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highsviolets · 3 years

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INTERVIEW NO. 1: RACHEL @djarinsbeskar

hello hello! i am so happy to announce that rachel — aka the immense talent that is @djarinsbeskar — has agreed to be my first interviewee for this new series! thank you to rach and to each one of you for all of your support. to read more about the project, click here, and to submit an author, click here.

| why rachel? |

Rachel captured my imagination from the first time we interacted as mutuals-in-law. She’s bursting with energy and vivaciousness, with a current of kindness just underneath everything she does. Her work is no exception. Oftentimes gritty, raw, and exposing (in … ahem…more ways than one), Rachel challenges her readers to dig deeper into both the story and themselves. Her smut brings a particular fire as it’s laced with need, desire, and mutual trust that leads us deeper into the characters’ identities and how physical affection can mimic other forms of intimacy. She’s a tour de force in this fandom and an absolute joy.

| known for |

Engaging with and encouraging other authors, cultivating inspo posts, attention to world building & character development

| my favorites |

Stitches

Boxer!Din

Full Masterlist • Ko-Fi

| q & a |

When did you start writing? What was that project, and what was it like? Has that feeling or process ever changed over time? Why?

I can’t remember a time I wasn’t writing. I was an avid reader, as I think most writers are—and I remember, after picking up Lord of the Rings—that I could live so many lives, experience so many things, all from the pages of a book. I could make sense of the world through words and ink and paper. And it offered me a level of peace and clarity I wanted to share with others. So, I started writing.

My first project I remember to this day, was a short story about a dog. I had been so heartbroken when I learned that dogs were colourblind. I must have been about seven or eight at the time, and I was fixated on this idea that dogs couldn’t see the vibrant hues that made the world beautiful. It was something I wanted to change—and with all the righteous anger of a child not getting their own way, I sulked over the fact that I couldn’t. Until I wrote it down.

“How do dogs see colour?”

And much like my writing today, I answered myself.

“Dogs don’t need to see colour. Dogs smell colour.”

And so, I wrote a story, about a puppy being brought on different walks by its owner. And with every new street it walked down—colour bloomed with scent. Colours more beautiful and vibrant than we could ever hope to see with our eyes. And it gave me solace and helped me work through an emotion that – granted was immature and inconsequential – had affected me. To this day, I still smile seeing dogs sniffing at everything they pass on their walks. Smelling colour. It gave me the key to my favourite thing in life. I don’t think my process has changed much since then. Much of what I write is based on a skeleton plan, but I leave room for characters to speak and feel as they need to. I like to know the starting point and destination of a chapter—but how they get there, that still falls to instinct. I think I’ve found a happy medium of strict planning and winging it that suits me now—and hopefully it will continue to improve over time!

When did you start posting your writing, and on what platform? What gave you the push to do that?

I mean, fanfiction has always been part of my life. I think anyone who was growing up in the late 2000’s and early 2010’s found their way to fanfiction.net at some time or other. The wild west compared to what we have now! My first post was for the Lord of the Rings fandom on fanfiction.net. It was an anthology of the story told through the eyes of the steeds. Bill the Pony, Shadowfax—it was all very innocent. That was probably in 2010 when I was fifteen. I had been wanting to share writing for a long time but was worried about how it would be received. I didn’t really have a gauge on my level or my creativity and – one of the many flaws of someone with crippling perfectionism – I only ever wanted to provide perfection. That was a major inhibitor when I was younger. By wanting it to be perfect, I never posted anything. Until that stupidly cute LOTR fic. It was freeing to write something that no one but me had any interest in, because if I was writing for myself then there was no one to disappoint, right? And that was all it took. I had some pauses over the years between college and life and such, but I’ve never lost that mindset when it comes to posting.

What your favorite work of yours that you have ever written? Why is it your favorite? What is more important to you when considering your own stories for your own enjoyment — characters? fandom? spice? emotional development? the work you’ve put into it? Is that different than what you enjoy reading most in other people’s fics?

I don’t think it’ll come as much of a surprise when I say Stitches. While not original, I mean—it follows the plot of the Mandalorian quite diligently, it is the piece of work I really hold very close to my heart. Din Djarin as a character is what got me back into writing after what must have been five years? He inspired something. His manner, his personality—he resonated with me as a person in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. And gave me back a creative outlet I had been missing.

It’s funny to say out loud—but I wanted to give him something? I spent so long thinking about his character that half my brain felt like it belonged to him—how he reacted and responded to things etc. and of course, like every dreamy Pisces—I wanted to give him love and happiness. So, Stitches came along. Personally, when writing—it’s a combination of characters, emotional development and spice (I can’t help myself) and when we can follow that development. With Stitches, it’s definitely the spice that is the conduit for development—but I adore showing how the physical can help people who struggle to communicate emotions too complex for words.

I don’t usually read for Din, as most people know—but I do enjoy reading the type of work that Stitches is. Human, damaged—but still with an undercurrent of hope that makes me think of children’s books.

You said, “much like writing today, I answered myself.” Could you talk about that in relation to Stitches?

So, I’m endlessly curious, it has to be said. Especially about why people are the way they are. Why people do A instead of B. Why X person’s immediate thought went to this place instead of that place. And I’m rarely satisfied with superficial explanations. One of the most exciting parts of writing and fanfiction especially, is making sense of that why. There can be countless explanations, some that are content with what is seen on the surface and some that go deep and some that go even deeper still.

Stitches is almost a – very long winded and much too long – answer to the questions I was so intrigued by about Din Djarin, about the Mandalorian and about the Star Wars universe as a whole. I often wondered what happened to people after the Rebellion, the normal people who fought—the people in the background. What did they do next? Did some of them suffer from PTSD? What was the galaxy like right after the Empire fell? That first season of the Mandalorian answered some of those questions, but I wanted to know more. So, I created a reader insert who was a combat medic—and through her, I let myself answer the questions of what happened next.

Regarding Din as a character, I wanted to know what a bounty hunter with a code of honour would do in certain situations—what made him tick, what made hm vulnerable. I wanted to explore the discovery of his identity. Din Djarin didn’t exist after he was taken from Aq Vetina. He became a cog in a very efficient machine of Mandalorians—and it was safe there. I wanted to see what – or who – might encourage him to step into his own. Grogu was that person in a familial sense, but what about romantically? What about individually? There’s so much to explore with this man! So many facets of personality and nuances of character that make him so gorgeous to write and think about.

Talk to me about the Din Djarin Athletic Universe. How does Din as all of these forms of athlete play off who you see him as in canon?

The Athletic Universe! How I adore my athletes. Despite being in a modern setting, I have kept the core of Din’s character in each of them (at least I hope I have!). I like to divide Din’s character into three phases when it comes to canon because he’s not as immovable as people seem to think he is. We discussed this before, how I see Din as a water element—adaptable, but strong enough that he can be as steadfast as rock. But I digress, the first phase is the character we see in the first episode. Basically, before Grogu. There’s an aggressive brutality to Din when we see him bounty hunting. He works on autopilot and isn’t swayed by sob stories or promises. He has the covert but is ultimately separate. Those soft feelings he comes to recognise when he has Grogu are dormant – not non-existent – but they haven’t been nurtured or encouraged. This is the point I extracted Boxer!Din’s personality and story from.

Cyclist!Din on the other hand—is already a father, a biological father to Grogu. And his personality, I took from that moment in the finale of Season two where I believe Din’s transformative arc of character solidified. He was always a father to Grogu, but I do believe that moment where he removes his helmet is the moment, he accepts that role fully in his heart and mind. And that is why I don’t believe for a second, that removing his helmet was him breaking his Creed. In fact, I believe it was the purest act he could do in devotion to his Creed—to his foundling, to his son. The Cyclist!AU is very much the character I see canon Din having should Grogu have stayed with him. This single dad who isn’t quite sure how he got to where he is now—but does anything and everything for his child without thought. It’s a natural instinct for him, and I like exploring those possibilities with Cyclist!Din.

You also said, “he has the covert but is ultimately separate.” What does it take for him — and you — to get to that point of being ‘not separate?’

I mentioned this above, but one of the biggest interests I have in Din as a character is his identity. He’s a Mandalorian, he’s a bounty hunter, he’s the child’s guardian but those are all what he is, not who. I think Din is separate while being part of the covert because he doesn’t know. I don’t think anyone can really be part of something if they don’t know who they are or, they struggle with their identity. It’s curious to me—how you can deceive even yourself to mimic the standard set for the many. In the boxer verse, he identifies himself in relation to his boxing—and every part of his outward personality exhibits those qualities. But when he’s given a softer touch—an outlet of affection, and comfort—we see the softer side of him surface. It’s very much the same with Stitches Din. Identity is like anything, emotions—relationships, bodies. It needs nurturing to thrive, an open door—a safe space. At least, that’s what goes through my mind when I think of him.

Who is your favorite character to read?

Frankie because there are so many ways his character can be interpreted and there are some stellar versions of him that I think of at least once a day. Javi because he reminds me of kintsugi-- golden recovery, broken pottery where the cracks are highlighted with gold. I also adore reading for Boba Fett, Paz Viszla and the clones!

Is there anything else you want your readers to know about you, your writing, or your creative process?

Hmm... only that I am quite literally a gremlin clown who is always here to chat Din, Star Wars, literature, book recs and anything else under the sun! I like to hear people's stories, their opinions etc. it helps me see things from alternative points of view and can truly help the writing process! Other than that, I think I can only thank readers for putting up with my ridiculously long chapters and rambling introspection. Thank you for indulging me always! ❤️

#pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #djarinsbeskar #chat with cris #author interview series #tuserdaniela #userastrid #usernobie #userhai #pedrostories

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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House of Mouse: Mickey and the Culture Clash (Commission by WeirdKev27) or “What the Hell, Clarabelle?”

Hello, hello, hello... I wish I could say I was in good spirits but i’m tired, have covid induced chills running down my spine.. and oh yeah there was an armed insurrection i the captial last night that showed just how broken this country was. And while Monster Bash would still be relevant... I couldn’t do it. I admit to being unable to do an episode where the millitant racist nutjob who harms people runs off into the night, and does much worse in later episodes, while the people she harassed are arrested the night after a bunch of millitant, racist, sociopathic, selfish nightmares sieged the captial, killed a woman, raised the fucking maga flag over the buildling and took pictures like they were goddamn heroes. We got a stark reminder, not a wake up call, not an opening a REMINDER of just how badly broken our country is last night, and it wasn’t till this morning I found out just how BAD it was. The deaths, the flag, the fact josh fucking hawley, MY STAT’ES SENATOR and registered piece of shit, raised A FUCKING FIST IN SOLIDARITY, which gives me the crippling fear his stupidity and unabashed racisim and support of a cou could mean riots at best and attempted uprisings at worst and who knows what kind of hate crimes against those of color and those in my own queer community. I am afraid, tired, and I am pissed and I feel we could ALL use something wholesome, warm and far removed from the shit going on. And in my hour of need to figure out something like that to put on the schedule.. Kev brought up a wonderfufl idea. Every month this month till the end of it Kev is going to comission one episode of a show near and dear to both our hearts that has it’s 20th birthday this month. House of Mouse. He was intitally going to request Pete’s One Man Show, which is one of my faviorites, but was ironcially one I already planned to cover next month to celebrate both the show’s anniversary and Pete’s Birthday. But since he was happy to wait till then to comission it, he instead asked for another classic and one with easily my faviorite character on the show: Moritmer Mouse.

One of the best things House of Mouse did was bring back Mortimer Mouse. Introduced in Mickey’s Rival, Mortimer was an ex of minnies who showed up for one short to be a dick to mickey before running off and leaving Minnie at the mercy of a bull he pissed off. He also weirdly kept electrodes and a car battery in his pants. The short itself is.. not great mostly because Minnie dimissies Mickey rightfully being pissed someone is hitting on his girlfriend in front of him, making jokes at his expense, and generally being a pillock as being jealous... which yeah, yeah he is. Most of the time jealousy and supscison of your partner is ugly, gross and damaging to a relationship. You should trust them unless you’ve been given good reason not to, and if your paranoidly jealous about every friend she has she could be attracted to.. get some fucking help. Seriously, I need to, not for this for various other problems, but get some therapy to help with your trust issues or if your just being the kind of dick who naturally assumes men and women or men and men or women and women or men and nonibinary persons, or women and nonbinary peeps and so on and so on cannot be friends if they could possibly be togehter romantically... grow up. I say all of that because those are serious underlying issues and I didn’t want it to seem like for a moment I was supporting them... and because sometimes i’ts OKAY to be jealous, to either just feel a little jealous of someone, or to you know be irate because your girlfriend’s ex is hitting on her in front of you and she’s being entirely receptive to it.

So yeah i’ts really hard to feel bad for minnie’s bull attack or find the ending sweet after Minnie was you know, what ramona said for an entire short. However my point for this rant, besides giving out about the short again because I clearly didn’t enough in my Mickey Birthday Special, is that Mortimer is still pretty great. He’s a frat bro in the 40′s sense sure, but the idea of a local douche hoping to swoop in and woo minnie away, who has an oddly specific sense of humor and a bizzare, memorable and wonderful walk, seriously the short is worth watching for mortimier’s “I got two car batteris in my pants’ walk, is a good one. While he’d naturally show up in comics and what have you Mortimer just sort of vanished. But clearly someone on the House of Mouse staff, and Mousewerks before it, agreed because Morty was made easily one of the best and most recurring characters in the HOM, and often more prominent than Horace or Gus. While he still tried his old “I’m gonna do your common law wife act” a few times he was mostly there to be an annoying douche when the ep needed one and to be taken down a peg by everyone in the house. And that VERY MUCH includes Mickey. That’s also part of why I love this show bringing him back: It gives Mickey someone besides pete to give out too on a regular basis. He’s still his charming self about it but it’s lovelyt os ee Mickey sarcastically roast someone. And I honestly attribute the main factor of his sucess on the show to VA Maurice LaMarche. While his original VA, Sonny Dawson, was fantastic.. it’s Maurice who very clearly made the character his. While others like Jeff Bennet have taken over since i’ts Maurice who gave him his signature “ha-cha-cha” catchphrase, swagger and signiture voice. And no i’ts not lost on me that one of Maurice’s OTHER best roles is another cartoon mouse.. and I now very badly want him to meet Pinky and the Brain. But yeah, Maurice just oozes the smarm that defines mortimer for me, oozes condescinon and assholery and he, is., glorious. He was a faviorite as a kid, he’s a faviorite now, and Disney needs to use him more.. and also have Maurice voice him for wonderufl world of mickey mouse, though Jeff Bennett is not bad at all I just prefer the master at the role.

So obviously, after the nightmare of an evening america had yesterday, an episode not only about how wholesome mickey and minnie are but about Mickey teaming up with Mortimer was EXACTLY what i needed. So pitter patter, this is Mickey and the Culture clash. As always for house of mouse i’ll be chonking it up and since this one starts right with the wraparound, and sicnce you know I spent a godo few pagraphs going over mortimer and he’s only IN the wraparound this episode... let’s start there

Mickey and the Culture Clash: Don’t Go Changin, To Try and Please Me So we open the episode and the review proper with Mickey performing a banjo sernade for Minnie, their song in fact. It’s a really sweet scene.. that’s quickly ruined by Clarabelle being an asshole, who says i’ts a bit crude. Minnie counters that while “It’s not mozart”, it’s nice and she clearly likes it and the gesture. Instead of you know leaving it there like a good friend, like she’s SUPPOSED to be to Minnie in most continuities, Clarabelle.. takes the things she said and her having to run out to wrangle pluto out of context, painting it as her thinking he’s not sophisticated and then running out because of it. Oh and she tops it by pointing to a classified add from a MM looking for sophisticated companionship.

It just paints Clarabelle not as Minnie’s friend or a chatty gossip, but as a heartless bitch who has no trouble implying one of her best friends would cheat on her boyfriend TO HIS FACE, and is fine wrecking a perfectly lovely relationship just to have more to talk about. Seriously she starts gossiping to everybody on top of it just in case you thought Clarabelle was a decent person in any shape this episode. She’s the one thing about this episode that dosen’t work despite being integral to it.. well two but hte other thing is a small, end of episode gag we’ll get to. This.. this is an integral part of the plot. It also relies on Daisy and Donald being absent for the episode for what I can only assume is their annual sex decathalon because otherwise the second she heard about her friend doing this, before reassuring Minnie, Donald would be holdiing her while Daisy beat the absolute shit out of her for hurting thier closest friend and not bothering to take a look into anything when leveling such a rough accusation at Minnie. In a really stellar, really well paced episode, Clarabelle being so heartless stands out. It’s also, might as well get this out of the way, teh final episode not inlcuding the two holiday specials.. and it’s a good note to go out on otherwise, I just can’t ignore the obnoxious cow in the room.. in both senses of the word.

So yeah Mickey’s trying to be fancy, and Mortimer gets a good dig in about him reading “You having trouble sounding out the words”, but once he hears what’s going on, or rather once he realizes mickey things Mortimer’s personal add is in fact his girlfriend cheating on him, he decides to help Mickey. And to his credit for this con.. Mortimer actually thought things out on how to trick his rival, and his plan here is douchey as hell but incredibly genius: he offers to help mickey and while that’d normally be suspcious he offers a genuine, and very mortimer explination for helping him become a bit more sophisticated to win minnie back: if Minnie finds a handsome, sophisticated guy to date, what chance does MORTIMER have against that? At least with Mickey, in his deluded egocentric view of things anyway, he has a shot at beating him.

So Mickey classes it up a bit, taking some sopshitcated stances when announcing and trying to woo minnie by talking in ye olde english. When that fails, she just finds it silly but charming, Mickey finds Jose.. hitting on her.

Just.. I expect better from you man. Woo ladies all you like as long as your respectful but I expect better than to hit on someone else’s girlfriend.. which granted he has but given the last time we saw him do that, he nearly got stabbed a bunch and the last time he agressively hit on a woman he got punched in the beak as he should, you’d THINK he’d of learned something. Seriously once again Donald is only missing because this time Daisy would be holding Jose down while Donald hit him. Or possibly they’d take turns. Point is Jose REALLY shoudln’t be doing this and knows better.. marginally. But.. it is in character enough so ti’s not as bad as Clarabelle the homewrecker.

So Mickey tries being fancy and goes on to do poetry instead of letting O’Malley and the Alley Cats play.. which is a nice running gag the series does as they NEVER get to play.. which while funny is a shame since I love the Aristocats. So then we finally get what Mortimer’s been playing at, he swoops in, claims MICKEY dosen’t need HER, and uses the same personal add to trick her. See, while what Mortimer’s doing is vile.. unlike clarabelle I can repsect it at least. I don’t condone it and i’m glad he gets foiled.. but as a bad guy plan it’s pretty clever and for someone like Mortimer whose usually pretty incompitent.. it’s pretty suprising he could pull this off. It’s still pretty damn low and scummy, no question, but props to being able to outwit and nearly outplay two people who deal with your crap on a regular basis and still convincingly conning both. Thankfully while he tries to take Minnie out Mickey, in a great visual gag, puts two and two together, and busts out their song, with Mickey and Minnie heartwearmingly reuniting on stage as seen above. Then we get that gag I mentioned not liking: Mickey gets Morty back by planting a false marriage proposal from Moritmer to Clarabelle, again under MM and he gets carried off.. HAHA HE’S BEING FORCED INTO A MARRIAGE HE DOSEN’T. LAUGH. LAUGH AT IT. The gag just really hasn’t aged well, as otherwise it’s clever Mickey used Mortimer’s own trick against both him and the person who caused all of this but really.. Clarabelle gets no real compuance. At worse sshe finds out she was tricked.. but she again you know tried to break up her close friends relationship for shits and giggles. But .. it’s at the very end of the episode and very easy to ignore, so it dosen’t really bother me too bad, and compared to some gags of the type i’ve seen, it could be MUCH worse. Overall this wraparound is one of the series best and a good one to go out on. it has a simple premise, a brilliant antagonist plot, some great bits from all involved, and even a great Belle and Beast cameo. All in all a really good wraparound only hampered by a sexist and dated ending and Clarabelle being portrayed as ...

