out of me will shred my lungs and crack open an abyss that swallows me once and for all. 

I fear for anyone that might be around when that bomb goes off. Which is another problem. Although I’m desperate to be seen and heard and known and loved, I’m fucking terrified of getting near anyone ever again, it seems like an absurd idea to even say it out loud. I’m a goddamned hurricane, I’m a fucking natural disaster on legs, an extinction level event taken human form. All of my relationships....it’s just a festering sewage basin, that whole area of my life. Everything there, flies and pestilence, disease and rot. 

That’s my heart in there too. Fucking rotten, like an old forgotten tree stump wasting away in a swamp somewhere in whogivesafuck. Thinking on it, can I even love anymore? Do I even know what that is anymore? 

An older woman I work with asked me for a hug the other day cause she was a little sad, thinking about her brother that died...and I was happy to oblige, she’s the sweetest little thing. And I realized - holy shit, this is the first real hug I’ve had in an entire year. I’ve hardly touched anyone for ten months outside of a handshake or a friendly bro-hug. 

And afterwards she thanked me and said I gave great hugs, and it dawned on me...I remembered being a guy who loved hugs, remembered a guy that was very romantic and affectionate, that insisted on using physical touch to remind those around him that he loved them dearly....then I looked over from that guy to the one that’s in there now. What a shadow, what a husk he’s become. Empty and hollow and discarded. A lost soul...an inevitable consequence of The Nothing.

The worst thing? I mean, if there is a blacker black than all the rest...

The Apathy. That’s what The Nothing shits out and leaves behind for you. You just don’t....fucking....care...anymore.

I used to have passion, play music, learn language or just about any damn thing else (I was always such a junkie for knowledge), write stories or poetry or music or any one of a dozen other things that enjoyed. And I don’t even write this out of sadness or with some sense of self pity, this is just a cold, apathetic recall of facts. There was a guy who knew love and there’s the guy sitting there now. And those are simply two different guys. And the insurance adjuster in me is fairly certain that at this level of damage, it’ll cost more to repair the existing vehicle than it would to just buy a new one.

I don’t have any real relationships anymore. I have the ones that are necessary to maintain normal social function, but even those I put in just enough to get buy and no more. I’ve lost too much and hurt too deeply and hurt others far too much to let anyone close anymore. It’s hard to describe how it feels to look around you and realize you’re standing alone, no one around. 

The only times I hear from someone is when they need something from me. I’m like a tool for rent. Why buy this thing when I only ever need to use it once in a blue moon?

Family? No, two sisters and two brothers in law that I don’t know anymore and they definitely don’t know me. A mom that taught me to use people like pawns and a dad so devoid of emotion and connection that it’s impossible to communicate, a daughter I never see or speak to anymore and an ex that swore we’d remain amicable for the sake of our daughter but slowly, methodically, and fucking brilliantly shut me out of her life completely...and my daughter with her by extension. Friends? No one there that knows me either, just people I talk to on occasion to spend a little bit of my distraction time with someone else.

But no one around me knows this. I put on a pretty decent mask I suppose, my boss apparently thought I was a really happy guy and married with kids. Ha. Cool, it’s working. I’ve gotten good at camouflage. It’s just another form of lying, and I’m incredibly good at lying. 

Talking about it, is like...what’s the fucking point? This is a tar pit, baby. I’m not bringing anyone else in this. Even if you were standing right next to me with a brilliant torch, this darkness, this Nothing around me is far too thick to see it. 

I miss writing though, maybe that’s why I’m finally doing this. Putting something down. I’m going to commit to talking to this fucking thing everyday. No one knows me here, I barely use this website. I only ever got onto it for....well, another person who eventually left. Maybe that’s why I feel I can be ok here, being naked and bleeding and fucked up and real.....no one who knows me by my mask will have to know what lives underneath it. This is my tree of trust.

I don’t want this to just be a dumping ground for depressed Emo bullshit though, I can go listen to Dashboard Confessionals while cutting myself if I wanted to go there. What I want is a true exploration and record of The Nothing as it grows stronger, what it’s taking, what fuels it, can I escape. I don’t want help either, I don’t think there is any such thing (see tar pit reference above). Maybe you’re always alone too, maybe you’re also constantly afraid that the house of cards will get blown down and people will see the real ugly inside. 

Maybe this is just me yelling into the wind that you’re alone, but not so alone. Maybe all of us are and none of us. Maybe I don’t know what to believe anymore.

I’ve tried to remember it, you know. Happiness. I’ve tried to find that motherfucker like Sherlock and his dear Watson, complete with cocaine and violins. You ever try to think of a nice warm fire while you’re soaking wet and freezing your balls off? And how’d that work out for ya? Same idea - “Just think happy thoughts” is like telling someone that just fell into arctic waters that they should “Just think of a nice warm fire”.

Hopefully, they’re still giving you the finger when their body gets frozen in place. It’d be a bit of justice, if there is such a thing.

That happiness is like the thought of a warm blanket when I’m currently buried in snow. Doesn’t actually exist.

There’s not a day where I don’t wake up wishing to fuck that I hadn’t. And there isn’t a night that I go to sleep that I don’t pray that I won’t wake up this time. Life has become a grueling marathon of pain and most days I have trouble figuring out why I fucking bother. 

Even as I’m writing this, I’m constantly stopping to wonder what’s the fucking point. 

I’ve gone on dating apps, funny enough. But every time I actually think about having a connection with someone, it honestly freaks me the fuck out. I’m so fucking damaged, there’s just no fucking way I’ll find someone with a back strong enough to help me carry all this baggage. I freak out and delete the account.

It’s completely not about the sex for me, if you can believe it. I’ve got such a low libido recently that even the idea of it lately gives me paralyzing anxiety. I don’t want to have sex if it’s not with someone I have a good intellectual connection with, and I never have. The problem with that is that sex in my mind is held on this strange pedestal where it straddles the line between sacred entity and foul beast, and it’s gotten so complicated and ridiculous that I just don’t care anymore. 

There isn’t anything even tempting or alluring about sex anymore. Even masturbation is almost completely without enjoyment, used every so often as a tool for general upkeep. And even this The Nothing has it’s hands on. The other day, I stumbled on a video that looked almost exactly like my child’s mother with another man...and I got physically ill. After throwing up 3 times and shaking for nearly an hour, I slowly pulled myself back from the panic attack I was having.

I didn’t eat for 3 days and I couldn’t get another erection for more than a week. Suppose it’s safe to say I’m still in love with that woman, I guess. Not only did I feel like absolute shit that whole week, I felt like shit for feeling like shit. My Yin and my Yang were both very very pissed off. This is just one of a number of broken fuses and faulty wires inside this broken machine.

Sometimes I wish we had the ability to do a form of Vulcan Min-meld, but with emotions and empathy. Especially when someone asks what’s wrong. Just grab their hand and rest it gently over my heart and let it tell the story for which I’ll never have the words. 

That’s also why I’d be scared like hell if that were possible, I’d be afraid the weight of it would crush them. I’m not trying to be really morose or hyperbolic, I’m fairly certain the vast majority of people walking around out there don’t carry this. I’ve talked to them, I know them. When you’ve spent a fucking lifetime perfecting your camouflage and your tower of lies, you can spot someone else playing that game from a mile away. And I’m not saying everyone else out there is skipping through a magic pixie lolly-pop fairyland or anything, but most people out there are general pretty stoked about being alive and doing stuff. People like me are out there, but I don’t see very many people that are under the spell of The Nothing.

I fucking hope not, this is an existence I wouldn’t wish on anyone, friend or foe. On that note, I also hope you aren’t going through that as well if you’re reading this right now. If you’ve never counted the different ways you could choose to end your life instead of counting sheep to fall asleep at night, you are truly blessed. 

I hope you stay whole. And with whatever capacity I’m still capable of feeling it, I love you. Cause maybe you don’t hear it that often either, and for that I’m sorry. I’d rather go without food than love, and I’ve been in both spots before.

I hope The Nothing never finds you.

Until next time.

[ruleandruinrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, MADS!

You have been accepted for the role of FELIKS BAZIN with an approved faceclaim change to Markel Williams. Your request to also age Feliks down has been approved. Admin Em: Mads, i was absolutely thrilled to see an application for Feliks, and my elation only grew the further i read into your application. You immediately proved you understood that he’s neither a good nor evil person, but a victim of his own shortcomings, and circumstances that were beyond his control. Not only that, but you also captured with stunningly, breathtakingly detail how his resurrection has affected him - it’s made him nihilistic, hellbent on revenge, and it’s marked him as an abomination. Thank you for such a wonderful application - I can’t WAIT to see Feliks on the dash. You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: Mads

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: I have a slight preference for they/them, but she/her is more than okay with me.

AGE: 20

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: Now that I’m home, I’ll be on all the time. You can’t get rid of me!!

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS: I think this is some of my best writing, and I don’t know why I didn’t share it before.

NOTE #1: Just as a forewarning, this app is a bit on the depressing side. It involves a lot of death (obviously) and some very concrete ideas on the afterlife that I don’t necessarily believe in. But, like, just so you know it involves very heavy concepts like that.

NOTE #2: If you prefer reading in a Doc format, here is the link to the Google Doc!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER:

Feliks Makari Bazan: the outlier, the corrupt, the careless, the monster.

( FELIKS. ) Lucky. The name mocks Feliks’s misfortune, and he wouldn’t think much of it if it weren’t for his mother. “My little luck-bringer,” she’d say with her fingers entwined in his hair, “I prayed for you, and I prayed for you to live a good life. My lucky Feliks.” Now, after one poisonous life and one brutal death, Feliks thinks she should have prayed harder–or perhaps she should have known that a name and a few whispered words can’t shed light on someone’s life.

( MAKARI. ) Feliks knows not of the meaning of his middle name, but his mother gave it to him because it means blessed. Blessed is all his mother ever wanted him to be. She was hoping for a Savior, a Messiah, and instead she got him: a sin, an abnormality. She hasn’t said it, but Feliks knows she regrets naming him anything at all.

( BAZAN. ) In Feliks’s village, anyone with the Bazan name was known to be modest and kind. They’re a simple and good family, but for every rule there is an exception. Feliks is the exception. His surname means very little to him now, and after his resurrection he only uses it out of necessity. He doesn’t belong to the Bazan family, not anymore, and the name tastes sour every time he speaks it.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

Feliks was originally my second choice, and the character I would have wanted if I didn’t get Stasya. I’ve always been drawn to him, and in my opinion he’s one of the most interesting characters in the rp.

As I mentioned in Stasya’s application, I’m usually drawn to characters with a distinct before and after. I don’t think Feliks’s defining moment could be any more obvious, and to me the most interesting part of his character is exploring the change that took place after his death. I love that he’s been so changed already, but that there’s still an INCREDIBLE amount of potential. When I read his bio, I see so many directions I can take him in. He really seems unfinished in terms of development, and that’s what intrigues me so much.

ALSO, I really wanted a character that was more morally grey, perhaps more troubled, than Stasya. I think any character in this roleplay would’ve fit the bill, but Feliks is interesting to me because he isn’t evil. He’s far from pure, but he’s also a victim of circumstance and is struggling to play with the hand he was dealt. This makes him exactly my type of character, but still SUCH a contrast to Stasya that I think he’ll be a welcome challenge. Like, I don’t often play remorseless characters, and I think Feliks is fairly remorseless and unarguably not a good person. I really wanted the challenge of making him more than what shows on the surface while not resorting to the “secret heart of gold” trope. SO THAT’S WHAT MADE THIS APP SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE OK THIS IS A VERY DIFFERENT CHARACTER FOR ME.

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

( ONE. ) Feliks really needs a hobby. I imagine he spends most of his time lamenting, going through the motions, and plotting revenge–so I’d like to see him take up something he really enjoys and cares about. Whether this is art or reading or something involving handiwork, I’d like to see him learn a skill from someone. He really needs something besides violence, sex, and alcohol to channel his energy into–and I’d like to explore how this would change him, and give him a bit more direction and purpose.