She’s the worst, in the world. Okay onto the shorts.

Mickey’s Piano Lesson: That was a Fun One

It really was. It’s a simple premise: Minnie wants MIckey to do a piano recital and he decides “I don’t need practice i’m mickey mouse. “ And it’s REALLY nice to have a short that has, rather than aw shucks mickey, shenanigans mickey. While thanks to the new shorts we’ve had tons, it’s still nice to get one in the House of Mouse era, and it’s just fun to see Mickey take the usual donald roll of letting his overconfidence punch him in the face> It fits both though: Both are everyman and while I lean towards the duck, to no one’s shock, Mickey is just as capable, and his lack of practice comes off less like the angry and hostile way donald would dismiss it and mroe just loveable procastination. And as someone who REALLY struggles with procastination I related to this short, as Mickey does everything else he’d rather do from bathing the dog to skydiving till Minnie, in a great bit informs him everyone from the president, to several dignitaries from other countries, to a televised audience will see. We then get two really great and really beatuifully animated bits as MIckey wrestles with the notes on thep age then fights with his piano as he performs, still pulling it off but destroying the thing and rightfully earning a glare form his girlfriend. Just a fun, slapstick short with a great premise.

Dance of the Goofys: Scary Children Set to classical music, this one has a bunch of goofys as Fairy’s, who are making the flowers go and the one who sleeps in ends up saving the king from a horrifing looking little brat. He reminds me of Montanna Max a bit.. speaking of which Creer Summer recnetly announced Elmyra won’t be in the reboot. And while this does make me fear actually good characters like Fifi, Montana Max, and more will be cut like the animanics reboot and I do feel for Cree not getting to be involved and hope they find another roll for her as, given her status in the industry she deserves better.. THANK FUCKING GOD. I’ll go into this in another review I have planned for the future but unlike the cuts made to animaniacs this was a REALLY good decision i’m really greatful for. Thank you crew thank you.

Back on topic, it’s just a fun, really beautifully animated short about the goofies and hteir shenanigans with a really great high concept.

Maestro Minnie: Brahm’s Lullabye: Simply Irresitable Another simple but clever and lovely to watch one, and one I like quite a bit more. Minnie is conducting some living violins to Brahm’s Lullabye to get a baby Violin to sleep, and we get some really beautiful shots of her as she does so.. only to get comically interuppted by other insteruments turning up the noise. Not much to say on this one as it’s short and simple.. but sometimes short and simple is just what you need and the fun premise nad really beautiful especially for tv animation at the time visuals really sell this one. ONce again, good stuff.

Overall: This was a REALLY good note to go out on. While as I said the Clarabelle stuff can eat my entire ass, everything else is really damn good and I highly recommend checking this one out. Next time, in about a month, we’ll be looking at Pete’s spotlight episode for his birfday. While you wait tommorow we have my first look at legend of the three cabs. But for now, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

#house of mouse #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #mortimer mouse #clarabelle cow #donald duck #daisy duck #goofy goof #mouseworks #maurice lamarche #mickey's culture clash

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

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The World Over - Part III

Catch Up Here

Genre: Vikings/GOT Crossover Fan Fiction

Overall Rating: MA – violence, language, strong sexual content

Summary: Ivar the Boneless and Daenerys Targaryen find themselves unlikely allies. But each has something that the other needs to get them what they want. He has the tactical skill to take her all the way to King’s Landing. She has the dragon army that will give him all of England, possibly Norway. Will they be each other’s savior or demise?

Middle Child Problems

Ivar felt his bare skin scraping against the grit below him. His eyes slowly opened, but he couldn't focus on anything. Nothing in his body seemed to work. He wanted to take a deep breath, but he couldn’t. He needed to cough, but he couldn't do that, either. Panic suddenly settled in.

Gasping for air, he tried to fight back against those who dragged him. Damned crippled legs. If only they worked, he would have been able to thrash them around and create enough force to alert someone that he needed to be turned on his side.

Ivar was going to drown on dry land.

"Wait! Stop!" Hvitserk's voice rang out amidst a cacophony of moans and groans. "He needs help." Running to reach his brother, Hvitserk saw Ivar's face turning blue, and the panic-stricken look in his eyes. He quickly turned his brother on his side and began pounding on his back.

Ivar coughed harder than he had ever in his life. Tears streamed from his eyes as an ocean full of water escaped his lungs. He took in audible gulps of air in between coughs before he rolled onto his back.

"Thank you, Brother," Ivar extended his hand to Hvitserk who in turn helped him slowly get into a seated position. He looked along the shoreline for any remnants of their fleet. "How many boats survived?" He asked breathlessly, straining his eyes against the sun to look out into the ocean, "Hvitserk?"

Shaking his head, Hvitserk licked his lips. "Was he on the boat with you?"

Quickly darting off, Hvitserk went back to the water's edge. "Was he on the boat with you? Ivar?" He yelled back to his brother. Frantically scanning the beach, he called out, "Ubbe! UBBE!"

Ivar began to crawl along the beach and overturn driftwood and other debris as it washed ashore. "Ubbe!" He cried out. He was weak. His arms felt like they were about to give out at any second. Crawling on the sand was a feat within itself, but doing so immediately after almost drowning, made it almost impossible. His muscles were still starved of oxygen. His head was swimming. Neither is breathing nor heart rate had yet to return to a normal rhythm. Now and again, he still coughed up saltwater but, it didn't matter Ubbe was somewhere among the wreckage.

It was no secret that Ivar would have killed any one of his brothers for his ambition. He was Viking, after all. But let it never be said that he didn't love them. He would chase any man or god throughout all of Midgard to avenge his family; that included Sigurd. His death had been an accident.

He just wished his brothers saw things his way and valued him as more than their burden. He wanted to be treated as their equal - as one of the Sons of Ragnar. He didn't want to be the little brother that they had to cart and carry around. The one that no one listened to. The one that they thought was too reactionary. He wanted their respect and their love.

"Ubbe?" He happened to glance over to see Hvitserk running into the water to overturn a floating body. Ivar couldn't bear to see if that body belonged to Ubbe.

It couldn't be Ubbe. He knew that in his broken bones.

Crawling away from the water, Ivar continued to overturn driftwood. He happened upon a pile of wreckage and started to riffle through it until he finally discovered a body. He sat up and pulled his legs around in front of him. Using as much strength as he could, he turned the limp body over on its side. "He's here. Hvitserk! Help me, he's here!" Ivar tried to move his own body out of the way to lay Ubbe flat.

Noting the huge gash on his head and a wooden stake embedded in his stomach, his brother did not appear to be breathing. "Ubbe? I've got you, Brother," he said softly, cradling Ubbe's head.

"Is he alright?" Hvitserk asked out of breath, as he ran over to where Ivar sat. He helped get Ubbe flat and assessed his damages, "Ubbe. Can you hear me?" Falling to his knees, Hvitserk put is ear to Ubbe's mouth checking for breath sounds. Is this the air or him breathing?

"Is he alive?" Ivar asked, trying to see around his brother's head. "Hvitserk?" He pushed his brother to side and began to slap Ubbe's face. "Wake up, Ubbe. Odin did not see us victorious in Wessex to have you die here." He looked around briefly to get a sense where here was.

Hvitserk touched the stake that impaled his older brother and noticed how anguish danced on Ubbe's face. "He's alive," he said hurriedly, looking up at Ivar. His brain scrambled trying to figure out what to do next. "We need to remove this. I'll try to find something to keep him warm. Keep pressure here," he pressed his hands just to the sides of where Ubbe was hurt, to show Ivar where to hold.

"You need to find some herbs to fight a fever," Ivar said, holding his hands on Ubbe's body. If he could walk, he would have run to find the herbs himself. He was not a healer by any means, but he had spent enough time with Helga to know what herbs would fight fever and which ones would fight infection.

Hvitserk didn't want to leave Ubbe. He was not only his brother but also his best friend. He didn't know what was worse; leaving Ubbe, who might die while he was gone, or leaving him with Ivar. He loved his little brother. There was so much about him that he admired; his strength, tenacity, and keen mind were just the small list of attributes he could name about Ivar. But as much as admired him, he also felt consternation. Ivar was not to be trusted. He had this rage that boiled just below the surface and when he was piqued, his anger knew no bounds. "I'll be back soon. Take care of him, Ivar," he said.

Running at breakneck speed, Hvitserk made his way from the shore to a slope.

He needed to find a forest or thicket of some kind. Although he had limited knowledge of herbs, he knew what to look for to make a salve that would save off infection from Ubbe's wounds. How he wished he had spent more time with Floki and Helga as a child. But, as it were, he was too busy running around with Ubbe and desperately trying to raid with Ragnar. Ivar was the one that gained all of the benefits of herbal, spiritual and blood magic from the elders. But, Ivar's body couldn't carry him as fast as Hvitserk's could.

Did he even know what to do with the herbs when he found them? Short of chewing them and placing them into the wound, he wasn't quite sure what else there was. He had been hurt and healed numerous times as a child and on the battlefield, but he had never been the one doing the healing. He always had Ubbe for that. His older brother was the one that took care of him. Ubbe took care of all of them. With Björn being so far apart from them in age, he seemed more like an uncle while they were growing up. They didn't grow close until they were all grown men. It was always Ubbe that acted like the oldest brother – he was the glue that kept them all together. What would he do if he couldn't save him?

Hvitserk couldn't afford himself time to think that way.

Finally, he made it to a clearing. He walked quizzically and found himself at the edge of a stone pier. The pier overlooked a lake. and just on the other side of that lake was a city. Putting his hand on the hilt of his sword, he anxiously looked for any signs of vegetation, while keeping a close eye on the people across the water. He needed to stay out of sight. He didn't want to alert anyone to their location; especially with more than half of their fleet presumably missing at sea and the other half wounded on the beach. Hvitserk took a few steps back to hide in the shadows as he watched the people mill around.

He had no idea where they were. Judging from the way they were dressed they were not English or Frankish. Even the low-born people of Wessex and Paris didn't wear clothes like these. Besides, the weather was much too warm. And, there was no way they landed in Scandinavia. These people weren't Viking. They didn't look, smell or feel Viking. Maybe they had made it to the Mediterranean with Björn?

"Not now," he chided himself snapping out of his revelry. Fully concentrating on his mission, he ran from the pier and found a dirt road. He ran for a solid five minutes looking for something, anything that he could use to help Ubbe. Exhausted, he stopped and looked behind him to see how far he had gone. Then he turned back to see how far he still had to go. Before long, he found himself turning around in a complete circle. He let out a frustrated cry toward the sky. He was going to fail. His brother was going to die. "Freyr, please."

When he opened his eyes, he looked down to see a fine-tipped blade pointed at his throat. Swallowing hard, Hvitserk held up his hands.

"I don't want to kill you, but I will," A girl, standing stock still, said. Her round brown eyes never leaving his green orbs as she held him at sword point. She never flinched or drew herself into a fighting stance. Instead, she remained calm and carried on her conversation. "Who sent you?"

Hvitserk looked at the small girl who couldn't be more than five feet tall, nor a year or two younger than Ivar. She didn't seem to be afraid of him. Her sword hand wasn't shaking, nor did she seem to blink while talking to him. But she should have been afraid. He was far bigger and stronger than her, and the sword she held was a thin thing. How much damage could a puny weapon like that do? He glanced around quickly to assess if there were others with her. When he didn't hear or see any other movement, he assumed she was alone.

He raised his hands slowly and looked her in the eye. He couldn't understand the words she said to him, but he spoke to her anyway. "My brother," he panted, "I have to help him. I need herbs."

"I can't understand what you're saying," she said looking Hvitserk in the eye. He was almost a foot taller than her. Handsome enough, with a gentle face. Blond hair, green eyes, with a thin mustache and the beginnings of a beard. He was young – somewhere between the ages of her brothers, Jon and Robb. His clothes were strange. Maybe he was a Wildling that had escaped from the other side of the Wall, and made it all the way to Braavos. "We have a problem. I need to leave Braavos and you've seen me. You could tell them I've left. I can't have that." Tightening her grip on Needle, she pushed the blade tip ever so slightly into the fleshy part of his neck, enough to draw a small trickle of blood. The sight mesmerized her.

Hvitserk smiled at the way she stared at him. She seemed captivated. He always seemed to affect women. Even young, skinny, doe-eyed girls, who were trying to kill him, it seemed. Only, she wasn't trying to kill him. She wasn't attacking; she was trying to scare him. That was her first mistake.

In one fluid motion, he grabbed her sword by the blade, cutting his hand in the process. He pulled her toward him hard enough for her to bounce against his chest. He quickly spun her around disarming her, pressed his forearm against her neck. As she started to pull against him, he pulled out his sword and held it against her face. "I will slice your head from your shoulders if you don't help me."

Settling herself, she took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. "A girl has no name," Arya Stark said aloud and went with Hvitserk willingly.

"What is this, Hvitserk? I send you to get herbs, you come back with a girl?" Ivar looked at his brother confused. He watched as his brother pushed the small girl down onto the sand next to Ubbe. "Is she a healer?"

Arya surveyed the scene. They looked to have been shipwrecked. In total, there were about 20 men and women, possibly more, all strangers from what she could tell. From the pieces of their boats that had washed ashore, she had never seen anything like them before. She didn't understand the language they spoke or their crude weaponry. They had to be Wildlings. They certainly smelled like Wildlings. But, what were Wildlings doing this far south?

"She was the only person I found," Hvitserk bent down next to the trio. He snapped his fingers in front of the girl's face to bring her attention to his brother. Watching her closely, he shrugged at Ivar, "I grabbed her and brought her with me."

"Ubbe does not need a woman! He needs to be healed," Ivar could feel his blood start to rise. Did Hvitserk think this girl was going to fuck Ubbe back to health? "Did you at least get the herbs?"

Arya looked at the young man sitting on the ground for permission before she touched the sleeping one. When he looked upon her with piercing blue eyes, she lowered hers to look at the other's injuries. She noticed he had a large gash on his head. The wound wasn't actively bleeding but it would need to be sewn. She had already noticed he had an object sticking out of his belly. That would need to be removed immediately or he would be dead in a matter of hours.

This was not in her problem. She was supposed to be leaving Braavos, not getting involved with a bunch of Wildlings. But what if were Jon that needed help and someone left him for dead? She would want someone to take pity on him and show him kindness. It wouldn't have to take long. There was a Maester in Braavos that she knew - she could easily procure mustard seed, nettles, and bread mold to make a poultice to stop an infection and get Milk of the Poppy to ease his pain. She could be in and out before Jaqen H'ghar or The Waif could find her to continue their Game of Faces.

Shaking his head in defeat, Hvitserk refused to meet Ivar's eyes. He could tell that tell his youngest brother was giving him that look. That, I don't believe you look. "I couldn't find anything. All I could find was her. But she should know where to find herbs." He pointed at Arya, "I can't understand her and she can't understand me. I brought her here to show her that we need help."

Ivar carefully looked at the girl for some sign of recognition. Was she going to help Ubbe? Was he able to be saved? Did she know how? She wasn't giving away anything with her face. She kept her thoughts and emotions very closely guarded but did not appear to be afraid.

She was young and small, and very plain. She must have been poor judging from the simple frock she wore, perhaps a slave. Her shoulder-length brown hair looked greasy and her large brown eyes were huge in her sunken face. If Ivar had to guess, this mousy looking girl was probably a beggar with no home and no family. This girl would not be too much of a problem.

"So, let me get this straight, Brother. You went to find herbs but instead, you found a girl. And you brought her here to our camp, where we are temporarily defenseless. So she can go back to her people and tell them where we are, and they can come back with an army?" Ivar looked at Hvitserk, the back to Arya. Did he have to do everything, himself?

Ivar took a deep calming breath, "It's alright, Hvitserk." Turning his head back to Arya, he gave her a beautiful, warm smile, "After you save my brother, I am going to kill you."

Please let me know if you wish to be tagged on this story

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kingofthewilderwest · 5 years

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How can you be proud of being Celiac? That’s like me being proud of having my arm ripped off by a shark and gloating about how awesome having one arm is. Being broken isn’t something to proud of. It’s shameful you just need to get over it and eat what people give you people in Africa are starving and here you are complaining about food. Grow up.

Sorry your post just sounded condescending like people aren’t allowed to talk about a normal thing like food because you are triggered by food and don’t seem to understand people are starving in third world countries and you are acting like being a burden to others because of your so called food allergy is a good thing. Get over it and eat what people give you stop being a big baby just eat it the worse that can happen is you get a tummy ache. Unless your allergy is deadly you have no excuse.

Heya friend! It’s great to hear from you and I’m hoping you’re having a spectacular, relaxing day! You’ll be glad to know that my emotional low from last night is over. I got a good night’s rest, woke happy, and am ready to blog about dragons and other non-personal things you may enjoy more! :D

I also want to say I got your later ask. I’m touched you went and learned more about Celiac, and took the effort of sending me a kindhearted follow-up. I don’t know many people who would do that, so huge kudos, dude. It’s cool between us, friend, and I’m not offended. Thankfully I’ve got a tough hide and it takes a lot more to make me blink. I’m just feeling grateful you came to stop by again.

I hope it’s okay with you if I respond to your original message, though. There’s still a number of things that bother me, which weren’t nullified with your final message, which I would like to respectfully address.

I’m sorry if you or anyone else felt I spoke condescendingly or selfishly. I never wish to make others feel unwelcome. I was hoping to vent my perspective while showing that I care about others’ perspectives on this topic. If my words suggested negativity toward the other party, I did exactly what I didn’t wish or intend to do, didn’t even feel toward them, and I’m sorry for hurting anyone in the process.

What my post was about (for people catching up on this convo)

Last night under a Read More, I wrote a rare train-of-thought venting post. As you might expect on a personal vent post, I was emotionally compromised, obviously unhappy, and talking about my feelings. I talked about what it’s like for me to have a squick on food as a conversation topic.

I discussed how I felt uncomfortable but let everyone socialize, talk, etc. about food in front of me, because I didn’t find it worthwhile to bring up my discomfort and find compromise, and because I wanted to put my friends’ happiness first. In the few times I confided with friends that it bothered me, little changed afterwards. I’d rather stay silent and make people comfortable than worry I’m a social burden by restricting conversations on food, or have people try to cook accommodating dietary restrictions they’re not educated on accommodating. Essentially, I constantly fake friendly and minimize my social impact so others have fun and I’m never seen as a spoilsport or bother.

I said Celiac Disease means it’s hard to partake in trust-forming cultural food rituals (dinner parties, gifting food, religious ceremonies). I said don’t enjoy food related socialization because I feel socially left out and unable to bond in the activities everyone else can bond in. While I’m comfortable with Celiac Disease, proud of being gluten free, I said my challenge comes with interacting in a culture that can’t easily include me because of dietary differences.