( TWO. ) Because he doesn’t have a hobby or anything to look forward to, Feliks spends a lot of his time bent on revenge. He hasn’t planned much, but he wants Altan to pay for his hubris. He doesn’t want to kill him, though–no, that fate would be too easy for him. Living is much harder than dying, after all. I could see this need for vengeance going one of two ways: Feliks meticulously plans out a way to knock Altan down a peg and acts on it, probably failing, but he won’t give up. OR, he realizes how much time he’s wasting on revenge. This is less likely, but I think with the right people and the right positive development, Feliks could grow to see the blessing in a second chance at life. Currently, he sees it as a curse rather than a chance to start over–but that could change. In that case, I think he’d end up pitying Altan for his hubris rather than despising him for it. I don’t think he’ll find enlightenment any time soon, though, so expect him to plot revenge for a while.

( THREE. ) I’d love for Feliks to care about anyone. He’s always been incredibly self-serving. Even now, when his opinion of himself is extremely low, he’s generally only looking out for himself. I don’t think he’s felt love for anyone in particular, excluding maybe his family who he still treated awfully. I really want him to feel close to someone for once, and love someone selflessly–whether it be romantic, platonic, or familial. I think finding some network of support would really help him feel comfortable in life, and I do really want him to find some sense of acceptance. Like, I don’t want all of his development to be positive, but I do want him to let someone into his heart at least once, at least a little bit.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?

Please kill him a second time. And then bring him back a second time. And then kill him again.

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S):

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Anatoly sent one last nod in Feliks’s direction before his blood painted the deck of the skiff.

Feliks buried three bullets in the Volcra, a final show of glory before the creature wrapped its claws around him, too. He didn’t feel any pain. The adrenaline coursing through his veins numbed every other feeling that was trying to claw its way to the surface. Airborne, Feliks felt a rush he’d never felt before: the rush of knowing he was about to die. It wasn’t scary; it was exciting. This was a soldier’s death, the only death Feliks had ever deserved.

Looking down at the skiff, he chuckled triumphantly. He kept his eyes open. He wanted to see the bloodshed below him, his brothers and sisters in arms suffering the same fate as him. He wanted to see his own blood, too–the gore that had become of his torso terrified him, but reminded him that he’d lived the violent life he’d wanted all the way to the end. One last chuckle caught in his throat as he lost his vision, as the world blurred around him. Before he had time to process his last moments, everything was gone.

Everything was gone–and then everything was back.

His vision was still blurry, but light flooded his sight. He could feel again–all of the unbearable pain and terror crept back, except this time there was no adrenaline to mask it. There was no glory, either. He felt so unlike himself, so unsure and so small.

There was noise all around him, voices he didn’t recognize and sounds he couldn’t quite label. When his vision cleared, there was an unfamiliar face. The light that had stunned him only moments ago was so much dimmer now, and Feliks comprehended that it belonged to the lightning of a storm. He lifted a hand–painstakingly slow–to his face, just to feel it. It felt numb; everything was numb now. The pain that had greeted him now escaped him, and he couldn’t be sure if that was because it wasn’t there or because some part of him wasn’t working correctly.

His eyes drifted closed again, but his chest still shallowly rose and fell. When he focused hard enough, he could feel the air filling his lungs. It was a disgusting feeling. He knew then that there was something wrong–this wasn’t supposed to be happening. He’d died in the air, looking down at all of the destruction. That was real. He remembered the rush he’d felt, the contentment. That was real.

Was this real?

For a moment he thought, maybe this is afterlife. But then a firm graze graced his cheek. His eyes snapped open with an urgency he hadn’t known he was capable of. There was the unfamiliar man again, with his unfamiliar fingers all over his skin. Feliks looked from the man’s hand to his own, the first recognizable sight since he’d woken up. This was definitely real.

He had died, he decided, but this wasn’t death.

Another agonizing pain ripped through him, this time starting from his chest–from his heart that shouldn’t be beating. It was heartbreak. It was the pain of being forced to relearn a truth. It was the realization that, after his death and before this moment, there was only an immense amount of darkness.

He’d always lived as though he believed in nothing, but that wasn’t entirely true. When he closed his eyes for the last time, he expected to open them again in another existence. In heaven or hell, as a ghost, as someone new entirely–it didn’t matter as long as there was something.

But there wasn’t. There was nothing.

This would have been a fine truth if he’d stayed dead. In nonexistence, he wouldn’t have been able to lament over his own nonexistence. But here he was again, in the land of the living, wondering what the point of it all was.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

( ONE. ) If no one is around to make the judgement, is a sin still a sin?

Growing up, Feliks believed two things: morality was based on whether or not you get caught, and there were no gods or saints to catch him. He nodded and smiled when the standard ideas of purity were presented to him, but he never bought what was being sold. He tried when he was young, tried praying to the saints and doing what he was told, but bad things still happened. And when he rebelled, good things still happened.

As a child, Feliks learned how to sin in private. He learned how to do everything his parents told him not to and still impress them with his beautiful smile and shining eyes. His favorite activity became stealing, and by the age of twelve Feliks had quite sticky fingers. He started by taking things no one would miss: pointless trinkets that he would do nothing with. He had a stash underneath his bed, a collection of items he had no use for.

As he got older, he got smarter. He started taking more expensive things, getting more and more stealthy with every year that passed. Instead of doing nothing with them, he would take the items to neighboring villages and sell them. The money he made was always his little secret–his parents never saw the coins and never suspected anything of their golden child.

Stealing was a simple, childish misdeed, but it kept him entertained during his time at the village. In the army, he learned the true value of sins. He learned how exhilarating it was to partake in everything his family told him was immoral. To this day, he steals things from time to time without thinking much about it. He no longer does anything with the items he steals–instead, it’s an impulse he can’t always control. It’s not satisfying in the way it was when he was a child, but he still gets away with the petty crime.

( TWO. ) As a child, Feliks was constantly bored. He was always wishing for more out of life, something that would define him. When he joined the army, he found the definitions he was looking for: sex, alcohol, and violence. He was easily entertained, really, and his life was complete as long as he had his fill of the three pillars. Even his death was thrilling for him. He’d never wanted to live for long. He lived fast, and he’d always expected to die young because of it. When he got exactly the violent sort of death he was hoping for, he took his last breath with contentment.

Waking up from that was the most painful thing he’s ever experienced. Since then, he’s lived life a lot more dully. Even the awful things he used to enjoy bring him no fulfillment. For a month or so post-resurrection, Feliks tried to live exactly as he did before, but sex and parties no longer bring him joy. He’s absolutely bored again, and maybe he always will be. He’s been subjected to the routine life of a guard–this life is a prison, and he supposes he deserves to be imprisoned.

Currently, the only thing that brings him joy is the concept of revenge. Something calculated and vicious, something to make Altan regret the day he set eyes on Feliks. He has no plans for his life beyond this. In fact, he still isn’t planning to live for long. A long life doesn’t seem fulfilling to him, and growing old is the last thing he wants.

( THREE. ) Feliks’s parents prayed for him for years. With every good deed, with every kind word, they hoped for a child in return. They were told it was impossible, that they should give up trying and take in an orphan. They prayed instead. And for their hard work and patience, they were rewarded with a son.

Feliks became his parents’ favorite subject, and they never let him forget the blessing that came with their devotion to a higher cause. He was a joy to the village, too: a lively child with a smile that spoke not of the mischievous acts he committed in private. His mother always told him he lit up the house, he completed the family. This show of favoritism didn’t end when his first sibling was adopted.

Artur joined the family when Feliks was nine. Those nine years gave him quite the head start–but Feliks never asked to be the favorite child. In fact, he would’ve loved to be doted on less. With less attention, Feliks could find more trouble. Every one of his three siblings had remarkable traits: Artur was sensible and intelligent, Erik was brawny and brave, Marta was helpful and warmhearted. But Feliks, the firstborn and the only one of their parents’ blood, was always admired the most. Feliks seemed to be the only one of the four who had a problem with this.

In fact, his siblings loved him just as much as his parents did. When he left for war, he left five broken hearts in his wake. He knew it was an awful thing to do, to leave his family to seek out death and glory, but he never once felt bad about it. His family wouldn’t love the real him, the sins that festered underneath his skin and the selfish desires that took over his heart. He didn’t mind this fact, either. He didn’t need the love–didn’t really believe in it. He was much more fulfilled by things he could touch: the naked human form, intoxicating substances, weapons of mass destruction. That was the life he was made for.

After his death and resurrection, the only true reward he found was the satisfaction of being right. He was right: his family didn’t care for any part of him that wasn’t righteous and pure. He’s been home once since the Grisha touched him, and his mother refused to greet him. Muffled sounds of her wailing came from inside the modest Bazan home, and his father scowled as he saw who his son had become. “Monster,” he spat, “you’re no son of mine.”

“I think you should go,” Marta said softly after their father had left. “And, maybe, never come back. I think that would be for the best.”

Feliks knows now that he will never see his family–or those who had once been his family–ever again. Good riddance, he thinks, I don’t care about them anyway. But the resentment that festers inside of him says something different. The resentment that festers inside of him says that he does care, that he wanted to be loved just as he is.

( FOUR. ) Feliks always believed that afterlife was a lie people believed in to help them get through life. He didn’t need lies like this to live life to the fullest. In fact, his lack of religious beliefs helped him live the way he thought to be the most fulfilling. He did anything he desired without a second thought, and he defined happiness as freedom. However, there was always a small voice in his mind that believed in afterlife. Whether he would go to a place like heaven or a place like hell he didn’t know, but he also didn’t care.

He would never admit the belief–not even to himself–but he felt as though his life would end and begin again somewhere else. Perhaps this was because he’d been told his whole life that virtue would earn him a life after this one, or perhaps he created the belief for himself. When his brother in arms, Anatoly, said that he’d see him on the other side, Feliks believed him. He’ll deny this if ever asked, of course, but he expected to open his eyes and see Anatoly there waiting for him.

The first thing Feliks saw after death was Altan’s face, a face that meant nothing to him at the time except for being the first sign of his life beginning again. There was nothing in-between his death and his resurrection, and Feliks has since accepted this nothingness as a universal truth. Never once has he considered that maybe it is just him who experienced nothing after death. Instead, he’s convinced that life is pointless, that sinners and saints face the same fate, and that it is only cruel coincidence that he is alive today.

This is not his second chance, his clean slate–this is only another pointless existence.

( QUICKSHOTS. )

- Feliks is bisexual. - This is definitely a loose headcanon, as I don’t know what you guys will think of it, but I imagine that Feliks’s body doesn’t function like most. I feel like his heart beats slower, he bleeds less when wounded, he’s a bit colder than the average person, and he might look a bit pale in the face sometimes. Of course, he’s still alive, but there’s a bit of abnormality to the way he functions that might set him apart (even further) from most humans. - Feliks has scars on his torso from the Volcra that killed him. He’s gotten them patched up a bit from a tailor, but he doesn’t want the scars to disappear entirely. He’s proud of the gore he once faced. - Feliks had been raised to believe that Grisha were all abominations. Like most of the beliefs fed to him, he didn’t accept it as truth. This isn’t to say he respected Grisha–he just didn’t care about them at all. Now that he’s been resurrected by a Grisha, most people in his village now believe him to be an abomination as well. For this reason he has been disowned. - He’s tried to convince himself that he doesn’t mind being alone, that he actually prefers having no family and no friends. The truth is, however, that he would love to be accepted unconditionally–he just doesn’t know that about himself. He’s convinced himself that he actually likes the disgusted looks he gets, and he snickers every time someone mocks his existence. But he isn’t happy to be alive. Most of him is ashamed, and the joy he takes from people’s terror is only to help him get through the days. - Sarcasm is a new defense mechanism of Feliks’s. Months ago, he was much more blunt, but now he spits passive-aggressive remarks at anyone who crosses him. - Feliks is a self-proclaimed nihilist, believing that there is no point to life. He doesn’t actively believe in love, or purpose, or much of anything. Before death, there was a spark deep within him that did hope for some of these things, but the nothingness he experienced during death convinced him of life’s pointlessness. - Feliks does realize that he’s lead an awful life and is an awful person, and he knows he doesn’t deserve much better than the hand he was dealt, but he isn’t doing much to change. Currently, he doesn’t see the point in becoming a better person. - Due to the strict rules of his childhood, Feliks has always had a problem with authority. He never cared much for who ruled what, who had power over him–and he was never good with loyalty. Now, after a few months as Viktor’s guard, he’s becoming loyal to him and him only. He would double cross any one of the royals–but never Viktor. Perhaps it’s because he sees a bit of himself in the man, but he believes the youngest prince is the most fit to rule. - If he could, Feliks would eat nothing but red meat and game for the rest of his life.