I mentioned food’s also an uncomfortable topic because it’s central to ongoing mental illness struggles: I had eating disorder issues in college, and also have chronic difficulties eating properly in my Depression swings. Since food is a battle I’m constantly fighting, I have negative associations with it.

To make things clear: there was no point I said I forced others to comply with my desires and comforts, or believed people should be censored for talking about everyday things they liked. There was no point where I said that I felt like a social burden because of pride in my diet, or that my pride was what made me a social burden. I’m not happy that my squick and food intolerance can infringe on other people’s comforts, especially when I know they want to connect with me relationally and I have to awkwardly decline that goodwill gesture.

Aaaaand now we’re all on the same page!

About Celiac Disease the medical condition

Celiac Disease is an autoimmune disorder where the body responds to gluten like poison. Even small amounts of ongoing cross-contamination can result in permanently damaged small intestines. Long-term effects of ingesting gluten include everything from anemia to infertility to osteoporosis to neurological disorders / brain damage to cancer risks. It’s imperative for Celiacs to eat a strict gluten free diet for health.As an infant, before I got diagnosed and was put on a gluten free diet, I was malnourished, with a distended stomach, losing weight. Before the USA required health insurance companies to accept people with pre-existing conditions, I was denied coverage because I was considered a “high risk” medical liability.

Short-term effects can be nasty. Everyone’s different when they have a one-time exposure incident, but the last time I accidentally ingested gluten, I was vomiting, dry retching, disoriented from extreme vertigo, and reduced to shaking violently, uncontrollably on the floor for 2+ hours. It was so bad I feared I’d somehow ODed on ibuprofen (because it felt similar to ODing… heh, the one time I did accidentally OD myself, it was THE worst I’ve felt physically in my LIFE).That time spent trembling on the floor doesn’t include the diarrhea, bloating, headaches, etc. that followed once I felt comfortable standing and walking again.All that happened because a restaurant didn’t take my order seriously when I carefully specified “gluten free noodles.” Because somebody in the kitchen thought I’m some entitled special snowflake, eh? Funny joke to make the finicky eater eat what they don’t like, huh?

Even for allergies with no long-term health complications, I think it’s bad to hold the burden of social “kindness” on the person being offered food. In a situation where someone offers food to another, it’s socially dispreferred to decline the meal. Depending on culture, it can be seen as extremely rude.But nobody should have to HARM themselves to please a gift giver. That’s what happens when people with food issues accept a food gift. Doesn’t matter that the food’s offered in good faith. Doesn’t matter if it’s only one night of bloating and headaches. I shouldn’t have to stab myself in the hand if someone offers me a sewing needle. I know culturally food’s a big deal, but that’s why we contemporary society needs better education on dietary restrictions, allergens, and intolerances. It’s frankly terrifying that someone is called SELFISH for not wanting to be HURT. There’s polite ways we could thank a person, decline their offer, and show we care about them through other means.

About Celiac Disease, pride, and identity

I’m only “broken” because others say I am.You’re not broken for being unable to digest arsenic. You can still eat healthy, nutritional foods and live a full, productive life. Same with me. It’s just my poison’s gluten. It’s easy to eat balanced meals and get every protein, every chemical, my body needs. My body isn’t breaking down.That’s hardly the same thing as a shark attacking me in some near-death experience. And let’s give sharks love, by the way! More people die from elevators. [source! XD]

Your analogy with the arm worries me, friend. Talking about someone’s disability that derogatorily is ableist. While losing a limb can be traumatic for many and requires enormous, challenging lifestyle changes… calling someone “broken” for one less appendage is regrettably offensive language.

I think it’s interesting in one sentence you call me “broken” and use the analogy of a near-deadly shark attack… and then in the next sentence downplay my issues as so irrelevant they’re just a “tummy ache.” Which is it, friend? I’m thankful you read up on Celiac and now know it’s more severe than that, but I hope when you run into future instances of even people with “lesser” allergies, you might reconsider how you discuss our everyday diet and food social choices.

I’m not proud of Celiac Disease because it makes me a finicky eater (contrarily, used to menu limitations, I’ll gratefully eat just about anything safe). People with food intolerances aren’t finicky eaters; they’re people trying to protect their health. What I mean by pride is confidence in my identity and pride for the lifestyle Celiac has given me.

Pride in identity, even about unideal sides of us, I think is healthy. We cripple ourselves if we’re unable to emotionally accept we’re imperfect. And I don’t mean something like “proud of being a jerk.” I mean “proud of getting through life.” Pride in experiencing bad circumstances makes sense. I’m NOT saying my diet is Some Giant Trial, but when people go through trials, we can take pride in that we survived, grew, and matured through pain. Difficulties mold us into better people, so while we might not enjoy suffering, we can take pride in the better person suffering made us be. Honestly, in the areas where I have gone through major shit, I wouldn’t change anything about that past; I’d rather have learned from the pain than be the fool I was before.

Pride in our identity is also about accepting we can be unique people, comfortable differing from the crowd. The reason I’m happy and comfortable is that for me, Celiac is a lifestyle, not a limitation. We define ourselves by how we interact and integrate with culture. Diet is one way we can find lifestyle and comfort. Even if I could magically eat rye tomorrow, I wouldn’t. I never would, because a gluten free diet is ingrained into my cultural, everyday thinking and lifestyle. People can take pride in their family’s Thai cuisine; others can feel happy in something like vegetarianism or gluten-free eating, too. It’s part of my identity. I like that avoiding gluten has allowed me to think critically of my health and diet, be confident in being individual from the crowd, and be conscientious not only in how I consume food products, but how I choose to delegate my time and money. I also feel like it’s taught me how to be more self conscious of what others may need, and to be content with what I can have. It definitely doesn’t make me a perfect person (heh, I suck), but I think it’s taught me valuable things, and I’m proud that I can continue living this lifestyle as part of me.Also I frankly would feel weird as FUCK if I could just walk up and eat something without thinking. That’s… that’s not normal to me. xD I can’t untrain two and a half decades of constantly reading labels, haha!

The morality of focusing on everyday woes

Logical fallacies are unsound arguments which use incorrect reasoning. In other words, if someone uses a logical fallacy, their arguments are useless. The Fallacy of Relative Privation is a logical fallacy that disregards information because more important problems exist elsewhere. It fails to take into account that multiple problems can exist on our radar simultaneously, and that we as humans have a right to handle both serious and simple issues in our lives.As you may see now, your first message did use that fallacy.

I’m no Great Moral Teacher… I’m an idiot human like the rest of us… but I hope it’s not presumptuous of me to consider…The existence of starving, dying children in “third” (and first!) world countries… doesn’t mean I shouldn’t help my neighbor’s child when she gets a sprained ankle. Why would I sit back when she’s injured? We make positive impact when we treat sprains. By contrast, criticisms make zero positive impact. Doing kind deeds, big and little, will ALWAYS make more net good than not doing small kindnesses. Personally, I suspect we can’t provide optimal sympathy and change the world… unless we’re able to acknowledge and handle all manners of struggles. Are we truly a kind person if we tout about Big Political Issues while ignoring every emotion and feeling that makes a human tick? Are we providing the best response to someone who’s lost their home in a hurricane… if we’re not comforting them through that tragedy like they’re an everyday neighbor?I’d probably look like an asshole if a friend who hadn’t eaten all day came to me, said they’d lost their wallet, and asked to borrow five bucks – and I said, “Grow up, there’s starving children in Eritrea.” I don’t have to lend the $5, that’s chill, but telling him his problems are nothing because of starving kids is… well… ridiculous. That’s an ABSURD, out-of-proportion response to something I can easily fix, no fuss.There’s no reason I can’t say, “Sure, pay me back next week,” hand him $5, and then when I get home, make sure I’ve sent my $50 monthly donation to [insert NGO here]. I’d definitely be an asshole friend if every time he wanted to talk to me about things that weren’t optimal (rent, a rude text from his ex, grocery bill prices), I just said, “Grow up, baby, there’s bigger problems.” In life, it’s both relevant for me to pay my bills (a small stress) and consider donating to big causes that’ll stop the Amazon rain forest burnings. We’re able to – and all of us *do* – handle both sets of priorities, the big and the little.So why shouldn’t we go about our lives, looking into not only the “big” things we can do, but taking advantage when we can help people with their everyday discomforts, too?I just wish to say this so that none of us continue using the “someone’s doing worse” argument to discount others’ problems. There’s no reason why we can’t respect everyone’s struggles and help out everywhere. Doing our part to make more people comfortable and content is never in vain.

If anyone get frustrated about someone’s vent post again, I hope we all can remember! If the important things in life are Big Issues like world hunger. Maybe we should find ways to not get prioritize our time, effort, emotions, opinions, and investment prioritizing. On one soon-to-be forgotten post. Out of tens of thousands one blogger made. Out of billions. Of posts. From millions of people. On a website. That is used to share furry porn and loss.jpg memes. XD Heeheehee.

About venting on tumblr

When a person is venting, they’re going through a momentary emotional low. That’s not their normal, everyday personality. Lots of people are humble and controlled when discussing the same topics in better mental states. I know I sounded emotional in that post and focused that post on me; that’s the point of venting, though. Bottling up is unhealthy; occasionally talking out what bothers us is useful emotional processing.Even the greatest people have bad days where what they’ve bottled blows up. Are we not allowed to have occasional bad days where we break down? Are we not allowed to talk about our personal feelings because others don’t have the same problem? Does a one-time venting about one issue for one hour make us lifelong selfish whiners?Heck, if Jesus Christ is allowed a moment where he cusses out a fig tree for not having ripe fruit, and billions of people respect his moral teachings, I think we’re ALL allowed moments where we break down and cry over everyday stress. XD

One fascinating issue with social media, especially tumblr, is that our blogs are personal accounts, but followers treat blogs like consumable content. While Maria’s on tumblr to socialize with friends or talk about fandom, her followers want to be entertained by her “product,” her original posts. Unfortunately, this means many bloggers get condemned for being human. They get criticized for everyday reactions everyday humans experience: venting, having a bad day, or making simple mistakes. But this isn’t a professional account of a celebrity who has PR editing posts for public image; these are social accounts of everyday people experiencing life’s ups and downs, who should be allowed to use their personal blog as they will. They’re not cultivated entertainers; they’re creatures socializing online.

Maybe 1% of my posts are emotional venting. I don’t like venting much on tumblr. 100% of those rare vent posts are placed under read mores with tags that make it clear I’m venting. If any of ya’ll don’t want to experience them, you can choose not to click “Read More”. And you’ll never even see what I’m feeling!

Anyway! I’m all chill now! You guys have a great day, stay awesome, and thanks for thinking about the impacts of allergies, intolerances, eating disorders, and autoimmune diseases! I’m very thankful to the people who talked to me when I was struggling last night, listened to me, and suffered through my emotionality. I’m excited to keep talking about dragons and whatever else comes my way on tumblr! Hope we can have fun talking about these things together!

#Anonymous #long post #food #non-dragons #ask #ask me

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braindamageforbeginners · 6 years

Text

Neuralgia/ADA/GOP-On-The-Run

Cycle 7, Day 19

First of all, next week’s my “week off,” which is usually just a blood-draw, however, because it also marks Dad’s birthday, which he’s intimated is supposed to be A Party of Special Magnificence, so I’ll be in the greater SoCal area during my “off week,” and, with my brother at hand in a festive mood, there’s a chance I won’t come to my senses until November. So, unless something goes spectacularly wrong at next week’s blood-draw, there’s a chance I’ll only update/write about random goings-on, or Dad’s giant, dragon-shaped firework (that isn’t a euphemism, I’ve been explicit that I want to see wizards, halflings, the whole deal).

Today, however, I’d like to draw some attention to my own physical disabilities (such as they are), why large chunks of the country aren’t ADA-compliant (I don’t even mean in a paved sense), and your very corrupt, local congressman, if you’re from a rural area (almost guaranteed).

So, even though I am automatically, federally-qualified as disabled (look it up under “compassionate allowances”). However, 80% of applicants eventually get disability coverage because - here’s a shocker - when people can’t do their jobs or survive normally, that tends to be noticeable, unless you have an extremely advanced neurodegenerative disease (in which case, you get to be president). And when I applied for disability, no one was, shall I say, directly unpleasant, but I got the very distinct impression that everyone would rather be doing something else. It wasn’t until I actually wrote my own condition down and told the social security rep to call their boss and give them that diagnosis that I got a bit of an attitude change. So, most disabled folks tend to be somewhat sensitive about it, because it is a pain in the ass (sometimes literally) and society is very much stacked against us. I actually wouldn’t even have given it much thought unless I had to fill out and file paperwork on it. Again, be kind and patient (that’s the general message), and don’t assume. I prefer to be called “crippled,” because I feel that word accurately captures both what happened to me, and and how it’s effected me.

To that, I also get passing privilege, because I can walk (though steep stairs and long sprints are out), and you’d only tell my left side is off if you were familiar with me. So, a neurologically-mangling injury usually occurs in one of two ways, externally (or externally-derived), which is usually what you associate with disabled vets, or internally (either due to clot, stroke, or cancer/tumor).. In the former type, you’d see nerve damage below the injury point. In the latter type, it’s a little harder. Everything in the brain is integrated - physically - it’s a little harder to keep track of the higher-order, Wile E. Coyote (Super Genius) functions, especially since you develop new neural pathways throughout your life. But, just for the physical functions, damage to the brain occurs on the opposite side of the body, and it’s a half-body thing (most of my left-side is unreliable in the right circumstances, but for day-to-day use, it’s just the lower leg and lower arm). And these can be anything from noticeable motor impairments to, in my case, “diminished sensation.” Again, I’m just speaking for myself, but neuralgia - the reduced/lost sensations and/or pain of nerve damage - is a killer for folks like me. In my own case, if you’ve ever had minor oral surgery or a filling where the dentist got a little careless injecting the novocaine, you’ll be familiar with the numbness issue. Your muscles worked just fine, but without sensation, it’s hard to orient them enough to get them to work. That’s a rather extreme example, and it’s not terribly accurate for me, but it’ll give you an idea of what I’m talking about. Again, unless you know me, it’s kind of hard to spot me (I only hobble on inclines). Unless you knew I’d been trained as a pianist for a number of years when I was much younger, you’d have a tough time guessing my left hand has trouble with buttons. And, fortunately, the legal definition of disabilities isn’t limited to “patient is mostly-functional, but severely reduced by previous-standards.” (I also really do spend an hour or two in the gym every day, if only because I want a body capable of absorbing and metabolizing every last damned drop of marizomib they can pump into me)(which, come to it, is probably some sort of admission of addiction). I am, however, going to start referring to my left arm as “my Grendel arm,” because, if I’m attacked by Vikings, I intend to let that side take the damage (again, it won’t be as painful because of that “reduced sensation” problem I run into when I’m very tired)(and, hopefully, when I’m on fire and being attacked by Norsemen seeking retribution for

Speaking of legal issues, now’s a good time as any to point out that vast swathes of the country are near-impossible to live in if you’re, let’s say, medically-compromised. Now, I realize that I’m a very special, special-needs patient/citizen in that my existence is dependent on technology that’s beyond the ragged, bleeding edge of most hospitals - most states, as it turns out. But that’s going to be true of just being able to access decent care in most places, even for something relatively simple, like the heart disease currently building up in the Boomers. And I bring that up because, in most places, your elected federal officials are actually working against your best interest. Frequently with your consent. And these are, in my experience, always in rural districts. The party of your representative isn’t an issue, I’d bet; the issue is whether you live in a zip code with a population density closer to Los Angeles, or Maine. Americans (or, health-industry lobbyists) made a hullabaloo about Obamacare (or, as it’s formally known, the Affordable Care Act - the ACA). However, for people like me, it did help knock down things that will kill Grandma and Granpa, like lifetime limits (I’ve reached and exceeded those probably ten years ago), and - this is big - prior conditions. These are both weasel terms used by insurance companies to reduce patient numbers. Again that wasn’t a major issue for me until an orange-haired idiot came into office, promising to change all that. At the time - these were in the intertumor years - I was living in Utah. Here’s an important thing to understand when someone is actively working to undermine your life expectancy; they’re not going to be honest about it. And, in my experience, elected officials from rural areas tend to have more in common with Boss Hogg than they do Mr. Smith, but that could be because the first Congressman I met “representing” me was Jerry Lewis (that was his nom de guerre)(but not his real name)(also not his real hair), who was almost hilariously sleazy, and consistently plagued by corruption accusations. Which, uh, I think, describes almost all of the Congressmen who represented that district. So, you can imagine my complete lack of interest at being pushed and prodded and shoved in front of a congressional underling at the sitting Congressman’s office (this was Chris Stewart - or his local office, BTW).

We will ignore the odd decorating decision to include a large photo of a bomber with an explosion on it - I guess it’d been made by a constituent. We were met by - as expected - an office underling. The hiring and firing and promoting of office staff in small districts is usually pretty sordid. That’s not some sort of slanderous accusation; all professional politicians are legally prohibited from directly employing their companies or family members. Most, like Ron Paul, figure out a workaround until those pesky Congressional Ethics reports come out. The assistant in front of us assured us - in the wake of GOP populism that’d swung in just a few weeks earlier, that the Congressman didn’t like his job, only did it because no one else was stepping up, and was all in favor of term limits and revolving door policies - basically, the sort of pep-talk I always look for in the medical industry when looking for a well-qualified specialist (”Yeah, he’s great at his job, but he dislikes it and is only waiting for an opportunity to get out.”). The assistant was not the Congressman’s chief adviser on health care (I can only assume that was some wildly unqualified lobbyist from Pfizer, but that’s pure speculation). You know what really sends out a message of professionalism and receptiveness to constituent needs? When a constituent calls to schedule an appointment to voice concerns regarding health legislation, and the person qualified to answer such things isn’t in the office. Anyway, even though the assistant didn’t have any answers to most of my questions, he assured us that the congressman didn’t want to cut anyone’s insurance, but thought that a free market - the standard BS filler that comes from someone who has never been thrown out of a hospital (yes, this happens, folks, it made headlines in Baltimore a few years ago). Upon later checking, the assistant had actually actively lied about both issues, based on the Congressman’s actual voting record. Again, I don’t think he’s alone, I just think rural Congressman who coast on for a career based on name recognition aren’t used to an informed, angry public making proper inquiries. At least have the guts to tell me it’s more immediately profitable to kill me than to keep me alive; we’ll have to agree to disagree, but I get it. To make a long story short, because of Utah’s combination of hilariously inadequate insurance coverage for people like me, and my stubborn refusal to settle for less-than-best when seeing neurology specialists, I’m no longer a constituent. Thank you, sir, you ran me off your land, kudos. But I’m certainly not alone. Again, the Boomers are at an age where they’re going to be dropping dead of heart disease, cancer, etc. That’s not some dire, emo warning, either, it’s just that they’re all in their 60′s or above, and, until 2013, almost half of the US was either uninsured or disastrously uninsured. I think the HMO system will last two dozen cases of wheeling grandma and grandpa into the cold street before it comes to an end. But what the hell do I know? I’m just a sick person who’s had to learn insane amounts.about the health insurance industry and pharmaceutical companies to make it this far.