EXTRAS: Here is a Pinterest board I made for him!

ANYTHING ELSE? I’d like to change his faceclaim to Markel Williams, please! Also–I completely understand if this is a no-go, but I was wondering if I could age him down by just a year, making him 23. Markel is 21, and I have this weird personal rule that I don’t make characters more than 2 years older than their faceclaim. But, like I said, if you’d rather him stay 24, that’s definitely okay–I can break my own rule once.

[diddlesanddoodles]

Mercy  (G/T, human pets, hurt/comfort.)

SIDE STORY TO BITTER LEMONS MAKE.

 You don’t need to read it to enjoy this story, but it will give some context. 

Picture of Tommy and Evrik. 

The room was the equivalent size of a school gymnasium, high bare ceilings exposing the metal structural beams that held bright white lights, and giving the floor a sense of sterile control. There were rows of plastic tubs, square and deep, sitting atop small metal carts and arranged in a grid pattern that ate up the majority of the floor space, looking not unlike a hospital’s nursery ward. Towards the entrance was a long table where an intern and two volunteers enthusiastically greeted people as they came inside, politely asking if they were registered. If the affirmative, and after confirming their names on their lists, they were given a brightly colored sticker to wear upon their person that marked them as being eligible to adopt from the event while those without a sticker were merely there for the novelty of viewing the wares on display.

The wares being Humans beings.

All the potential adopters and casual voyeurs alike were Feirgian. Beings who were very similar to the humans in the tubs save for a few key differences such as the large pointed ears, long sharp canines, and the fact they averaged 26 feet.    

Each plastic tub, made of cloudy plastic, held a single human. Save for the largest of the tubs which was closer to the front and pushed along the side wall. This container held several of the younger humans, children, and of the domesticated variety. Dressed in plain matching cotton coverings, the children were all bouncing and calling as giants passed by. They were not shy in the least and were begging for affection from the all too willing Feirgians who gladly petted and stoked the smaller creatures.

Along the far back wall and nearly wholly neglected by most of the events attendees were the wild humans. A total of five, all fairly young, and mostly in a dour moods. Most of them were curled up in their blankets, one was sleeping, and another was nervously pacing. There was a young blue haired woman, covered in colorful tattoos, who stood close to the edge of her confinement, trying to see outside the clouded plastic or above the rim to watch the giants. When she pulled herself over the rim to see better, their handler came by and shooed her back inside with a mildly scornful frown.

“You have to stay inside, Claire,” Jarden told her, but there was no heat to his tone.

“I was just looking,” the woman replied dejectedly. “It’s dull as crap just sitting here. And I honestly might start ripping this blanket apart. Just to have something to do.”

“It’s just nervous energy,” he told her.

“Giving it a name doesn’t help get rid of it,” she replied. To which Jarden only shrugged.

“The doors just opened,” he said, raising his voice so all five of them could hear. “Have a little patience.”

Tommy wanted to say something snippy, something nasty, but he stopped himself. He had all but bold faced lied to get to this point, having scrapped through his evaluation by biting back every yell and curse word that bubbled up from his throat. The pretense of the whole ordeal was nearly lost when, during his evaluation, Dr. Weis declared that he would have to have two vaccinations. Unlike Astrid, having been seen before him, who did not need any. They had been unexpectedly painful. It was not as though he was not accustom to pain. He played high school football, he got knocked down constantly. He had broken both arms by the time he was ten and had several dentists visits under his belt, one of which included getting a palatal injection that honestly felt as though the needle had penetrated up into his brain. But those vaccinations had been an entire new level of discomfort. Whatever the serum inside actually was, Tommy was inclined to believe it was some kind of carbonated beverage for the way his arms and back felt after both. His skin quivered oddly and there was incredible heat and everything just below the skin at the injection site felt like it was bubbling. The pain lasted for a good five minutes and left him sore and irritable and he almost forgot to play the part of meek, obedient pet. But the giant doctor declared he was suitable to be adopted all the same and he then spent three days cooling his heels in a room with several other humans under the guise of quarantine.  

Even now he had the very real fear that he was more likely to start yelling furiously at the first potential adopter to come near him than keep up his charade of the docile animal. Far more terrified than he had even been in his life, Tommy was pressed up to the back corner of his container, blanket folded neatly into a cushion under him, and he starred out at seemingly nothing. The clouded plastic material of his confinement allowed for him to see vague blobs that were the Feirgains milling about in and amongst the various other tubs that held the domestic humans, who seemed much more popular than the wild variety.

He was not entirely ungrateful for that. Even though his goal was to be adopted, it was more out a sense of self preservation than any real desire to degrade himself to nothing better than a lap dog. The whispered warnings had decided him. There were only three options for a wild human. Adoption, sanctuaries, or the zoo. Jarden had told them that sanctuaries were currently on a freeze and would not accept any more humans save for the sick or elderly as they were sustained almost wholly on visitor donations and as of late, visitor rates had dropped to a decade low and they were in a bit of a crisis. So any young or healthy human would either be adopted or sent to a zoo. The zoo had an unfortunate reputation and after hearing only a small bit of the supposed conditions, Tommy was desperate to be adopted. And so he found himself in a plastic tub. In a gym. In a strange world, a strange city, and surrounded by giants and waited for one of them to pick him.

It was enough to make him cry.

“You’re not looking too good there, little guy,” said a voice from above him and Tommy jerked to attention, not having noticed someone walk up. A Feirgian man was standing over his container, looking down at him with a mild mixed expression of curiosity and concern. “Need me to get one of the workers?”

“No, no. I’m fine,” Tommy managed to blurt out with more assertion than he intended, revealing his answer for the bold faced lie it was.

“You’re paler than milk,” the giant retorted, resting his arm on the lip of the container. “...and shaking.”

“I’m fine. I mean...I’ll be fine,” Tommy amended. “I’ll be fine.”

The giant glanced around briefly and said, “This all a little overwhelming for you, is it?”

Tommy could not catch himself and he snorted. “Oh, you have no idea, buddy. Overwhelming doesn’t begin to cover...” He stopped himself and let the angry snarling of his expression fall back into placid neutrality. “I mean...yeah. It’s...a lot.”

“Don’t feel obligated to censor yourself on my account,” the giant replied with the faint hint of a smile. “Might make you feel better to get it all out. Say it out loud. Does wonders for me.”

The human allowed his mask fall and he regarded the being before him with a pointed look.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna hear the shit-er, I mean, stuff that I have rattling around in my head right now,” he said.

“Try me,” dared the Feirgian in reply, smirking. “I might surprise you.”

He studied the giant for a moment with a critical eye, trying to gauge the seriousness of the challenge, and he decided if this big guy really wanted to know what he thought...well, he did ask for it. With a fortifying breath, Tommy began his tirade on the state of things from his view. How absolutely stupid it was that humans, particular wild humans, were immediately trapped, stripped of their humanity, and sold for profit directly after experiencing easily the most traumatic moment of their lives. If anyone thought being pulled through time and space by a cosmic hissy fit was pleasant, he suggested they find someone large and pay them five bucks to sucker punch them in the chest. Then they might have some semblance of understanding of what the true experience was like. Then have them stripped of all personal possessions, - “...down to you’re freaking tighty whities!” - and told to behave so you can be adopted or you might go to the zoo. Where apparently, people routinely commit suicide due to severe depression or out of desperation to escape crushing the monotony of a rigorously controlled existence where your one purpose is to parade around for the enjoyment of paying tourists and then breed so the resulting babies can be taken away and raised by giants and then sold as pets.

“And then of course,” Tommy continued on heatedly. “On top of all that fresh level of hell, you’ll never see your family again. I’m Italian. You know how big my family is? I have twenty cousins, buddy. Twenty! And they’re all gonna think some serial killer murdered me, hauled off my bloody corpse, and stuffed me in the woods somewhere so some hiker can find my bones thirty years later. My Mom will be wearing black for the rest of her life! And here I am, trying to be patient while some giant without any real understanding of what the fuck I am going through strolls in and decides I’d make a good lap dog because they like the color of my hair or because maybe I look like the pet human they had growing up and give me a stupid new name like Fluffy or Bosco or something stupid like that. I am not a pet, dammit. I am a person!”

He ended his ranting, out of breath and panting, and it was after a quiet moment that he realized his cheeks were streaked with tears. His breathing wavered as he scrubbed viciously at his face to wipe away the offending moisture, equal parts mortified and relieved. The giant had not been wrong, it felt amazing to say it out loud, but the relief was brief as the new fear of the giant’s reaction took hold.  

Staring up at the Feirgan, Tommy could not tell what his expression was. Astonished? Mad? Offended? Would he tell Jarden of his ranting? Had Jarden heard? Would they void his approval and send him to the zoo? Had he just screwed himself over? Oh god, oh god...oh god!

“I admit,” said the giant at last, not sounding at all offended, but rather he seemed bewildered. “That I never even considered how wild humans felt about it all.” He stared thoughtfully, brows furrowing. “Or that I have ever given any of it much consideration. Humans I mean.” The Feirgian was silent for a few more moments before turning his eyes back to Tommy, who for his part was waiting with bated breath and slightly trembling. “What’s you’re name?”

“Thomas Contini,” he replied flatly. “B-but I go by Tommy.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Tommy,” the giant said gently. “I don’t know how much value there is in saying it, but...I am sorry.”

Even after the giant had gone, Tommy was left feeling oddly empty yet...content. Such a simple phrase, often meaningless in the face of such calamity and tragedy. But somehow, it felt sincere. A feeling of calm washed over him then and for the first time since coming to this world, he was able to sleep soundly and without nightmares.

He awoke about half an hour later to a Feirgian lady cooing at him and he was able to bare the indignity of it better than he thought he would. Thankfully, the woman seemed to lose interest in him pretty quickly and outwardly exclaimed her delight upon spotting Claire, with her brightly colored hair and tattoos.

Poor Claire.

Another group of giants passed by, all wanting to touch and pet him and though it made his stomach squirm and roil with indignation and moritfication, he allowed it. But in his head, he was cursing at them all. After what seemed like a solid hour of nonstop petting and general molestation by the curious giants, there was a lull and Tommy was able to catch his breath. He tried to arrange his hair back into something that might generously be called neat. Then he looked around to take stock and felt a start when he did not see the vague shaped blog that was Astrid inside the container to his right. A pang of guilt and sorrow hit him to realize she was gone. She had fallen into this world with him, just a little kid. With bright eyes and freckles and entirely innocent. He prayed silently that whoever it was that picked her out to be their pet would treat her well.

But he did not have much time to grieve as Jarden was suddenly at the edge of his container, grinning like mad. “Congratulations, Tommy.”

The boy blinked up at the dark skinned Ferigian. “What?”

“You got adopted.”

His mouth fell open and he visibly paled. “Wha...uh, but I...huh?”

“Vinya just gave me the confirmation papers,” Jarden said, clearly ecstatic. “Someone’s taking you home.”