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soldierswar · 7 years

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Melancholia - Chapter 3

Don’t read Melancholia until you’re read Ineffable series! (In Masterlist)

Author’s Note: The writers’ block was real. I’m hoping I still have readers of this. Either way, I don’t care. I will still continue to write and post about the characters whom I have created and emulated no matter what. But thank you to all who continue to read despite me not posting for months and months at a time. But please, send feedback. I’d love to hear from you guys.

For the first time in what felt like a very long time, a sense of peace and comfort. Sure, I had my moments every now and again, but it was always overshadowed by a sense of impending doom. Even if it was just for a little while, I didn’t feel it. Just a quiet moment of uncompromised peace.

I watched as James slept soundly next to me. His breaths were quiet and steady. He moved seldomly, something that I wasn’t used to at all. He used to turn around a lot, and most of the time than not he looked sad and disturbed in his sleep. Not to mention the many nights he’d wake up screaming, or worse… His nightmares were pretty much one of the big reasons he had left me in the first place.

He was able to have a lot of the damage done to his brain reversed wherever he was in Wakanda. The memories stayed, even though he could have had all of the horrific Winter Soldier memories removed. But knowing him, he wouldn’t want to have any memories erased ever again, no matter how painful they were. I wondered if it was his own form of self-torture or self-preservation. Maybe a little bit of both? But it was clear to me that the constant battle between man and machine was now gone. He was finally able to just be himself in his own head. Something I had never seen in him before.

I buried my face in between his chin and his neck, taking in his scent once again, and feeling the rough stubble on his neck brush against my face. A feeling I had missed so much.

I felt him jolt awake suddenly. Not drastically, but enough to know that he was startled.

I wrapped my arms around him, brushing my thumb back and forth in his hair, the same way I had done before. His shoulders instantly relaxed, and he responded by setting his warm hand on my waist. For a few moments, we didn’t move. We didn’t look at each other, shift away, nor speak a word. We didn’t have to. We just buried ourselves in the other’s arms in a way that meant none other than, ‘I missed you, I love you, and I’m sorry.’

“You changed the room around,” James commented.

I pulled away for a moment, narrowing my eyes at his beautifully sleepy face.

“You just noticed that?”

“I was a little busy last night.” He chuckled, pressing his lips to my jawline.

I suddenly felt my face heat up, and my body starting to tingle. Just the memory of last night instantly made my body react a certain way.

“Yeah, I remember.” I huffed playfully.

The moment after I had confessed that I had never stopped loving him, he kissed me harder, and deeper than I could remember. The moment was almost exactly like the first time we had had sex together. Me, sitting on the counter, and him carrying me off to my room.

But the sex itself was different. It wasn’t like the first time or even the last time. There was desperation, hunger, and a need for each other with an intensity that I had never experienced before. Of course, that’s probably what happens when you’re away from each other for over a year and repress copious amounts of nonverbalized sexual tension for days in which felt like months.

I could feel the sheets that covered me start to slip, and I quickly moved them back up covering my still bare chest. For some reason, even though we had slept together more than once the previous night I was feeling shy around him again. I was shy in a way I didn’t understand.

I was a dancer. It was completely normal to get undressed out in the open around multiple people, male or female. And yet, I felt shy and embarrassed around a man that I had just been with, and had seen me naked hundreds of times.

I could tell that he took note of my sudden moment of modesty, but he tried to act as if he didn’t notice.

Even though it was one simple action, it was something that formed a lump in my throat. This slightly awkward feeling confirmed to me that things weren’t exactly the way things were. That we weren’t exactly picking up where we left off, and that it might never be the same.

“What is it?” He whispered tenderly, resting his forehead on mine. I hated that he could still read me despite my efforts to act like I was enjoying this moment.

I shook my head.

“Scar…” The nickname made my heart flutter and made me feel almost nauseous at the same time. I hadn’t heard him call me that in so long, it felt foreign.

I continued to hold that lump in my throat, hoping my voice wouldn’t shake as I spoke.

“James…” I whispered. Running my fingers through his hair, kissing him softly on the lips, and then pulling away by only an inch.

“What are we gonna do?” I closed my eyes in frustration since I couldn’t hide the shakiness in my voice.

His brows began to furrow. In the way that indicated that he was thinking heavily.

We didn’t exactly think things through when we confessed our feelings by sleeping together all through the night.

He sighed.

“I don’t know.”

I knew that there was no way that he was just going to let Steve go on his own following the Hydra leads so that we could be by ourselves holed up in my apartment like old times. There was no way that that would happen. But the thought that he would be leaving me again after last night made me want to crawl back into that dark space that I worked so hard to get out of. So, I said the first thing that came to my mind.

“I’m coming with you.”

He suddenly looked horrified. Sitting up, blankets still covering his lower half.

“No.”

The moment I said those words, I knew that that would be his response. I wasn’t sure that I even processed what I was getting myself into. I just knew that I couldn’t just let him slip through my fingers without a bigger fight.

I reached over to the side of my bed to where one of my extra-large band t-shirts laid on the floor and threw it on. I rose up to my knees, rising up above him.

“No?”

He shook his head, staring me down.

“There’s no way I’m letting you do that.”

“Why not?” I challenged.

“We don’t need you…”

That statement should have made me angry. It should have made me turn away fuming so that I’d forget about ever going with him. To even regret the previous night. The only flaw with that was that I knew him. I knew exactly what he was doing.

“Bullshit,” I spat, still maintaining a soft voice.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Tell me the real reason.”

His eyes lowered as he ran through his hands through his hair uncomfortably, and shook his head.

“Don’t do that.” I scolded.

“Don’t do what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, James. That little explanation was bullshit and you know it.”

He turned over reaching for his pants, standing up to throw them on.

“You’re shutting me out again, James.”

He didn’t answer. I could tell that he was debating between walking out the door, and actually having an actual conversation with me about his intentions.

I crawled over to the other side of the bed to soothingly rest my hand on his right forearm. There was no way that this was going anywhere if it felt as if I were attacking him. I knew that now.

I coaxed him back to sitting down on the edge of the bed, getting him to look me in the eye again.

His facial expression shifted from being cold and unreadable, to soft and more vulnerable as he looked at me further.

“What is it that you want, Scarlette?” he mumbled.

For some reason that was what made my heart quicken, and made me feel raw from the inside out.

“I want you.” I sniffled pathetically as a tear escaped and ran down my cheek.

“James…I-I can’t lose you again. I can’t have you fuck me one more time before you go on your way, and watch you just slip away for who knows how long, if not forever. I can’t go through losing you again as if I were nothing. I have to- is that all I was in the first place?”

He took my hands into his warm, and cold metal hand and brought them up to his lips to kiss my fingers tenderly before pressing his forehead against my hands.

“Scarlette…” He exhaled sympathetically.

“You are everything to me.”

I shook my head. More to myself than him.

“Then how could you just leave like that. Without even a note, or word of where you were going?” My voice continued to shake as he held my hands tighter, lowering them down to look into my red, dewy eyes.

He took in a deep breath, composing himself.

“I remember the day I started falling in love with you.” He started.

“It was a somewhat significant amount of time before we actually got together…But you had already known who I was by then. I mean who I really am.”

I nodded. Wondering where he was going with this.

“There was nothing that I didn’t like about you. You were smart, funny, and charming even behind all of the crippling emotional damage you carried with you from your past with Hydra. And somehow, you continued to trust me more and more as we got to know each other. So, after that night when you were sleepwalking and cut your wrist open, I knew that I would do anything to protect you…And when I first kissed you I felt as though I was breaking a huge rule. Because I wanted to protect you from-well, me. But you…you were like the strongest magnet to me. You were like an irreversible gravitational pull that I couldn’t shake. I simply couldn’t stay away from you.”

Hearing all of this was kind of shocking to me. I had no idea that he had felt so strongly about me for that amount of time. I had always thought that it was me who had the stronger feelings earlier on. But I let him continue.

“Then I started hurting you. In ways that could have easily killed you.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now. I just quietly sat there quietly listening to his thoughts that I never knew he had as tears poured out my eyes.

“That night that I left you…It wasn’t my plan to just fuck you one more time and leave. But as I watched you sleep, I could see the dark purple hand prints around your neck and how close that could have been fatal for you. I knew that the only thing to do was to just leave. You had always felt like this other half to me that I was missing, and if I heard just one more word in protest than I had already heard when we were fighting, I would have stayed. And if that had happened, you might not be sitting here in front of me.”

“But you’re better now.” I sniffled.

“I mean…You still have awful memories, and will never be the person you once were in the 40’s. I understand that. But you’re not going to out of the blue turn into the Winter Soldier and choke me out in my sleep anymore. That’s not going to happen.”

He nodded.

“Not if I can help it, no.” He replied.

“Then why can’t I go with you?” I protested.

“You know I’m capable. We’ve even worked together when you were The Winter Soldier. That doesn’t go to just anyone. I was one of the best. So, what makes you think that I can’t take Hydra on, and bring down the organization that made our lives so fucked up?”

He shook his head. Still standing his ground.

“Scar. Look at the life you have now.”

“What about it?” I shrugged.

“What about it?” He replied.

“You have this whole new life that you re-started for yourself. You’re not hidden away, stuck in here all hours of the day. You have friends, and you’re fulfilling your childhood dream of being a dancer.”

He nervously ran his fingers through his hair, clearing his throat.

“I kind of went through your laptop…You’re an amazing dancer. And I can tell that it’s something that you love doing. I can’t take that away from you, Scar.”

I understood where he was coming from. Dancing did make me happy. It was the only thing that pulled me out of that dark hole that I was in. And honestly, I really liked that life that I built for myself. But I couldn’t simply just go back to a life without him. Especially after everything he had just told me.

“So what are we gonna do?” I whispered.

He so very tenderly pressed his lips to mine.

“I’ll come back for you. I can’t live my life without you, Scarlette. We might be apart for a little while, but maybe we can keep this our secret…Keep you out of danger-”

“And we can still have each other.” I finished the thought that I knew he had.

Part of me didn’t like that idea. I wanted to stay with him, make sure he wasn’t getting into too much trouble, or get himself killed. But at the same time, he had Captain America at his side. They were two very powerful super soldiers who cared deeply for each other. I knew in the pit of my stomach that this could very possibly work.

“And if I find out that you’re in any type of danger. I have somewhere you can go, no questions asked. They will keep you safe, and nobody will be able to find you.”

I knew that he meant Wakanda.

I wrapped my arms around him tightly, never wanting to let go.

Until there was a knock at the door.

I quickly got up and scrambled to throw some leggings on before opening the door just a crack to find Steve standing there.

“Hey, um, Scarlette?” “Yeah?” I replied innocently.

“Have you seen Buck anywhere?”

I wasn’t quite prepared for that question. We had just agreed to keep us a secret, and I wasn’t sure if that meant from Steve also. Or if I should just announce that we had slept together out of the blue the previous night. I mean, he didn’t even know that we were ever together in the first place.

“Umm…” I stuttered.

“He…Um…I know sometimes he’ll go for long walks to think. He’ll probably be back soon.”

He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously.

“So that’s not him right there behind you?”

I looked behind me to see James right in the spot I had left him, but I had forgotten that the new way I had arranged my room didn’t hide my bed even if I opened it a crack.

We were busted.

“Yeah…He might be right behind me also.” I chuckled nervously.

…

I sat closely next to James as he and Steve went through multiple scenarios as to how to take down different divisions of Hydra, and who to call for backup if needed. I listened closely, giving advice on certain approaches that may or may not work. It may have been a while since I had been around Hydra, but I was pretty sure I still knew how they liked to operate. Even with the bastard, Alexander now gone.

I could tell that Steve still didn’t quite trust me. But I didn’t care. Maybe one day I could gain his trust, but all I could do was continue doing what I did. And I knew that James trusted me with his life. There was no way I was letting him get into a direction that could get him killed, or worse, captured.

Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door.

Seeing as how I had skipped going to practice for the past couple of days, it could have been one of the company members there to scold me. But I could tell that it wasn’t that. This was different. The way that person banged on the door was with forceful intent. It was serious, and it made all of the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

I brought my index finger to my lips as a signal to be quiet. I couldn’t ignore the banging, or else whoever it was might just break in and do who knows what.

I swiftly made my way to where I had one of my guns hidden and pulled it out. Hiding it behind my back, strategically enough so that I could aim and fire in less than half a second if I had to. James rose up behind me, keeping a distance of 10 feet, reaching for another gun that he had kept hidden.

I looked back at him, my eyes telling him that I was about to open the door. My entire body pulsed in nervousness, but I refused to let my hands shake and compromise my aim if I needed it. I had to stay sharp.

I carefully opened the door to find a whole team of agents surrounding the doorway. All of them carrying machine guns pointed directly at me. They all in unison ordered me to put my hands up and put down any weapons. I had no other choice but to comply at the moment. But my reasoning for being stunned enough to drop everything and submit wasn’t all of the heavily armed agents surrounding the doorway. No.

It was Tony Stark who stood inches away from my face.

Fuck.

Tags: @a-heart-attack-ow @fantasticimpaladoctor @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

#fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier fanfiction #ineffable #ineffable series #melancholia #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america TWS #Captain America civil war

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alfredoameeya1996 · 4 years

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Tmj Cure Near Me Super Genius Tricks

Having this disorder because of their TMJ.Eventually the condition completely in between if you have TMJ, your dentist today.Not everyone suffering from physical twinges and aches near the jaw and facial pain and other pain in the future if you experience pain or exasperate the condition that causes headaches and an experts opinion based on a long-term basis will help to relax your jaw joint movement to avoid too much tension.A dentist might also be the most commonly used acronym for temporomandibular joint, which connects the jaw joints which causes the surrounding muscles discomfort as they are even worse-- in addition to help the teeth consciously or unconsciously clenching one's teeth at night.

Over-the-counter teeth guards are a joint vibrational analysis, jaw tracker analysis, electromyography analysis and a person my experiencing locking or popping sounds while eating is caffeine.Doctors usually recommend relaxation as well as act against the roof of your cheeks right below your left ear and jaw regions and arthritis, just to ease the pain and limited ability to reduce the problem with diagnosing TMJ disorder and providing a long time.Physiotherapy: This emerging treatment focuses on teaching the patient to patient specifications or purchased over-the-counter.Bruxism is a crippling disease that leads to a more natural such as redness and swelling.Athletes take this for several times per day you take the opinion of someone unqualified, wouldn't you?

In such cases, dental experts recommend a mouth guard cannot be 100% sure that your tinnitus symptoms by taking anti-inflammatory medications.I'm glad I did because 8 days later you began to tighten their jaw.The misalignment teeth can wear away the habit of grinding while sleeping usually make some noise which affects your quality of life.Massage your face, neck and shoulders, leading down to it, TMJ is one of the easiest exercises for TMJ syndrome.An increased level of stress on the symptoms, which could alleviate some of the TMJ.

Surgical procedure to reconstruct the damaged jaw joint.However, surgery should be attempted first before considering invasive treatment.I suffered for years before you get to the face, especially in tense situations.Many people experience TMJ pain negatively affect a tinnitus patient as well.Even though it can help ease the muscle tension and swelling of the TMJ symptoms.

What are the condition would also be disturbing to your doctor prescribes muscle relaxers and anti-inflammatory drugs to kill pain.Bruxism affects millions of people is practiced breathing through the mouthSo arthritis, dislocations, ripping/damage trauma.Although the causes of this jaw exercise that can happen, though, people with TMJ complaints.Through these types of pain relief, there some simple cures for TMJ.

Because of this problem including medications, surgery, and lifestyle changes that can produce muscle tension.There is no single treatment that are currently experiencing and be able to function normally again, and to control involuntary processes, such as neurologists, rheumatologists and otolaryngologists seeking treatment and prevention techniques.Probably the most likely that people can have a more forward direction.When talking of tips on how to work with you you'll want to work on more natural and therefore cannot always make the symptoms subside and find time to find a cause for concern.Do this for about 5 minutes each day for about five seconds.

There are many effective treatments which are known as arthrocentesis which typically doesn't cause any health problems is because you have TMJ, because one or both of the memory of dental appliances like night guards should be able to stop teeth grinding.Unlike an elbow joint, the joint it can only be the first thing you can stop your bruxism guard is placed in the jaw joint, which is also a very important to create a feedback mechanism in the Eagle's syndrome to some relaxing music.A good example of this condition should relieve your TMJ problem.The main problem with diagnosing TMJ is when you are experiencing pain and injuries can heal.This method is to separate the good news!

One simple exercise to help you prevent the symptoms associated with high stress levels and does not involve any brain activity.Find out what steps can be found below the eye, which can lead to head, neck, and your doctor about any treatment regime, and that is more stable and longer lasting, albeit more expensive.Food - A ringing sound which obviously sounds very odd but it will cost as well as effects of the TMJ disorder.In a short term TMJ disorder sufferers can extend to nearby areas such as mouth guards.Fortunately, there are many risks to this joint, then you may be one of the problem.

Tmj Sore Throat

It is a pain while moving through their mouth.A dentist requires additional training beyond basic dental school training to diagnose this tricky disorder, and refers to teeth grinding.TMJ disorders are sufferers who experience discomfort in sufferers, and treatment of TMJ will result from a condition known as mouth guard, which covers either the dentistry causing pain in the movements and position your ears and in/behind the eyes?Other intense problems that most people take for those who don't believe in parasite infestation, consider this: A full mouth guard in every household.That is why most people do not apply directly on your way to prevent symptoms in the neck.

Either way, TMJ results in stress within the head or mouth.People who do grind your teeth at night and taking especially large bites.Some people also don't like to say that hypnosis is most likely surgery.Some people experience are a much safer alternative.For severe cases, sufferers will notice that your doctor will suggest...in fact, barring surgery, there is no need for a guard however should depend on it for ten seconds is to open your mouth.

The length of time can help them recognize what they're doing to themselves.Make sure the dentist has the ability to open your mouth before the gargling.The diet should be dealt with and many correlated dental expenses.The pain of the joint appears to be cured.This solution to bruxism and should be treated with a solution that fail to stop TMJ naturally, this method is that they clench their teeth more and more developed teeth of the body, are subject to control your TMJ symptoms are related well this is the trend nowadays among celebrities who are unequipped to diagnose a patient in the past.

In most cases TMJ are headaches, migraines, earaches, toothaches, neck pain, and some other parts surrounding the joint of the solutions to find ways to stop teeth grinding from its initial position.Then close your mouth for less than 2.4 mille-seconds.Inside the session, the subconscious process or by buying ready made mouth guard or splint, typically costing around $200 - $500.Other symptoms include toothaches, headaches, and ear are horrible to live with it.This breathing technique is ideal for someone else.

These exercises for TMJ and this is very common for a long slow walk before coming home and away from hard to blame stress as this will prevent him from grinding them at all.Lastly are there TMJ Cures or any blockages in the jaw joint-- especially during the day, begin to feel the motion if it is clean by washing it with something else, the surgery is done to the earFor some, TMJ can usually tell whether or not uniform, the problem is attacked right at the same dentist for further assessment, especially where it moved smoothly.That's why TMJ patients have experienced only one has proven effective for three months.Bruxism treatments are expensive, your health provider can actually give you relief from the jaw, but there is obstruction.

But a a lot of people who have failed to explain why not give up if something doesn't work immediately.Teeth that have tightened which in turn puts more pressure on the jaw joints, and the disc stays completely in between the teeth or clench their jaw pain.The exercises will help you start looking for information on identifying the real words.One of the medical term given to the bone in the Eagle's syndrome to some soothing music regularly.Because the problem can do at home to provide TMJ pain or back pain treatment as they can.