Tommy immediately tried to recall every face that had come by to bug him and who might have showed enough interest to consider adopting him. His closest guesstimation was a young Feirgian woman who had enough audacity to actually pick him up and hold him. He had been far too shocked to do anything and perhaps she had interpreted this as him liking her. She had smelled strongly of perfume and was overly affectionate and did not say a blip of English to him during the entire encounter, only cooing at him in Feirgish.  

His stomach felt as though he had swallowed a lead bowling ball. Oh god, he’d been adopted by Elmyra from Tiny Toons! He could just imagine the woman saying, “I’m gonna hug you and kiss you and love you forever and never let you go!”

If she could speak English at all, that is…

“This is a good thing, Tommy,” Jarden said, breaking the boy from his stupor. “I promise. You’re going to be fine, kiddo.”

Tommy could only nod absently even as Jarden reached down to gather him up. Everything else was a blur as they passed the grid of other tubs, some of them now empty. The front entrance was crowded with people and the volunteers were bringing various humans up to the intern who was busy doing something. The intern would call something out and a Feirgian would step up and be handed a bag and then a human. Tommy noticed a lot of the Feirgians were leaving with children and though he did look, he did not see Astrid. But he did see Elmyra. Standing amongst the throngs of people milling about and waiting, ostensibly to collect their new pets.

Tommy wished he were anywhere else.

Jarden walked up to the table where the intern was saying something to a Feirgian couple who were walking away with one of the domestic humans, an adult woman who seemed perfectly pleasantly peachy to be going home with them. The intern, a sandy blond haired woman with brown eyes, turned to Jarden and said something in a chipper voice. She turned and called out something that sounded like it might have been a name, but Tommy felt numb to it all and he did not catch it. His eyes were trained on Elmyra, waiting with his heart in his throat and wondering how the hell he was going to live with this woman…

But she did not move.

Instead, someone else eased out between the crowd with mutterings of apologies and made their way to the table. It was the Feirgian gentleman that Tommy had ranted to earlier in the day. He was on the taller side as Feirgians went, with a lean build, and a face that was only just starting to show his age though his hair was already streaked with gray. He wore a maroon sweater and brown slacks, a long black coat folded over his arm.

And Tommy was at an incredible loss as to how to feel. Even when their eyes met and the giant flashed a small smile, Tommy detected a hint of something else. Something in the man’s eyes. There wasn’t any of the anxious excited energy like the other giants picking up their new pets. He seemed rather...subdued. And it worried Tommy.

A lot.

“Evrik Viteur?” asked the intern as the Feirgian reached the desk. “Wetrim hect geir vos?”

“Jen,” replied the giant, pulling out a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his trousers and handing it to the intern. He silently put his long black coat on.

“Vank suden,” the intern read over the paper before turning to Jarden with a smile. “Ah! Jarden, hos ternum va?”

“Je’,” replied Jarden with a satisfied grin.

There was no sound to the world all of a sudden. People moved their mouths as they spoke above him in Feirgish, but Tommy couldn’t hear it. The only sound that penetrated the haze of panic was the hectic thumping of his own heart.

This was it. The moment. Papers were traded again between the Feirgian man – his owner – and the intern. He said something to Jarden and Tommy felt more than heard the giant’s reply in the form of the vibrations of his chest as he spoke.

He’d been adopted. His humanity was stripped away. He was a pet. Owned. Property. A thing. Having thought of this moment over the course of the last several days to an extent that came close to monomania, Tommy was surprised that he felt more sorrow than anger or fear. He would miss being seen as a person. As an equal to those around him. More than he ever thought he would before this whole mess. It was all he could do to keep from sobbing.

“Tommy,” Jarden said and he was broken from the noiseless maze of his mind. Sound returned with a vengeance and everything seemed far too loud now. He looked up at Jarden with wild eyes.

“H-huh?” he stammered.  

“I said good luck,” the giant replied quietly with a smile and then his hands were pulling Tommy away from him, holding him out into the world. Tommy felt blind and naked and vulnerable in those outstretched hands. Like a new born calf, unsteady, confused, and filled with the instinctive yearning for his mother. “I want to thank you again, Mr. Viteur. I’m happy to see Tommy go to a good home.”

Mr. Viteur inclined his head slightly, his enigmatic smile never wavering and his hands came to take Tommy. “I am happy to provide him with one.”

The moment the unfamiliar giant’s fingers touched him, Tommy shuddered involuntarily and could not meet his eye. Tucked up against the thick wool of the black coat and cradled by one of his owner’s arms, Tommy was lost to the world once more as he retreated into himself. The intern handed a large plastic bag, the logo of the adoption agency plastered on its front, and heavy with its contents. With both bag and human in hand, Mr. Viteur turned towards the doorway and walked out into the noisy street of the city. At some point, his owner shifted him about so that Tommy was tucked inside the coat to shield him from the biting chill of the wind. Neither spoke.

The strange sights of the city were lost to Tommy as he sat miserable and lost and docile in his owner’s arms. The sound of the lively streets were abruptly cut off and the brisk chill was replaced with pleasant warmth as Mr. Viteur walked into a shop. By the smell of it, he wagered it was a coffee shop. Once more Tommy was shifted about and two warm hands placed him carefully onto a high table.

His owner’s face probed his personal space, eyes furrowed and mouth frowning. “Are you all right, my boy? You haven’t said a word and you’re still very pale.”

Tommy could barely bring himself to maintain eye contact and his paltry attempt at answering came out as a strange kind of warble. His eyes were watering…

“Tommy,” the giant said quietly, but firmly. “Talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

After several false starts and fortifying breaths, Tommy managed to croak out a feeble reply. “I….I’m terrified.”

The giant did not seem surprised, but he did look a little sad. “Of me?”

“No. I mean...well, not so much you,” Tommy replied honestly. “I’ll be fine though. I just...I’ll be fine.”

“So you keep saying,” replied the giant, dryly. “But please know that I am not going to hurt you or do anything that would make you unhappy.”

Before he could stop himself Tommy muttered, “You already have...”

There was instant regret, a great wave of it, and he was certain now that his morose mood was now turning towards the suicidal. He should just shut up. Be quiet. Settle down. But his thoughts and feelings felt out of control, almost as though they were not his own. Everything felt out of control. If only he could gain purchase on something. Anything. If only…

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Not like it sounded. I’m sorry, I just...”

“Tommy,” said his owner, voice confusingly soft. He should be mad, Tommy thought. He should at the very least, scold his pet for disobedience. But instead, there was a soft, warm palm pressed to his back. The face ahead of him did not look an ounce angry or displeased. He looked sad. “I may not know very much in the way of humans as a species or what you’ve been through, but I do know people. And it seems to me that you might be having a panic attack.”

If anything, that broke Tommy from the death spiral of thought and feeling and he managed to look a bit dubious at the suggestion. “A panic attack?”

“Yes,” the large man replied. “You’re acting like a cornered animal.”

“Isn’t that what I am?” he replied. “An animal?”

“I quite clearly remember you asserting that you were a person.”

“What does it matter what I say?”

“It matters very much to me,” replied the giant frankly and then a ghost of a smile broke the mild annoyed frown. “Seeing as I just signed a contract promising to take care of you.”

“Why?” Tommy asked finally, getting to the real meat of his confusion. “After I literally screamed all my bullshit at you, you go and decided ‘Hey! He’s a nice kid. I think I’ll adopt him!’ I don’t get it. I don’t get you.”

“Is that why you’re panicking?” his owner asked, greatly amused and perhaps a little relieved. “Because I confuse you?”

“Sure,” Tommy replied disingenuously. “Let’s go with that.”

“Well,” he replied with a shrug. “To be blunt, it was pretty much a spur of the moment decision. I didn’t go there intending to adopt a human. Just to look. But what you said...”

He grew silent, his focus growing distant as he mulled over his next words. “I knew instantly that you were right. And everything felt disgustingly wrong all of a sudden. Those other wild humans and you looked and acted wholly different than the other ones. Like you were going to prison rather than a new home. It’s not like I’ve never seen humans before, but...”

“You didn’t see them as people. Like you,” Tommy finished, the uncomfortable churning of his guts beginning to ease and his mind began to settle. “And now?”

“And now I’m sitting in a coffee shop in the middle of downtown Raudenstein trying to convince a scared kid that I am mean him no ill will.” A pause. “Nor do I intend to change his name to either Fluffy or Bosco.”

Tommy didn’t have a ready answer and his tired mind was not coming up with any snippy retorts or humerus comebacks. So he just said, “So...why then? If you didn’t mean to adopt a pet, why go there? Why bother with any of it? With me?”

“Because you looked like you might need someone to care,” his owner said with enough perceived sincerity to be believable. “And I’m conceited and confident enough in my own abilities and position to think I’ll be able to help.”

“So if you didn’t adopt me to be a pet...then what am I?”

To Tommy’s surprise, the giant shrugged. “In the eyes of the law, you’re property. Bought and paid for. There’s nothing I can do about that.” He paused again and the large hand that had been settled around the human’s shoulders disappeared and the giant stood to his full height, placing his hands into his coat pockets and regarded Tommy with an open expression and looking nonchalant. “But as far as I am concerned, you are simply an unconventional, but still very welcomed, roommate.”

“Roommate?” Tommy echoed and found the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. After a moment, he quipped a sardonic, “Well, how do you expect me to pay rent?”

The giant’s smile turned into a pleased grin and he winked. “We’ll work it out later.” He then offered Tommy his hand and for a moment, the boy was bewildered before recognition hit. A wave of relief, a warm comforting feeling, spread throughout his body. His internal panic subsided and there was something akin to genuine hope nesting in the back alleys of his subconscious. 

He rose to his feet, albeit shakily, and placed his absurdly small hand, in comparison, into the giant’s and they shook.

“By the way, I’m not sure I ever introduced myself. My name is Evrik Viteur.”

This is a side story to Salty Lemonade and its prologue Bitter Lemons Make. Read together and they read ‘Bitter Lemons Make Salty Lemonade’. Get it? Well, I thought it was clever. 

I may write more with Tommy and Evrik in the future, but I really need to start in on the body work of Salty Lemonade which follows Astrid through her life settling in as giant’s pet. Or rather two giants. 

[lifeisanostinato-blog]

Still here

I have received a few private messages from some readers inquiring about my welfare. I guess the numerous bird pictures instead of the usual blog posts made some people think that I had finally lost it.

I’m still here, alive and well.  My life has been fairly busy, despite being snowed in for the past few days. I just chose not to write about it.

This weekend will be two weeks since she broke off communication with me. I feel better and have spent some time in introspection about that brief relationship / acquaintance / arrangement / whatever-you-want-to-call-it .  I was disappointed, sad and even angry at the way she ended things, but all of those feelings barely lasted a few days, before I bottled them all up and tucked them away. I’ve been distracting myself and it seems to be working. The good news is that I don’t think about her / what happened. The predictable bad news is that whatever I have bottled up and tucked away, could become septic or explode when I least expect it

Sometimes, some of the things that I tuck away manage to surface and when they do, this is what I think about:

Before I started seeing her, I was under the impression that I could handle an NSA relationship. I have done it before, multiple times, and I was very confident that I could do it again. With my very low level of emotional unavailability, NSA is fairly easy for me.  I avoid being vulnerable, turn away from affection and hide behind several masks.  Or so I thought, until I met her.

Developing feelings for her was unexpected and completely threw me off  balance. Being off balance made me feel like a stupid teenager who didn’t know how to handle being in love and ended up making a fool of himself. I know the exact moment when it happened and I know the reason it happened. It  (me falling for her) certainly could have been avoided.

What really troubles me is the fact that I developed feelings for someone whose affection for me wasn’t even real.  How could I fall for someone so blindly? How did I lose all sense of judgement? Why did I let myself be vulnerable?

Why do I still have feelings for her? Why do I want her to reach out? Why do I want to reach out?

But these thoughts surface only briefly before I tuck them all away again. Every time a little deeper.

I am going to be on the road for a week starting tomorrow, so I will not be writing much.

Oh, and I discontinued my SA account.