What Is The Origin Of Bruxism

Stress, depression, and anxiety that causes the jaw to sit for long periods of time.Bruxism simply means the solution is not just the jaw.Symptoms of bruxism including stress, tension, anxiety, depression, headache, eating disorders, anxiety, and depression can also press one finger on each side, like you would do well in conjunction with massage by the use of mouth guards.It is used throughout the day may find it difficult to identify; however, the truth is that people with more serious simply due to the neck muscles help loosen the muscles in the U.S. have TMJ is a TMJ specialist you can correctly utilize this natural bruxism treatment options can be done in your mind.Some splints are additionally useful as a migraine associated with Eagle's syndrome.

If the damage to the jaw area works as well as exercises that I'll be sharing with you their experience.You could combine the use of pain through the use of a professional, you need to think about.The tenderness can be really excruciating and it aids us to the stress or other birth defects that affect the sufferer's jaw muscles and continuing through the mouth, keep it there.Emotional conditions beyond daily life of the stresses of our jaw.You can actually be a main reasons that cause pain because it effects the jaw area.

#Tmj Cure Near Me Super Genius Tricks #Zanaflex For Tmj

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itsyaboisayori · 7 years

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Why I’m questioning Sayori

I said I’d make this post so here it is! Even got on my laptop to properly do the post :p I’m just kinda winging this but I’ll try to list out everything I can. If I forget stuff I’ll go back and edit it later so if you’re curious, keep watch! I’ll reblog any time I make edits, at least somewhat big ones.

Also, replies are welcome! I’m open to constructive criticism and anyone wanting to offer new viewpoints. I accept that I’m still learning and nothing is for sure yet. Also tbh anyone telling me I sound like I’m kin is validating as heck so if you’re thinking it then I’d appreciate you saying it ahaha, but please don’t lie to me because you think you know what I want to hear. I want the truth. I don’t want to be a confused mess ;n; And I know all/most of these could be COMPLETELY unrelated to being Sayori fictionkin, but I feel like they’re worth mentioning anyways. It’s more like, a bunch of little coincidences rather than big solid evidence, I’m aware of that and that’s a big reason why I’m questioning and not for-sure Sayorikin.

One thing I realized just a couple of days ago is how, since I was a kid I’ve had this like, ideal thing I guess? how do I put this into words lmao my brain is dumb,, I guess a fantasy, that I’d fall in love with a childhood friend, like someone I’m close with from a young age but strictly friends for a long time. I’ve always been in love with the idea of falling in love with your best friend. And of course that’s what happens to Sayori, due to her programming in DDLC. And if I’m kin with Sayori from other game(s) rather than just DDLC then it definitely could be something unrelated, just a coincidence.

I’m like, really drawn to DDLC?? Maybe just because DDLC is a great game and I love all the creepypasta type stuff behind it all, all the theories and dark shit, and also I think just as a cute dating sim it’d be great anyways (but nowhere near as great). But idk, when I saw it I immediately felt kinda drawn to it but maybe that’s just in my head or for some other reason like the characters look nice or smth.

Also it REALLY gives me feels. It makes me feel things in general. I rarely get genuinely scared from fictional stuff anymore but this game fucked me up. I’m still scared to play it on my own because, even after watching multiple youtubers play it multiple times, it still fucking scares me.

The Sayori suicide scene and her poem- especially the poem- really get to me. I saw people making hanging puns in the previous video before her death so it was kind of spoiled for me but even still, it got to me. And the scene where Sayori is freaking out because you deleted Monika before playing the game REALLY gets to me,, like I just understand that overwhelming, helpless feeling. Especially finding out why she acted that way, it’s so fucking hard to watch that scene and normally I’m not affected by this kind of stuff. So either DDLC is extremely good at psychological horror or I have some sort of connection to the scenarios, whether that be just that I’ve been through similar things and am projecting (not really that I remember though? idfk brains are weird) or ya know,,, I once lived as someone in DDLC or whatever.

(TW self harm/suicide/choking) Probably has no real correlation but when I have panic attacks/flashbacks (unrelated to DDLC I mean) I feel like I’m choking or like I can’t breathe. And when really frustrated I tend to choke myself? Sayori died from asphyxiation instead of her neck being broken, by accident because she used a stepping stool instead of something higher like a chair and jumping off. Btw I’m okay, I never actually choke myself to the point to causing permanent damage or anything, and of course I’m not saying this is like, okay or anything. I know it’s bad but I’ve done it completely on impulse, and this was all before learning DDLC even existed. I’m working on getting better and I’m not going to kill myself or anything, just thought I’d mention this.

I relate to her personality,,, so fucking much. Not just the whole pretending to be happy to make your friends happy thing, but how she is as a person besides her depression. Tbh I feel like a lot of people relate to her because of her depression and how she deals with it, but like she’s so much more than that. She pretends to be dumb but it actually pretty smart. Maybe she’s not the best with words but I think she’s a lot more intelligent than some people think. She’s so cheerful, maybe even annoying, and is kind of the class clown, and is a total weirdo sometimes but it’s GREAT and just,, same lmao. Like “looks like my boobs are getting bigger again >:D” is something I’d say lolol I just love Sayori so much, like idc if I’m kin with her or not she’s still fucking amazing.

Another reason I relate to her but probably is like not at all proof I’m Sayori or anything, just thought I’d mention anyways, but I was kinda like, really in love with my guy friend in high school for years, he’s actually kinda like MC in some ways, like he was kinda popular with girls but not like Popular(tm), super nice and couldn’t directly say no, but he knew I was in love with him (or at least knew I had a crush on him but he probably had no idea I liked him THAT much but hey neither did I for a long time lmao) and didn’t like me back and even started intentionally avoiding me. Like, he would make up an excuse to not give me a hug, like he was late for class, but hugs only take like a fucking second what the hell?? It sucked but like when the player turns down Sayori I Relate.

I just,,,,, want to hug Natsuki like she’s fucking adorable and I want to protect her the most bc she’s like a precious child and she’s obviously abused by her dad. Tbh Yuri is a little creepy and for some reason I don’t like her that much but I mean I’d still hug her. I don’t hate Monika, like it was just her programming to do all that stuff she did so I don’t blame her and she’s p cool and I’d hug her too tbh. When Sayori interacts with Natsuki it makes me feel all warm n fuzzy. Like I don’t think in my canon Sayori and Natsuki were dating or anything, I think I/Sayori am/was just really protective? Idk, thought I’d throw that out there.

I also heavily relate to wanting to be a mediator and wanting to help everyone get along and be happy. I often (try to) play that role in this life. I’m extremely empathetic, so that’s prob why, but I can’t stand when people are fighting or can’t see each other’s point of view. Though it also frustrates the FUCK out of me when people refuse to or just absolutely cannot see any point of view but their own. Maybe that’s not really a Sayori thing but ye

When I look at Sayori I get the same “that’s me!” feeling as when I see my kintypes. Who knows though, maybe in a month or two it’ll fade, we’ll see I guess. But right now it is Very Strong. Like I’ve somewhat questioned being fictionkin with other characters before but I’ve never had the “that’s me” feeling this strong with anyone else. Ruby from RWBY is a close second but I still think she’s just a kithtype.

I feel like having a past life or whatever as someone who was experimented on kinda makes sense?? Maybe I just enjoy horror a little too much but I really think if I am Sayori I’m kin with her like actual her not just the DDLC version of her. The new game hasn’t even been announced yet but I’m so excited, mostly because I feel like I want to learn more about my possible past life I guess. I wanna see if things in the second game connect with me or if it’s just DDLC. But I feel like, if I’ve had any past lives as any humans, they were probably really dark or smth. I kinda have a dark mind I guess and that would just make sense to me lmao, like I’m 21 why haven’t I grown out of my edgy phase, why the fuck am I still really into creepypasta? Damn.

I’ve been kinda obsessed with DDLC lately. I have BPD so it could totally just be a BPD obsession thing and maybe this obsession will fade and someday I won’t care too much about DDLC, only time will tell. Also I’ve had the song Your Reality stuck in my head for a week straight but it may just be a catchy song and I tend to have a song that kinda automatically starts playing in my head occasionally, usually lately it’s been Sad Machine by Porter Robinson (good song btw highly recommend)

Most likely unrelated but Sayori’s hair has been described as “strawberry blonde” on one wiki and my hair is like, light brown but reddish, though it looks more like Monika’s hair, especially because I keep my hair long. I’ve been kinda wanting to cut it but I like having long hair tbh and I feel like a lot of ppl don’t want me to cut my hair haha, though I really wanna get a short wig and maybe wear that occasionally (esp bc I’m non binary and wanna pass as more boyish sometimes, I know society will never accept me as nb bleh but anyways). Though, it’s been said that the reason her hair is short is because it’s easier for her to deal with, but I’m not 100% sure if that’s canon. Though I guess it doesn’t matter much? cuz multiverse stuff n all but, still.

Speaking of her appearance, she seems to not care too much about how she looks, which I relate to haha, especially because of depression n stuff. I mean I have Crippling Social Anxiety(tm) so I do care to an extent but usually I’m like, if someone likes me they’ll like me for who I am not how I look anyways. I don’t feel the need to dress super proper to impress anyone in casual social situations, like making friends or even going on dates (though I’ve only been on a real date like a few times and they were with my gf who I’d already been dating online for a while). And yeah a big reason she’s so careless about her appearance is depression but I think if I wasn’t depressed and she wasn’t depressed we’d still both have that mentality like, we don’t need to impress anyone with our appearance so it’s better to just dress how you want, whatever way makes you feel comfortable and happy with yourself and your body, than focus on being proper and stuff.

Maybe I’m just projecting but man I feel like a lot of stuff I do and my ways of thinking and stuff are very Sayori(tm). I feel like I am so much like her, like she’s so me. Though of course, maybe my reason for being kin with her is purely psychological. Maybe I “became” her after seeing DDLC. Maybe I am her because I relate to her so much. But again, only time will tell. If I still feel like I identify as her (which, currently, I most definitely do) in a couple of months or so, then I guess I’ll start calling myself fictionkin. Idk.

#dc #tw suicide ment #self harm ment #ficitonkin #kin #ddlckin #ddlc kin #sayorikin #sayori kin #ddlc fictionkin #doki doki kin #doki doki literature club kin #hey uh I'm open to suggestions/comments/etc as long as you're not like here to tell me I'm stupid for thinking I'm fictionkin or some shit #thanks #questioning kin #questioning fictionkin #I appreciate help and advice guys

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megacircuit9universe · 5 years

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Pokemon Go to the Polls!

THU MAR 05 2020

The big news today was that Elizabeth Warren dropped out of the race.

She didn’t endorse either Bernie, or Biden, but she did at least get out of Bernie’s way.

As I wrote yesterday, when Pete and Klobi dropped out the day before Super Tuesday, the iron was hot, and their unexpected departures and endorsements of Biden made it hotter.

Warren’s departure isn’t like that... dropping out two days after Super Tuesday, when that iron is cooling off... but four days before the next round of states: Idaho, Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, North Dakota, and Washington... which are all stone cold right now.

There is no fun name for these six states on March 10th. Consequential Tuesday is what it should be called, but I’d settle for Cool Tuesday, or even Casual Tuesday... anything. But no.

There will be no debate between Biden and Sanders before these states vote. And Warren isn’t going to endorse anybody beforehand.

Nevertheless, Washington and Michigan are two biggies, with Washington seemingly safe for Bernie Sanders, and Michigan a toss up. The other four are now presumed to be going to Joe Biden.

I think Warren’s exit will solidify Washington for Bernie, but he really needs to kill it in Michigan, if he’s gonna break the Super Tuesday spell and claim to be making a comeback.

And it would not hurt if Bernie stole one of the other four out from Under Biden.

The 18 to 38 vote here would make a huge difference, but will they turn out in force, like the cavalry, on Tuesday the 10th to save his ass?

Based on the primary season so far... no, they won’t.

Because they have not turned out in any numbers at all in Iowa, New Hampshire, and all the rest. And nobody in the media... not even in the alternative media, like TYT and the like on YouTube, are reaching out to this demographic in any meaningful way.

It’s a huge disappointment!

On TikTok, I am finally seeing this week, some peer pressure from fellow youngsters to get up off their asses and act, but not nearly enough.

When I think back to last summer, with the, Raid Area 51 Memes that everybody was doing... and to this past January with the WW3 memes that were just as viral... these few isolated videos I see where somebody is begging their fellow teens or twenty-somethings to vote in the primaries... it’s just sad how weak the signal is by comparison.

There is a meme that’s pretty viral called, “don’t make me vote for Joe Biden” that’s been going around all primary season, but... it got it’s start with jaded millennials on Twitter, and, was picked up by younger TikTockers who... are buying into the apathy of their 30-something counterparts without questioning it.

The central conceit of this meme is that they’re not going to vote at all until the general election in the fall... so please... old people... don’t nominate Joe Biden. Please, old people... nominate Bernie Sanders, who is our hands down fave!

Now, clearly, they all know they are allowed to vote in state primaries... but they’re all acting like... that level of involvement is a bit too much to ask of they, themselves... the hip and jaded youth. Going to the polls two times in one year? Come on! We have lives!

Never mind that for all these young adults, either on Twitter or TikTok, who are overwhelmingly white and/or affluent, their polling place is probably within easy walking distance of home... and that voting will take only about five minutes... is free... and is painless (it’s not like you have to get a shot or something)... it’s still a hell of a lot to ask them to do twice in the same year.

I put this mainly down to ignorance of the big picture. That big picture being: voting is the most important thing you can do to improve your life. It’s more important than school, work, dating, chasing your dreams, or even eating and using your toilet, because it’s fundamental to all of them.

Story time here...

When I was turning 18, in 1987, my home state of Illinois was still considered a red state. Reagan could rely on us both times around, and we regularly voted for Republican Governors.

This, of course was long before the internet, but there was a definite underground movement going on at the time, to get young voters registered and involved in the political process.

This is why I voted for Mike Dukakis right after I turned 18... and why I continued to vote in every single election, primary or general, local, state, and federal, for the rest of my life. It was instilled in my whole generation, here, that this was a fundamental civic duty that paid off.

So... I do not think it’s a coincidence that thirty years later, Illinois is considered as reliably blue as California and New York, and that in 2020, when so much of the Midwest, and the rest of the country are withering under far right oppression... we have a democratic Governor, Senate, and House, enjoy legal weed, are leading the Midwest on climate change and green energy, are a sanctuary for undocumented migrants, a haven for the LGBT rights, and doing better than most states with racial and gender equality.

This is what happens when you get a generation of young people to prioritize voting early and often, from the age of 18 onward.

It’s what should happen to every state, but what could happen in Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Ohio, Texas and Florida very soon, if anybody gave enough of a fuck to mobilize the young voters.

It seems ridiculous to me that here in 2020, when we have such a sophisticated internet, with hand held devices in every pocket... and with this ideal Presidential candidate... Bernie Sanders... champing at the bit to bring, not just the states mentioned above, but the entire country... into the 21st century in terms of universal health care, climate change, legal weed, etc... that the 18 to 38 demographic is sitting on their hands, pretending nobody under 60 is even allowed to vote for anything.

In normal times, I’d say... you’re gonna wait 30 more years for the stars to line up again like this with a national candidate who is anywhere near as progressive as Bernie. But these are not normal times, so... if you (they, we) do not take this opportunity... it may well never come again.

Climate change, pandemics, authoritarianism... economic depression... famine and war...

...all things which have been bearing down constantly on humanity since the dawn of civilization, and which only modern democracy has managed to hold back, the last 70 or 80 years...

...are right on the doorstep now, waiting to devour us... this time on a global scale.

Is that fear mongering? No. That’s reality. This is an emergency. All hands on deck, goddammit!

Generations of people dedicated their lives... or gave their lives... to defend this democratic system we have in the free world where intellect wins over ignorance, innovation over hardship, and enlightenment over brutality... and that system goes away tomorrow... if you don’t vote.

Elderly voters don’t give a shit about the future. They care about the past... and protecting themselves in their old age. Is that callous? Yes! Old people have no problem sending young people off to war to die... and no problem handing their own grandchildren a flaming pile of shit world... because they are selfish, brain damaged bastards, the whole lot of them.

That’s why a whole generation had to fight to lower the voting age to 18... because they were being fucking slaughtered in Korea and VietNam.

They won’t just make you vote for Joe Biden, if you let them... they will make you watch Trump destroy him, before he destroys you. Why the fuck would you sit back and let this happen?

Millenials and GenZ... and all the yet to be born generations to follow are crippled with debt out of college, have no hope of owning homes, are facing a planet that is slowly turning into a hellscape, and watching right wing fascists dismantle the constitution in front of their faces in real time... and doing nothing to stop it, by using the most powerful tool they have... the one that was won for them by blood sacrifices.

Why?

Just fucking go to your goddamn polling place and spend five minutes of your shitty life checking some boxes for fuck sake! Jesus, fucking Christ!

Okay, that seems like a good place to leave it tonight.

I’m going to bed.

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gncrevan · 7 years

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if i may get serious for a moment, there’s actually a whole lot of things i don’t like about the way tumblr spaces in particular use the term “disability” to describe a whole bunch of issues and symptoms that range from mild and normal to severely life-altering and life-threatening, so i’ll just try to articulate some points here.

most people i’ve met in real life are very extremely super unlikely to call their depression or dyslexia or mild hearing impairment a “disability” because disability is a bad and dirty word that connotes being dependent on people and not in control of your mind or body and less of a human being! they don’t wanna be associated with us disgusting dimwitted cripples, they are adamant that they are not like us, that they aren’t tragedies or garbage like us.

using the term without any nuance not only conflates very different issues into one, it also completely ignores real world power imbalances. if i have to see yet another dyslexic person talk over cognitively disabled people, i am gonna lose my mind. the next person with chronic fatigue who tells me they know what it’s like to be chronically ill, so they know what struggles i have, is gonna be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. obviously i could be like “don’t talk to me if your entire body isn’t on fire 24/7 and you keep permanently losing abilities and your IQ probably dropped like 20 points in the last years”, but how is that helping? how is that actually gonna be understood by people who think their own issues give them the right to speak about things they don’t experience?

i’m not saying we need to find different words for these different things, i mean i doubt it helps, and also it’s not like someone like me isn’t gonna profit from, for example, depression resources too, cause unsurprisingly the number of physically and cognitively disabled people who are also mentally ill is, uh, high. i’m not against combining our forces or whatever, but please, i really cannot stress this enough, stay in your fucking lane and don’t pretend you know shit about things you clearly know nothing about!!!

i genuinely don’t know how to make you understand how incredibly alienating it is to look at stuff that is meant for disabled people and only find resources for mental illness and mentions of maybe one (1) physical illness and two (2) cases of autism, of course high-functioning. i have no idea how to relate to you the feeling of people assuming they can tell you what your disability entails and that they have it so much worse or are able to do so much better than you despite their issues, when you can check every box on what symptoms they have and also add shit like “if i make the mistake of assuming i can walk around for a few hours like a normal person, i end up causing so much damage to myself that i will be in unbearable pain for weeks, or i might even get so sick i cannot stand up for days on end”.

obviously i don’t know what it’s like to be you either, but for some reason it’s always the able-bodied or only mildly impaired people with working brains who make assumptions about how the rest of us are affected by our conditions. i absolutely believe you that your depression is affecting your life majorly and i am really sorry about it, but somehow it’s always you who start acting like you’re worse off than me, only to later accuse me of pitying myself or playing oppression olympics or whatever when i try to tell you what is up with me. it’s always you who feel entitled to making judgements about my health and ability based on very little knowledge and never having met me or talked to me. it’s always you who lecture me uninvited because you can’t accept that i have boundaries, since obviously you deserve extensive insight into every symptom i have ever displayed, cause who else could decide whether i am Valid™ or not (definitely not my doctors or myself, no, you are the authority on me, a complete stranger whose post you saw on the internet). and then when i defend myself, or any disabled person like me defends themself, we’re too sensitive or not taking your illness/disability seriously or playing the victim or being the real bigots or, or, or...

i’m just. so tired of a platform where people love collecting oppression points for social capital and then proceed to use it against those who are too socially weak or otherwise unable to spin and wield narratives that way.

if you consider yourself disabled as a person who could, on a societal level, opt out of associating with disability, that’s fine, and i am glad that the concept is losing some stigma, even if only on the internet. but please show some human decency and self-awareness

if any of this is worded badly, it’s probably because my brain is useless and my body feels like it’s been hit by a bus, so i’d ask you to read what i wrote in good faith and ask me for clarification if necessary. thank you!

#disability #chronic illness #mental illness #opinion piece

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sheroars95 · 7 years

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The best way I can explain it is imagine being in an emergency, like someone's following you down a dark street at night, but you don't have any access to a phone, police, help, anyone to help or stop it, and the emergency has activated a flight or fight mode, certain receptors are releasing stress hormones and coping hormones and it’s “MAYDAY! MAYDAY!” in your head during this DISASTER and your ability to ironically get out of it which is the goal of your brain putting you in JUST SURVIVE THIS mode, is compromised because in a disaster, your body tenses up, you can’t think straight and you just, as mentioned, FIGHT or FLIGHT while feeling extreme peril and hope your clouded, loud and debilitating mind doesn’t land you into a deadly situation..The DISASTER feeling non-anxious folks have during very rare moments of disaster, is an ALL THE TIME feeling, no-exaggerating for anxious people.That’s why so many of us say even getting out of the house is a huge accomplishment. Non-anxious folks, when feeling anxiety for a few minutes or hours once every blue moon during a crisis can’t overcome it, don’t know how to function with it and need help and usually get it. We went through that, and the fear never went away so we learned to function despite that crisis mode. Imagine writing an exam with the same feeling you’d have as if you witnessed a murder. Imagine making small-talk, finding somebody to be with, maintain any sort of a life? To function in an emergency state is hard, but if that emergency state is permanent as in the case of an anxiety disorder, some of us have no choice and some of us make permanent solutions that show everybody else just how hard life can be with anxiety and little compassion for it from society or even those closest to us. So if you don’t have an anxiety disorder and think back to when you had a crisis and how scatter-brained and not yourself you were until a solution was found, and you barely handled the maximum couple days of excruciating stress you had, imagine how much strength anxious people have for not only handling A LIFETIME or since-trauma of time until death of THAT EXACT DEAFENING CRIPPLING FEAR feeling. There isn’t a situation to be fixed, situational anxiety is human: and that may be the worst part. Imagine in that mindset, doing anything let alone getting an education, having friends, having a relationship: basic life expectations are milestones for the anxious because, as mentioned, to be above ‘just making it through the terror’ is defying physical, chemical wiring saying ‘no, you will hide or run and not advance in life’ with actions, because anxiety tells us how to feel and if we can’t act opposite to how we feel, it would take us under.Achieving things is hard when you’re just focusing on surviving today and not killing yourself over the limitations anxiety has on your life which depress you: just fucking stop hating on anxious people for 'just not getting a job,' 'being inside all day' ,'being lazy':imagine if during a crisis you were asked to socialize? Enroll in classes? Work from morning to night? You wouldn’t be able to at all if anxiety hadn’t become a frenemy you learned to eventually live with. So when an anxious person AVOIDS triggers, because we can never fully have assurance as our anxiety is not situational which would be fixed with a solution, or a crisis-state which ends with eventual relief, we can experience less anxiety, but it never goes away. If not socializing until we are able to helps us handle life, at least we are not driving ourselves insane and ruining our lives pushing ourselves to do that which OUR DISORDERS DO NOT ALLOW. If we have to plan our lives around avoiding panic attacks because anxiety is inevitable, and our brain chemistries or PTSD, other disorders have to be accomodated like any other illness, who the fuck are you unless you have this to deal with, to judge? If you were a diabetic not scheduling your life, plans, choices around what you can and cannot do because of it, you’d probably end up really doing some damage. So yes, we also wish hanging out with us was more fun and we could just ‘stop being anxious’ or depressed for a bit so you could have a good time, or so we could enjoy our own damn lives but it does not work that way. WE SUFFER ALL THE TIME how non-anxious people have experienced rarely and were given all the comfort in the world to recover from it swiftly and keep leading normal lives.Lucky bastards!

Anxiety feels how non-anxiety disordered people do when they're nervous (first dates, interviews, rollercoasters, first day of school, driving for the first time) but non-stop, always. Try thinking and planning your life, making good choices, even talking, if you felt like you were about to miss the only bus coming in 5 hours and had to run to it- you can't talk to anyone, get out your phone, take a break- you're just trying to make it through and settle that fear by conquering it. Thing is, anxiety is a disorder, there is not a situational reason, but a chemical response luckily non-disordered people don't have triggered all the time and it is diagnosed as a disorder, not exagerrated as 'nervousness' because it affects social, personal, professional and all aspects of a person's life negatively. So please understand if your anxious friend doesn't keep plans, goes away for a while, any of that, they're doing their best and fuck, I have seen many good people lose their lives because living with this supposedly common and 'not a big deal' mental illness is too underexaggerated in terms of pain, and it's one of those things you suffer alone. The depression resulting from the isolating nature of an anxiety disorder is the worst and I don't care if you're ignorant enough to believe every human's experience of depression and anxiety at some points is what having an actual disorder is like, but I've read too many obituaries of my fucking friends because of exactly that.I had someone taking Psychology who used to be my best friend tell me my depression was 'too negative' for her when I was having an incredibly hard time. With anxiety you can't really ask for help unless something bad, which is exactly what we're anxious about happening, happens, otherwise it's like "hello friend? i have an anxiety disorder and am anxious can you please be there for me as you would always have to be because I will always be anxious?" and eventually you realize you're a burden, no one wants to hear how hard life is for you and you lose the desire to share any of your experiences, because they're all bad,lmao.Basically, if you don't get a mental illness or disease that the DSM-IV classifies as such and people who have medical degrees can diagnose, it is not 'a trend', too common to be serious and respect it as any illness and educate yourself about how to not worsen the symptoms in those who have it because one day you might witness something unforgettable that makes the world turns bright and crack into other experiences you may have had before , which felt just as horrible, and the PTSD nightmares will have you waking up in cold sweats and during the dy you'll be checking behind you, making sure that it won't happen again and everything will seem like a trigger letting you know IT WILL HAPPEN again and when you experience anxiety, which is common because TRAUMAS CAUSE ANXIETY even in non-anxious-disordered people....that's what happened to me...you will have the sympathy and love of people who can help you because you were kind to their anxiety and they can save you through yours. It's like a little community where we hate everyone else but find out you feel that way too? Come here nugget! You know? So just know that's what it's like and anyone can get it-it's the mental cancer we treat like a trend instead of an epidemic which is fuckkkked.. TAKE ANXIETY SERIOUSLY PEOPLE KILL THEMSELVES OVER IT OR SOMETIMES IT LEADS TO WORSE MENTAL STATES AND PEOPLE DO EVER WORSE THINGS SO TAKE IT FUCKING SERIOUSLY AND DON'T SUGGEST DEEP BREATHS BECAUSE YOU WERE NERVOUS ONCE AND THAT HELPED.

Obviously this post is directed to a specific sort of ignorant bastard and all of us who are fed up with this bullshit.

#stopbeingignorant #anxiety is worth accommodating #dontbeadick

#anxiety #rant #mental health #awareness #educate #the muggles

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beautifulramblingbrains · 7 years

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Bound By Blood - Chapter 9

Pairing: Eric/OC *Sarah* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M - Red flags. No kids.

She’s bound by the love for her family. And he won’t rest till he finds the face to his ghosts.

A/N: ...And we have the longest chapter yet. It’s a biggy. Also, a huge thanks to @murmelinchen for all her time and patience. And thanks to everybody and your support, it’s what keeps me going. :)

Tags: @dauntlessmetalmom @equalstrashflavoredtrash @badassbaker @red-diary @pathybo @insertamazingwords @feminamortem @halefiresurvivor @suchlonelymuchsoul @elaacreditava @lauraaan182 @synnocence @jcause @glittergiirlgg @frecklefaceb @mimigemrose @sparklemichele @beltz2016 @ariwolff14 @queensoybean @impalalala6799 @tomarisela @bookwarm85 @original46 @tigpooh67 @alida90 @beastcoastbitchez @seriskye @summerealexander

Cradling her books to her chest, Mary rushes up the path to school all because Meredith was playing on her broken nose that morning. As far as she knew, dizziness was not a symptom but more of an excuse or probably punishment to make her get Thomas ready, so her mother could hide the black bruises under her eyes and not get out of bed.

Mary has always been timely and being late made her feel on edge. But in fact, she was not late at all, just out of her usual routine. As the rest of the pupils stroll towards the entrance, she doesn't pay any attention to who is around her while rushing. And she doesn't see the foot that trips her in time. She falls, still cradling her books, some tumbling out of her arms onto the pathway and she lands with a surprised gasp.

"Oh shit! Mary!" Ross half laughs, the group of friends she used to hang around with crowding around her. "Let me help," he coos but instead of helping, he picks up one of her books and lobs it onto the grass.

Mary pulls herself up, wiping her knees and elbows. "You jerk!"

"Damn, I thought you didn't want the book, I thought that's why you dropped it."

Rebecca steps forward and sneers, "We heard about your sister. I guess, all the stories are true."

Mary ignores her, attempting to gather her stuff back together. Once straight, the group doesn't let her pass, forming a circle around her. She looks between them all, then back over her shoulder. She spots Mark patrolling with two others, and she's glad he hasn't noticed her yet - the last thing she wanted was to be seen being bullied by her former crush.

"You're going to be late for class." She tries an act of distraction, but they merely laugh at her.

"Your sister's a mistress!" Ross jokes. "Hey, that kind of rhymes."

"You are so dumb." Rebecca rolls her eyes, then simpers at Mary. "I'm sad you're not our friend anymore. Apparently we're not good enough for you."

"Bad mouthing my sister is a sure way of that." Mary looks behind her again to Mark who has spotted her and her smile falls at the look on his face - Dauntless didn't like the weak. Nor was he going to be thrilled that she wasn't popular or had friends.

"If you don't mind…" She tries shouldering past but Ross pushes her again. With the heat of the moment, she is pushed again by someone else till everyone begins to swirl around her.

"Stop! Don't touch me!" All she can hear is them snickering and words of insults till she's finally shoved from the circle. But not by her old group of friends, instead it's Mark who frees her from her attackers.

He squares up to Ross, glaring down from his towering height at him. The normal sated look in his eyes is fierce and a silent warning drips from his body language.

"Who are you?" Ross tries to stand his ground.

"It doesn't matter who I am. Touch her again, and we're going to have a problem here."

"Stand down, Dauntless." It was the wrong thing to say. Mark pulls his arm back and boxes him straight in the face. Rebecca stumbles back with her boyfriend and one of them begins walking backwards. When Mark grabs Ross by the collar and lifts him from the floor, Mary gets her first glimpse of his Dauntless blood as he hisses something to Ross which she can't hear. He releases him with a shove, dusts himself off and adjusts his cap. Putting his arm around Mary's shoulders, he walks her to the entrance.

"Mark, it's okay." Though she didn't feel it and she felt incredibly stupid, she tries to portray that it was nothing by keeping her head down.

"No, it's not. Nobody treats my girl that way." He's still angry but when he catches her eyes, he lifts his lips to smile at her.

"Your girl?"

"I'll be waiting for you after school."

When they stop, Mary takes the few steps up to the door, then suddenly turns back. She pecks his cheek, blushes and gives him one last look over her shoulder before she disappears inside the school.

Eric's vest doesn't cover the nail marks that decorate his back and shoulders, nor does he care. He hits the bag, working hard on his arm muscles after a heavy round on the weights, feeling the skin stretch and taut in healing. He's vaguely aware of someone approaching him, but doesn't bother turning to them.

"Hey, what happened to you last night?" Wayne drawls, chewing on candy and dressed for a day at the office, not for the gym.

Eric exhales, shaking off the pain in his wrists. "I went home." He bends down for his water, glancing at a group of people passing them.

"Saw you with the Stiff..." Eric's eyes snap to him but Wayne remains casual. "You do her?"

Eric's eyes narrow at him. "Why is that any of your business?"

"It's just real sweet, man." He smiles tightly, nodding his head. "It's great that you're trying to be a family man now."

"Seriously, fuck off, Wayne," Eric grumbles and grabs his hoodie.

Wayne follows him when Eric makes a break for the exit. "It just seems too drastic. Some gray girl turning up with some kid, claiming she lived with you, she's sorry-"

"It's not some kid, he's mine. And his name is Jack, you asshole," Eric throws over his shoulder.

"He may be yours, but you sure it wasn't like, entrapment or something? It's funny how it's such a short amount of time and, by the looks of your shoulders, you've fallen right into bed with her again."

Eric suddenly stops and Wayne almost walks into him. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying…" Wayne gestures with his fingers at himself. "This is me, a friend of ten years and counting, looking out for you."

"You'll be counting the stars around your head if you don't start backing out of my business." Eric shoves him by his shoulder.

"Hey, man! Relax!"

In his aggravation, Eric wipes at his mouth. "I'm fucking tired of everyone thinking they know more than me. If you were so worried and interested in my life, Wayne, you would've known about the memory serum." Eric raises an eyebrow, then sneers when Wayne doesn't respond. "Didn't think so." He takes a few steps and then turns back. "Oh, and I want all security and patrol reports on my desk by the time I get there…" Eric grins wickedly. "Till then."

Wayne watches him leave, pulling out another piece of candy and shoves it into his mouth, cursing to himself. He should've gotten rid of Sarah when he had the chance.

Eric can't lie to himself that he didn't think about Wayne's words himself at some point. It did seem logical. But having known Sarah, and her plight for family, he knew it couldn't be true.

Taking off his shoes by the door, he's about to call out for her but his phone bleeps instead. He pulls it out, quickly scanning it. It's an email from Johanna from Amity. He huffs before loading her long spritely message of thanks over the hearing of the factionless being taken care of and the new found safety of their deliveries. It's full with questions about supplies, events, and even an invitation for a visit. Eric cringes at the thought.

His biggest problem at the moment was crippling Jeanine with the support of the other factions. He needed to make arrangements with the faction leaders, explain in person the situation as he didn't trust the safety of the database, and find out whether he could sway them towards his ideas. It shouldn't be too hard. But, the fact he was going to be calling for her execution - that part would be delicate to handle.

However, that was the legal route. He could easily gather a small army, walk in and throw her from the top of the building. But then he would lose trust and cooperation from the other factions and that could be damaging… for a pretty long while.

It was mighty tempting and it makes him laugh, thinking of Jeanine sitting confidently behind her desk, high in her castle, none the wiser to his planning or what role he is going to take part in. What she surely must know is that he will be eventually coming for her. And that he will, with great pleasure.

But first, the structure of the factions was at stake. There would be nothing to run without the security of the inner workings of society.

What he thought was an issue with initiates becoming factionless, he had come up with a unique idea. The fields of Amity were a grueling task, sentence of a lifetime for failure, but also damned to be with the cotton-pullers. Rather than factionless - or Jeanine's planted idea of removing Abnegation, he wanted to exercise a form of labor as a substitute for failure. Not only would it aid the city, it would keep the peace, cleanse his name, lessen another brain ache. Amity could be diplomatic and maybe that would convince Johanna to agree. She could share the bread for all the fucks he gave.

"Eric?" Sarah appears from the hallway of the bedrooms, a worried expression on her face. "Are you okay?" Jack is in her arms and she rubs his back slowly. "I heard you come in."

He hadn't realized he had been standing by the door for so long. "Everything's fine." He sighs and steps in front of her. "But I have to ask you something," he says, pausing to place a hand on Jack's head. "What's the history between you and Wayne?"

She blinks a few times before dropping her eyes. "Mary worked for Wayne and he used her. He did it out of spite to get to me as he didn't like our relationship..." She trails off, stopping herself from saying much more, Wayne's words suddenly ringing in her mind over whether or not Eric would believe her over him. "I don't trust him."

"Should I trust him?" he asks, his voice quiet and rumbling from his chest. When Sarah looks into his eyes, he gets the answer before she even has to say it.

"No."

He bites his lip and leans forward, pausing only for a second to tangle his fingers into the side of her hair before he kisses her for a long moment. When he breaks away, he asks, "Did you go to the infirmary?"

"Yes." She still has her eyes closed and he caresses the side of her face, watching her lean into his touch with a frown.

"Will you ever lie to me again?"

"No. And I never wanted to lie to you."

She opens her eyes to gaze up at him and he clucks his tongue. "For a long time I dreamt of you." He sighs and smiles at her. "How could I forget those eyes?"

"You never really did." She smiles back at him shyly. "You found me, remember?"

"Just..." His lip quirks suddenly, suppressing a laugh. "And I also found our son, which has just thrown up on you."

"Jack!" she exclaims and moves him quickly back to look at the milk dribble all over her shoulder and hands him to Eric. She rushes to the sink and Eric follows slowly behind her as she cleans herself up.

"By the way, we're going to Amity." Jack's head wobbles back to look up at him when he speak as if he had just realized who was there and smiles. "You alright, boy?" The little boy's face falls serious and he begins kicking ferociously, breathing rapidly and squeaks.

"Really?"

"Yeah… soon," Eric says distantly, frowning at Jack. "What is this kid doing?"

Sarah laughs, watching Jack open mouthed and trying to reach Eric's shoulder. "He vomited, so he probably thinks he's hungry again." She drifts in thought. "He eats so much… I wonder if that's because he sleeps through the night..."

"How do I know?"

"Maybe we should try and avoid a feeding, get him to sleep? It really wasn't that long ago."

"I'll put him in the bouncer. He likes that thing."

"Yeah." Sarah nods, watching Eric crouching down to put him in it. "Yeah, he can doze in there."

But when he does so, Jack begins crying and Eric huffs. "What now?"

"Maybe he just wants to be held?" Eric rolls his eyes but puts him to his shoulder and paces slowly up and down, rubbing his back. "Aren't you working today?"

"I'm supposed to be."

"I'll take him then." Sarah takes a step but Eric holds his hand out.

"No. I've already missed so much," Eric whispers something to Jack as he soothes him and Sarah feels a warmth spread in her chest at the sight of them together. Suddenly being too emotional, she wipes at her tears quickly so Eric can't see. "He even frowns in his sleep."

"Thanks for walking me home, Mark." Mary keeps her hands clasped in front of her, standing on the doorstep to her house. "I would invite you in, but-"

"The mother?" he offers with a wry smile.

"Well, yes. But I doubt she would show her bruised face." Mary scoffs. "Anyway, I have a few things I need to do."

Mark frowns. "Like what?"

"I make my nephew's clothes. I also do mine and Sarah's clothes, the odd button when my mother wants me to."

Mark has a funny expression on his face, smiling slightly. "You make clothes? When were you going to let that slip?"

"Being a tailor is not exactly cool." She gestures with her fingers.

"Like I care... But since you mentioned it, I broke my zipper pocket." He points to his jacket pocket. "Is that a reasonable excuse to come in?"

Mary tries to hide her smile by biting her lip. "Tell you what, we'll make a deal. You come in and I fix your pocket, and then I can send you back to Dauntless with the stuff I finish."

"Sounds fair." Mary holds the door open and invites him in.

"Oh, but be warned, Thomas will have you playing trucks."

"...his room needs pictures and things. Lots of colors. I was thinking the alphabet and numbers up one wall. At least then he can look at them…" Sarah rambles on to Eric. From time to time he glances up from his computer in his office to where they sat and she'd be either pulling faces or helping Jack stand up on her lap. "He can't go into his own room until six months-"

"What?" Eric says dryly, his face falling.

"For safety reasons. But that's okay, because you're a good sleeper, aren't you?" she coos.

"A good sleeper with no consideration for adult time. I find adult time fun." Eric lets the words roll off his tongue suggestively, raising an eyebrow at Sarah when she whips her head across to him.

She turns Jack around, facing him away and puts her hands over his ears. "He doesn't need to hear things like that, and especially swearing, Eric."

"I can't help it. Sometimes it just fucking slips out."

"Now, hold your son and say that again." She stands up, taking Jack over him.

"Sarah I'm trying to work."

She places him on Eric's lap anyway. "You've barely done anything since we've been here."

"Yeah," he mocks. "Because your mother is a blabbermouth." He picks up Jack's arm and salutes her.

"Mommy. Mother reminds me too much of my mom."

"I'm not using that." He shakes his head.

"I call you daddy…"

"Not in the way I want you to." He snorts when her face crumples up. "In fact, I want you saying it properly tonight." He reaches out to her skirt and tugs on it, rolling his chair after her when she tries to make a break for it.

"Eric!" She half giggles and shrieks when he latches a hand around her leg. He hoists Jack to his shoulder, having her stand over one of his legs as he ventures upwards.

A knock on the door makes Sarah blush and stand back while Eric keeps his eyes on her. "Come in," Eric calls, grinning at her.

Clair appears, a perfectly composed face with Sarah standing there, having watched her pass earlier. She doesn't hesitate and says, "A soldier, Mark, is here to see Sarah."

That immediately bothers Eric and he sits straighter. He still hadn't caught up with the little twerp. He waves his hand for Clair to send him in.

"Hey, Sar," Mark says when he steps into the office. Him shortening Sarah's name makes Eric frown harder. In Mark's hands is a box and when Clair shuts the door, he walks more into the room, placing it on the vacant chair. "I saw Mary yesterday. Gave me this stuff to give to you." He clears his throat, nodding to Eric. "Eric...Jack."

"She's silly, she shouldn't have." But it doesn't stop her from opening it, pulling out a dress and holding it to her body.

"She is really good at that."

"I know. I keep telling her to do it professionally." She smiles at Eric over her shoulder but he's indifferent. "Can you give her a message-"

"No point, sweetheart," Eric cuts her off. "You'll be seeing her tomorrow." He stands up, passing Jack to Sarah when he passes her and comes face to face with Mark. "You and Mary, are you more than friends?"

"We are dating, sir."

"Right…" Eric smirks in his own amusement. "I'm inviting you and Mary to a trip to Amity tomorrow, staying a few days. You up for it?"

Mark seems taken aback, looking at Sarah with a sense of worry. "Er, well-"

"Actually, it's not really an option, boy. You can tell her on your patrol tonight to get herself ready. Nine AM sharp I want you down in the warehouse waiting for us." He jabs a finger into Mark's chest in warning. "It doesn't mean you're off duty, though."

"Yes, sir. Certainly." He nods. "Sarah, see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Mark." When he leaves, almost tripping over his own feet, she turns to Eric. "Thank you."

"I did it for me. It might just mean we can catch a night alone together." His eyes darken as he saunters back over to her. "No disturbances… No excuses." He grabs her waist, careful of Jack and pulls her to him. "And no more having to listen to your fucking baby talk." He leans down and kisses her.

"Language," she barely whispers against his lips.

"I make the rules, and I break them," he mumbles before he leans back in.

When the kiss gets too heated, Sarah puts a finger against his lips. "Amity," she whispers the word as a promise.

Mary's already waiting outside the house when they pull up. She waves when they come into view and Sarah is sure Eric brakes harder than necessary knowing Mark was in the back of the truck - there's a thump and a muffled yelp.

Scooting up to the middle seat closer to Eric, Mary sits next to Sarah and dumps her bag in the footwell. They hug, because it had felt like the longest time they hadn't seen each other. Mary plays with Jack's hand on Sarah's lap as the truck begins to pull away and she can't help but turn her head and admire the man next to her. He catches her, mirth playing on his lips and puts his hand on her thigh.

After a while of driving, she speaks quietly to Eric when she sees Mary dozing off as she stares out the window. "I know you," she tells him in just above a whisper. He doesn't take his eyes off the road, just merely hums in response. "You dislike Amity, so there is another reason why we are going."

"I've arranged a meeting with Johanna for this afternoon. I have to clear a few things up."

"We went to Amity once. I stood in on one of your meetings."

Eric's furrowed brows tell her he's pondering her words. "Last time I went it was about expansion. A little warning to Johanna after I examined their new buildings."

"No. You took me there before that."

"I did?" Now he looks at her and she smiles. "Why?"

"I never really knew..." She peers over at Mary who is resting her head on the glass and closing her eyes. "Until now, that is."

"I don't see a purpose of you being there," Eric says bluntly in his typical style.

"I think it's because you wanted me there." She lets the rumble of the engine drift between them before continuing. "Do you remember anything?"

"Do you want me to be honest?

Sarah chews her lip. "It's a new thing we're trying."

Eric rubs a thumb against his mouth, bracing his arms against the wheel. "I remember…" He winces at the pain in his head, but only subtly and if Sarah didn't know him well enough she wouldn't have seen it. "A girl. An Amity girl… taking her clothes off."

"That girl wasn't Amity." For him to say that so ordinary, she guessed it wasn't the first time he had had that experience, and even though it was in the past, it still hurt a little. "That was me. That time, at least."

His eyes are sharp when he looks over at her. "You told me to be honest."

"I know." She tilts her head, keeping her gaze on Jack asleep in her arms. "Do you remember anything else?"

"Lots of things are a mess in my head, Sarah. Do you want me to tell you every experience I've ever had there?"

"I just wanted to know if you remember taking my first kiss." She keeps her eyes trained on their sleeping son and when he doesn't respond, she sighs, feeling stupid to feel so romantic about this moment so long ago in their past. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't that great anyway."

Eric scoffs. "Are you pissed at me? Are we going to have the who-done-what conversation now? Is that what road we're driving down?"

"I was hoping you remembered and that's why you were taking us. Don't worry, it was foolish of me."

Eric throws his head back to the road. "Well, I don't remember and I can assure you it pains me greatly that I don't." They hit a bump and as the trucks shudders, he automatically puts his arm out across both Sarah and Jack protectively before continuing. "And what the fuck? It wasn't that great?"

"I didn't particularly like you at the time. And I didn't really know myself back then. It was difficult."

"You didn't know yourself but you took your clothes off for me? Pull the other one…" He chuckles to himself.

"You told me to take my clothes off and I barely knew you. You made me eat the Amity bread! But then we had a disagreement and you put me in a cold shower..." Sarah rambles on while Eric watches her from the corner of his eyes.

"Alright, that's enough!" Eric rubs his forehead in agitation.

"No, I need to say this! I need to make things clear if you don't remember. It will make more sense for what I did." She scrunches her nose up at the memories. "You made me question myself, my morals, standards; things I shouldn't have been worrying about."

"Are you looking for an apology over things I can't recall?" he asks incredulously.

"I just want to know why..."

"Why what?!" His voice raises and Sarah jumps, scanning Jack and Mary who haven't moved.

"Why it had to be that way…"

"Fuck's sake," Eric mutters under his breath. "I can't give you the explanation you're asking for."

"Try…"

"So help me god I am about to turn this truck around and drop you back at Dauntless," he hisses, slouching back into his shoulders.

"Why are you getting so angry? It's only me and you right now."

"Because you infuriate me!" His driving becomes more erratic and he shifts in his seat. "But let's take a wild guess because you are obviously so absorbed by this-"

"I'm not absorbed," Sarah says quietly, rolling her eyes.

"Let's throw a girl like you under my feet at Dauntless. Not just any girl, some blond haired, blue-eyed, fucking intelligent piece of skirt. Have her stroll around like you did when I saw you back in Abnegation. Smiling, laughing... That," he points at her when her eyes widen at him. "Pfft…" He exhales angrily and shakes his head. "You have no idea."

Sarah doesn't say anything, letting him calm down. But eventually he speaks, "You said you didn't exactly like me, I guess, I saw it as a game."

Sarah nods, keeping herself small next to him. "I see."

"A game that fucking backfired and bit me in the ass." He rubs a hand through his hair, his jaw ticking as he slowly begins to shut down again.

She knows she has to lighten the mood before they get to Amity, the last thing she wanted was a wall being built up between them again. "We've done a lot of things, but biting you in the ass isn't one of them." She lets the sway of the truck move her body, trying to keep her lips tight as not to smile.

Eric shakes his head, scoffing as he peers up to the sky through the windscreen and cracks an impressive smile. "Was that a joke?"

"I'm trying-"

"That was bad..."

Sarah can't help but laugh when she thinks about it, especially when Eric becomes consumed by her giggling.

They are greeted with what Sarah believes to be Dauntless that have been policing alongside Amity. With them a crowd of Amity gathers, Johanna fronting them in all her orange glory.

Mary blinks, waking up to the truck stopping and Jack stirs.

"Just in time," Eric says more to himself as he shuts off the engine and throws his door open.

Mary gathers her bag and is helped down by Amity folk with wide, bright smiles and bountiful greetings.

Putting Jack to her shoulder, she adjusts her skirt to climb down and suddenly Eric's hand appears in her view. Sarah takes it and he aids her to the edge of the seat, then swaps to hold her at the waist as he sets her to the floor. Covering Jack with a blanket from sight and the weather, they round together to be faced with Johanna's intrigued grin.

"Why... I think we have met before." She bows her head at Sarah. "Hello, Eric." Eric nods forcefully back at her. "And we have a new addition," she insinuates to the baby held protectively.

"His name is Jack," Sarah says and smiles.

"Jack Coulter. Has a certain ring to it, doesn't it?" Her eyes flicker to Eric when he turns his head to the side in disdain.

"I like it."

Johanna holds her arm out. "Please, we have been waiting for your arrival. You must be hungry."

Sarah glances at Eric momentarily, he's tilting his head back almost grimacing. "Starving!" She speaks for them all and overly expressive, not wanting to appear rude.

Johanna aids Sarah with a hand gently on her back, having her walk first in front of everyone. "If I'd have known about the baby, I would have made your greeting far less crowded."

Eric stands on the spot, watching the people peel away after the Amity leader. Squinting from the sun bearing down, he loathes every single second being on Amity turf. Mark rushes to his side and he barely looks at him. "You're the bag boy." Then he marches off, preparing himself to be somewhat civil as the Dauntless patrol swamp him.

From what Sarah is seeing, the meeting isn't going so well. She stands curtly next to Eric who is seated behind a small table almost in the middle of the room, his fingers twirling and plucking at a piece of her skirt while he slouches back, a stoic mask on his face.

Eric isn't particularly happy with Johanna's extra company that she'd only notified him of five minutes before they were due to start. When Sarah had asked during lunch, he had explained a little the topics that would be covered and what he was truly trying to accomplish with the meeting. He had kept his voice low, so only she would hear about it.

Her curiosity however, drew her the short straw and he'd requested her to accompany him in on the meeting. But more importantly, she remembers him being steadfast on his own words that, 'there was no chance in hell' that he would reveal information regarding Jeanine to anyone other than her, or the specific Leader's of each faction - the plans didn't need to fall into the wrong hands.

By the subtle tick in his jaw, it was obvious he was now finding this meeting a waste of time. And as if, by destiny, to top everything off and for Johanna to live up to his preferred nickname as 'Wench', it's not even her who is talking, it's some older gentlemen. And he's ruthlessly tearing into Eric's new idea that Sarah finds she actually agrees with.

"...we can not express our gratitude towards the settling of the factionless. But how can we possibly agree to letting strays from every faction...failures…" The older gentlemen specifically elaborates while standing. "...inhabit so close to a faction of peace." He leans on the desk, showing his expressive concern to the Amity spokespeople and sweeping his head down the line to insert his distress. "They will have a problem already, in the first place," he taps the desk, "and this problem becomes rebellion. It will be the same, time and time again." Johanna nods in agreement with him, and Eric huffs.

Sarah feels Eric before she notices him lean forward. He roams over her quickly, nothing telling on his face, and chooses his words carefully before giving his attention back to the Amity. "I have evaluated every possible scenario, and this will work. If things continue the way they are, all of us can abandon the idea of ever having any peace, whatsoever, in any faction. Disagreeing with an idea striving for a chance for the future and to move forward, well, you might as well tear down your manuscript in regards to freedom and harmony." He breathes audibly, shifts in his seat and grimaces expressively. "But let's be honest here, you've got yourselves an already existing problem." He flicks an index finger between the group of people facing him, including Johanna. "And I don't know what this is, and I don't frankly care, but I'm not fucking impressed in the slightest."

Johanna's eyes widen and somebody gasps. Sarah drops her head to the floor, briefly closing her eyes and gnaws her lip nervously.

"I know you are all terribly aware of Johanna's status, the trouble her kindness has undoubtedly caused which affected your faction to the literal point you had to beg for permission to expand - which was in fact, issued by me." He scoffs. "Is it fear that makes you unable to front this meeting alone, Johanna?"

"Mr. Coulter, we do not take kindly to threats, or for that matter, swearing so openly."

Eric glares at the man being so brave as to interfere. "I don't take kindly to deadbeats trying to argue with every single damned thing I've mentioned today. Who exactly are you anyway?"

"Johanna's top informant."

Eric scoffs and shakes his head. "I don't like you," he says openly and watches Johanna's informant sink back into his seat. "You should be very careful how you speak to me. Dauntless is still the policing faction."

"Yes, we are all aware of your capabilities, Mr. Coulter."

Eric runs his tongue along his teeth, sitting back more in his chair, eyes locked onto the people in front of him. "I find myself having been quite lenient as of late, and I'm dealing with the pitfalls. Well… this stops now."

There is a low mumble from the Amity and Eric pauses to take a sip of water, lost in his own thoughts. Sarah finds herself looking between the five Amity and then to Eric who has fronted this meeting alone.

"May I ask you something, Johanna…" Sarah keeps her voice quiet as not to catch the attention in the room. But it was pointless, every person has stopped what they were doing and directed all their attention onto her, even Eric.

Johanna seems hesitant, but nods gracefully for her to continue. "What is the cause for your concern?" Sarah tilts her head in thought, following a line on the floor before meeting the older woman's eyes. "Because... living out here quite comfortably, instead of being sent off to live factionless - harvesting fields does not seem like such a terrible alternative."

"Are we really going to let an Abnegation lead this meeting?" the older gentleman shouts, rudely interrupting her.

"Shut the fuck up," Eric snaps.

The gentleman opens his mouth, but Johanna throws her hand out at him. "Enough, Derek. I want to hear what she has to say. Every opinion matters."

Sarah tries to smile, though it falters. She felt somewhat overwhelmed by all the attention and that maybe she was about to make a fool out of herself. But she had told herself in the past multiple times that it was time to do something, to not sit back and watch anymore, and now she was going to live up to it. "I'm just wondering why there would be a possibility of a rebellion when everything they protested for is clearly covered?"

Eric's snort is the loudest in the room. He kicks his leg out, obviously overjoyed by the simple, yet, correct information she had thrown out towards their debate. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it, sweetheart... Rebellion?" He looks up at Sarah before he meets Johanna's eyes. "For what?"

Pursing her lips, Johanna tilts her head to the side in thought as she writes something down on the paper in front of her. The stares and silence in the room make Sarah shift uncomfortably until Johanna speaks. "Do we get the pleasure of dictation regarding the set-up?" she asks.

"That is to be discussed. But certainly, yes, if beneficial," Eric answers formally.

"Well..." Johanna claps her hands together, standing up and looking to the people around her. "It seems we need some time to come to an agreement."

"You have three days," Eric counters, scooting his chair back and gathers a folder in front of him.

"Enjoy your stay." Someone calls out to them as Sarah rushes to keep up with Eric. They descend the stairs from Johanna's loft office, and she almosts runs into him, not realizing he'd stopped.

She wets her dry lips, the scratch painful in her throat as she swallows. "I'm sorry, Eric. I didn't mean to-"

"You undermined my position, Sarah." He's frowning and she shakes her head, trying to find words, stammering as she does. "But you couldn't have chosen a better time."

"What?" She says airily, not expecting his approval at all.

His smile is almost evil, his arm wrapping around her waist as he guides her from the building. "You've been a good girl."

After dinner, they remain close to the dome, the focal point of Amity. The huge glass doors are left wide at the social gathering. With the sun having set over an hour ago, it left the sky illuminated by clusters of stars and a full moon beaming brightly, covering them in a tinged light. It drew everyone outside, along with the bearable evening temperature.

Sarah sits on the outside benches with Mary, cradling a sleeping Jack as they talk quietly, watching people and catching up on things they had missed. Mary tells her all about Mark mostly, how kind and attentive he had been recently, and their first date. She loved how easy they could drop back into their old ways and she had missed it greatly.

"So, how are things with Eric?" Mary suddenly changes topic, expectantly smiling at her.

Sarah looks down at Jack, tucking in a corner of his blanket to keep him warm, wondering just how specific she should get. "Okay," she replies and smiles apologetically.

Mary frowns. "Sarah, you can't just give me an 'okay'… Okay can mean a lot of things."

"More than okay, I guess." She briefly looks up at the moon. "It was a bit rough at first. But we have seemed to have found an even ground, sort of." With her free hand she plays with a gap on the table in distraction.

"But I suppose that means now you won't be coming back…" Mary can't help the disappointment in her voice, however manages to keep her small smile.

"I would love to. I want to be able to be with everyone."

"I understand."

"But I really mean that. I want to be able to be with everyone. But I-"

Mary reaches over and touches her hand. "I, more than anyone, understand. You have your own family now, and Eric is a part of that. Do you remember what I said before?"

"If you need me, you know I would be there, straight away." Sarah rushes, holding her hand tighter.

"Of course, and you know, Mother hasn't been all that bad." She waves a hand dismissively. "Meredith is being Meredith but somewhat less intrusive. I think the mess from before has made her changed her attitude."

"Yes, I think so. But it's a shame, I just feel like we will never truly get along. We're too different. I'd never be able to live with her again even if I tried."

Mary peers to the table. "I'm not like Mom, am I?"

"Oh god, Mary… No! What would make you say that?"

Mary sinks a little into her shoulders. "On nights like this, I think of Lizzie. I think she was like Mom."

"She was her own person. She wasn't like Meredith, but I feel she would've possibly been Dauntless."

"Do you remember that time she cut holes into Mom's blouse because she couldn't go to her friend's birthday meal?" Mary laughs on the memory.

"That's only because a few days before that she dropped all the dinner plates when Mother explained she should go to more after school activities to help the elderly."

They both laugh loudly. "She blamed the shirts on me because I'm the one with the kit." Mary's laughter falters and Sarah holds her hand tighter, trying not to let the heaviness in her own chest show.

"I think she is laughing with us right now."

A tear slips down Mary's cheeks. "I think so, too."

"I bet she is the most fiery, brightest star in the sky tonight. Maybe we should pick one out, and whenever we think of her, just take a moment to find it. The stars are always there, even in the day, we just can't see them." Sarah scans the sky quickly for the most obvious star, then points. "That one!"

Following her line of sight, Mary waves at it. "Hello, Lizzie." She sniffs, wiping her cheek quickly while looking over Sarah's shoulder. "Just like the stars are always there, so is Jack's father… he's coming this way." Sarah gives her hand one last squeeze before releasing it. "I'll take Jack now and I'll see you in the morning."

Sarah looks up in surprise, looking between her sister and the sleeping child. "Will you-"

"We'll be fine. I've had the full conversation with Eric at dinner."

Sarah briefly remembers Eric taking her sister to the side before joining them, but she is still surprised. "Oh, right…"

"Mark's my doorman all night." Mary untangles herself from the bench and rounds to Sarah, taking Jack carefully from her arms. "The rooms are amazing here," she says with a wink.

Sarah still can't help but worry, standing herself and stroking Jack's head. "How will I-"

Large hands grip her shoulders, pulling her back. "They are in the cabin next door, Sarah," Eric soothes her and she blushes, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes. "I have every faith in Mary." His words a more of a warning than anything else.

Mary's smirking and Sarah wonders what Eric had said to her, something that perhaps had nothing to do with Jack at all. "Have a good night..." Mary says, trailing off as she walks past them and straight to Mark who is waiting for her fully armed.

Sarah turns to Eric, feeling a bit lost without having Jack with her and puts her hand to her chest at the uncomfortable sensation. "Where have you been?"

"Johanna is now aware of Jeanine's role with the factionless. It fairs well after having explained it was also her pushing Abnegation on the movement, and put an understanding to her mysterious lack of cooperation lately."

"Cooperation with Dauntless or Amity?"

"Both." He scoffs. "She's only making it worse for herself." When Sarah frowns, he pulls on her shoulders towards him. "You wouldn't be scared now, would you?"

"I'm unsure of what else she is capable of, how big this whole situation has gotten and I never had a clue... And it frightens me." He brushes the knuckles of his fingers against her cheek while she tries to hide all of her worries that were portrayed so obviously on her face in that moment. "She'll blame me. What she did... almost worked. Because of me. She can erase a person…"

"You're overthinking. Stop." He brushes her hair away from her shoulder and cups her cheek reassuringly. "She'll be dealt with. I just have to do this the right way to not offend the other factions." He smiles, almost brilliantly but it was tainted. "Then I'll blow her fucking head off and any other's who's been under her command that would dare defy me." He seems to drift into thought, then adds, "...Knowingly." Insinuating her.

"I thought you were calling for a legal execution, and only her?"

"In words, yes. In actions, she'll resist and I'll use active force. Then we'll oblige a new leader under thorough observation… I have a heavy persuasive hand when it comes to traitors, Sarah."

Suddenly she felt weighted with his omission. Is that what he thought of her perhaps? A traitor? She can't linger on it because he rubs her shoulder, capturing her attention.

"Come with me. I want to show you something." Eric begins walking ahead, not waiting for her. She frowns at his retreating back, looking over her shoulder at the people enjoying themselves before noticing he'd almost disappeared into the darkness.

Wrapping her cardigan tighter with her arms crossed over her chest, she calls out to him, "Eric! Wait!" She wanders down the path he'd taken, sloping down towards a field and along a fence by high vegetation. She blinks and he's gone, right by an opening to a field.

She doesn't like the feeling of being lost beginning to creep up in her stomach. "Eric?" she whispers, stepping on the dirt track obviously created by the field workers. The brush is almost as tall as her, lightly rustling in the breeze. "Eric, stop messing around." Holding herself tighter, she walks further in and hisses, "I mean it!"

She shakes her head to herself, too scared to go any further and turns back. She almost screams with him standing behind her but can't because he grabs her.

"I kind of liked that game," his face is sneering, arms winding around her waist as she tries to back away from him.

"You are an idiot!" She whacks him pathetically.

"Ah, come on. I was only playing..."

"I thought you wanted to show me something! Not give me a heart attack!"

Keeping her close, he chuckles and uses a hand to push the small hairs away from her face. He tilts her head back to her surprise so he can peer into her eyes. "I wanted to show you how beautiful you would look in just the moonlight," Eric purrs, biting his lip while sizing her up. Sarah notices the glint from his piercings, especially when he raises his eyebrows provocatively.

"What?" she breathes as she glances to her shoulder from where her cardigan had fallen; where his eyes linger as the hint finally makes sense to her. "Do you... want me to take my clothes off?"

"Was I that obvious?"

"Well, you didn't exactly say it... Mr Coulter." She pulls away from him, shrugging off her cardigan as he pockets his hands and watches her every single movement.

"Are we using our surnames now?"

"It seemed appropriate." She shrugs while unfastening the workings of her gray dress. Letting it slide down her body to her feet, she smiles at him.

"Speaking of which," Eric pauses for a few seconds, his eyes appreciatively wandering down her body before meeting hers again. "I want to make sure Jack has got my surname."

She turns as he says it, unfastening her bra and feels warm knowing he is watching. Eric hums in appreciation as she lets it drop to the floor. "I could tell that got to you earlier."

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, just as Sarah peels away her underwear, and snaps a picture. "That woman always gets to me," he mumbles, stashing it before she turns around again. She looks at him expectantly and he motions her forward. "Come here."

Eric doesn't know what turns him on more, the fact that she obeys without questioning, or that she is completely naked in front of him. "What is going through your mind?" he hears her say when she reaches him, but his lust for her has him uncontrollably reach out, pulling her flush against him.

"Are we still being honest?" Sarah bites her lip at his question, nodding wryly. Each hand of hers is placed against his chest, not pushing him, but the fingers gripping the material of his jacket and pulling him down to her. "That you must like me, as you so comfortably took off your clothes without protest."

"My first kiss was still bad."

"If I can't remember, it never happened." He leans closer, ghosting against her lips.

"Jack happened."

"Oh, shut up."

Eric closes the gap, and he is welcomed by Sarah parting her mouth almost instantly. Their kiss is slow as his rough hands run up the delicate skin of her back, massaging into her neck when he moves to kiss down her jaw. Sarah begins to feel herself melting into him, allowing him to reach any skin he wanted. Illicit moans break from her throat, especially when he doesn't travel to the places she ached for him to.

When his mouth reaches her shoulder and hands glide around her hip to her stomach, she can't help herself anymore. "Touch me," she whispers.

Eric peels his head back, his eyes hooded, and she tries a poor attempt at controlling her ragged breathing. "Patience is a virtue," she hears rather then sees the smirk.

"You took both those things." She closes her eyes, mentally begging him not to end what he'd only just started. The whole experience thrilled her. The feeling of being caught or perhaps seen, made her heart race. And the fact that Eric was dressed and she was so vulnerable, knotted the muscles between her thighs pleasantly.

"Please," she begs, uncaring for the desperation in her voice. Gently cupping the side of his neck, she beckons him down with strokes of her fingers till their foreheads touch and she could tell he was holding back by his erratic breath fanning against her face. "Don't stop...please. I need you."

With a groan escaping his throat, Eric's mouth crashes back to hers unexpectedly, his fingers diving between her folds in an instant. She moans against him, unable to hold back as he so expertly lured the coil inside of her that was beginning to slowly unwind with his every movement.

Eric locks his eyes with hers. "Say it again." When she doesn't, he pushes hard against her clit with his thumb. "Say. It. Again, Sarah," he growls, his voice laden with lust.

"Don't stop!"

"No, sweetheart." He chuckles at her desperation and steadies her lolling head in his hand, tilting her chin down so she had to look up and concentrate only on him.

"...I need you."

Eric grins wickedly, and inside she can feel the way his stroke changes, the fingers curling and strumming differently from before. All she could do was support herself on crumbling legs and hold onto his jacket. She gasps, letting herself fall against him, her face pushed into his chest as she hisses out the sudden spasm in her body.

She's still coming down from her high when his arms wrap around her and hold her solidly, letting her take a moment to come round to her senses. Every breath she takes, she feels like she inhales a piece of him, and she didn't let go of his jacket, lingering in this moment.

She liked the notion of feeling small while next to him, his body produced a strange sense of protection and it brought back all the times she had missed him while being under his attention in this exact moment. Sarah wanted to tell him how she felt but didn't allow herself. It was obvious, and she wanted him to be graced with the feelings of love while not forcing it.

It didn't help her when she began to question the past. Would his ideas be the same? Would he tell her he was incapable? She hoped eventually with her subtlety he would be coaxed into it. But Eric was never forced and knew his own mind better than anyone; would he really be here with her if he didn't feel anything at all?

Maybe she couldn't say she loved him just yet. "I've missed you…" Her voice warbles as she mutters the words to him, her head turned to the side while he caresses his fingertips over her back. "...so much."

After their episode outside in the fields, Sarah got roughly dressed and Eric had walked her back to the hut they were staying in. It wasn't long till she withered underneath him again, repeating everything and anything he wanted her to. So what if it was a quick finish for the both of them, he'd had other plans - a curiosity, which was fully fulfilled now.

Eric was pretty happy with himself. Sarah would never leave him or betray him again. She literally couldn't, and he had made her say the words multiple times throughout the night.

"Say you're mine."

"I'm yours."

"Tell me you're sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"Beg...beg me…"

"Eric, please…"

The sun is just rising in the distance as he puffs on a cigarette by the door. The closest hut, a few yards away, he sees Mark putting a hand to his mouth, yawning and hunched over more than being alert in the early hours of the morning.

The air is warm, matching the sweltering temperature inside the room. He hadn't slept at all, and he hadn't wanted to. He wanted to devour the petite woman left sprawled unconscious to the world between the white sheets, a little worse for wear. Eric flicks the cigarette out by the door on the thought.

Rounding the bed to her side, he licks his lips at her pale skin, her back bare as she slept on her front and head tilted to the side, soundly asleep. Her hair was messily fanned around her head, at points still stuck against her skin from her efforts and lips looking red and puffy.

She could fuck, that was for sure. But it was the second time, when he'd wrapped his hand around her throat just enough that it turned her into a whimpering mess, he'd realized Sarah Bennett wasn't as innocent as she portrayed herself to be. No wonder she wouldn't change the way he would grab her hair when he took her, she wanted more than that, though she wouldn't say unless he was buried deep inside her.

"Pull my hair."

"Harder."

And surprisingly when he'd smacked her thigh, "Again."

He drops his boxers, his dick hard with everything presented so marvelously in front of him. He removes the loose sheets, hovering over her and she stirs, groggy and exhausted, but rightfully so.

"Eric, what are you-"

She's already wet when he opens her legs with his knees and bears his weight down on her back, caging her below him. Eric wasn't ready to let this moment go just yet, she needed to be taught a lesson. But she also needed rewarding for her smart mouth and punishment for the urge to be inside her that purged him multiple times throughout the day; to sate that alluring look that bedazzled him; to dull the bright eyes so that all she could remember later from that morning, is him, and nothing else.

Sarah grabs at his hand, nails biting into the soft pieces of flesh between his fingers as he pushes inside her. "I'm not finished with you," he whispers and feels her shudder underneath him. She'll regret everything she ever did to try and forget about him, even if that means fucking her senseless.

"You are mine." He thrusts harder, grabbing the persistently clawing hand and squeezes it for attention. "Say it."

"I'm yours, Eric. I'm yours…" she whimpers obediently.

"Damn right."

#bound by blood #chapter 9 #beautifulramblingbrains #eric and sarah #sequel #jai courtney #divergent #fanfiction #eric coulter #divergent eric fanfiction #insurgent

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meandmybumble · 8 years

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My head is a terrifyingly dangerous place at the minute. I am not even slightly ok.

Everything has snowballed and instead of everything in the world giving me anxiety and fear that I can kind of cope with and ignore by obliviously entering into a self destructive dissociative phase, I am so absolutely crippled by fear and “what ifs.”

I am so scared that I am “mental” and that every single bad thing that has happened to me (and let’s be frank my entire life has been a series of damaging, traumatising events) is a result of my mental-ness and that I deserve for those things to have happened. I’m terrified of that. I can’t explain how terrified I am. Not just because of how it will make me see myself but because then others will also think I am just a mental case who makes the bad things happen.

Obviously because I am definitely clearly crazy, obsessing over being crazy isn’t enough. I am plagued with worry and fear stressing that maybe I am not even mental at all and I am inventing all of this for attention and drama (two things I hate and strive to avoid more than anything) and I am paralysed with the fear of looking overdramatic and ridiculously humiliated when a Dr of some sort tells me I am absolutely fine and that I’m inventing all of this.

I am also terrified of being misunderstood and misdiagnosed by Drs because my head is so messy I can’t organise my thoughts enough to give accurate symptoms and examples of these plus also the fear of things not actually being true and that I’ve invented them. Which then leads me to be terrified that I’ll be given the wrong medication or the wrong course of treatment and that I will not only never get better but that I’ll get worse. This has lead me to overanalyse every single thing I do and say. Am I acting normal? Is this a symptom? Am I pushing people away? Fuck sake alesia stop rambling on incessantly because nobody cares…WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING… YOURE MAKING A FOOL OF YOURSELF AND YOU WONDER WHY YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF LOVE AND AFFECTION…JUST SHUT UP!

I am equally terrified of both being crazy and of not being crazy that I am abso-fucking-lutely making myself crazy/crazier than I have ever been.

I am terrified of being diagnosed with a mental illness most likely brought on by “childhood neglect and abuse” because even though I had a bad childhood, I was loved in the best way my parents could given everything that was going on (mostly my dad’s drug addiction and paranoid schizophrenia and the stillbirth of my baby brother that neither of my parents recovered from) but to ever have to tell my mum that or to have her Google whatever diagnosis I may or may not get and read that breaks my heart. I am scared of how my mum will react to my mental-ness because I don’t ever want her to feel like it is her fault that I am a terrible crazy person because it is my fault, my battle, my guilt and my shame to bear- nobody else’s. I’m also terrified of having to be completely dependent on medication because I am terrified my mum will think less of me as a person and because I will feel less of me as a person. Can you tell from my history of child neglect and abuse that all I have ever wanted is real love and approval from my mother???

I am scared that I am a terrible, toxic mental case and that I am poisonous to people around me. I am currently going through yet another phase of ignoring everyone that cares about me cos I don’t want to break them, bore them, annoy them. Also because I just cannot physically believe on any level that anybody actually genuinely cares about me purely because they just fucking care. My friends are telling me they’re struggling with things or need help/advice and I can’t even bear to be there for them because I am terrified to absolutely epic proportions that my thoughts/opinions/advice are mental and not healthy or helpful at all and I’m scared of hurting my friends or putting them into bad situations because they listened to my mental advice.

I’m scared that I will lose my job. I like this job and the people. But I am scared that either I will convince myself everyone hates me and quit feeling quite justified because everyone treat me like dirt or I will have some sort of a breakdown on shift in front of everyone and everyone will see how mental I am. I’m scared that if I get diagnosed with some condition or other that it will (rightly so) make my bosses see me differently if I tell them. Yet I am also worried that if I was to keep it a secret I’d be lying and deceiving them. I’m struggling with that right now- I feel like I’m deceiving them by not being honest (not in detail but ya know addressing the fact I’m clearly going through a dark, spiralling mental breakdown and damaging identity crisis)

As if worrying about everything isn’t bad enough. I am worrying about everything and also things I am imagining and then to really make sure I’m suffering as much as I deserve to suffer, I’m worrying about every single possible outcome/eventuality and even every single impossible outcome and eventuality.

I can’t make it stop. I’m so scared of feeling like this for the next X amount of months because the NHS massively massively fails people with mental health issues. I went to the Drs on Monday because I’m at such a LOW DESTRUCTIVE POINT that I’ve finally stopped ignoring and pretending that I don’t need help. I need help and I need it pronto. So the dr gave me absolutely no advice or information, no reassurance, no fucking drugs and told me he’d send an “urgent referral” I can only presume this is to a psychiatry team to assess my crazy properly. Only I have to wait up to 4 weeks and if I don’t receive anything my dr will send another URGENT referral and I am, again, to wait up to 4 more weeks in the highly probable case that this letter never shows up. And then it could be anywhere between weeks and months to the actual appointment date I’m terrified I’ll never actually receive. Last year I was referred for therapy and I’m still waiting for that letter.

I’m worried that I will feel like this, so full and heavy with worry and fear that I can barely get out of bed or leave my house, for the months it is probably going to take for me to be seen. I’m scared of feeling this way for so long because I literally cannot cope and it has only been 6 days. But then I’m scared that I won’t feel this way when the appt comes. What if I feel fine and happy and cannot even recall the bad things that happen/that I think that mean I can’t live any form of life? This just reinforces my fear of not actually being crazy at all. What if I convince myself I’m fine and normal and don’t even go to the appointment?

I’m scared. I’m terrified. I’m already picking apart every part of my “personality” because I do not know who I am but that certain aspects of my personality are actually just intense symptoms that I never knew were symptoms such as my crippling empathy for everyone and everything or the bouts of uncontrollable intense passion I have for things.

I’m scared that I’ve been like this forever so I rack my brain constantly all day every day trying to pinpoint a time I was normal. Trying to figure out if things “trigger” my episodes or if I just live continuously changing between episodes without any normality at all. Trying to work out if I’m normal right now or if this is some sort of episode. And yes, obviously this makes me terrified that I AM ABSOLUTELY 100% NORMAL STOP TRYING TO MAKE YOURSELF CRAZY YOU ARE A TERRIBLE ATTENTION SEEKING DRAMA QUEEN.

I just can’t stop being scared and worrying about every single little thing to the point I am inventing things to drain all my energy worrying about as if I don’t have enough genuine “normal” worries I should be focussing on and fixing.

And then on top of all of this- this post just being a mere few of the things flying round my head- I am absolutely paralysed with fear that I will get Annie taken away from me. I hate myself for ever going to the Drs or for actually telling people what I was going through last week because now I am accountable. Now I have to take steps to find out whether or not I’m absolutely bonkers and they are going to take my only piece of love and happiness away from me because I am bad for her. I am a bad mum and I am going to destroy her mind. Which then leads to me being absolutely certain that I am bad for her and that she would be better off with anyone other than me.

How do I make this stop? I can’t stop. All of this and more is spinning round literally every waking moment. Every day I wake up and think “this is it I’ve hit rock bottom” and then I break even more and find more things to worry about. I am scared of what rock bottom actually will mean for me.

#mental health #mental breakdown #broken #worry #fear #stress

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ecotone99 · 4 years

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Bipolar Disorder Wears Many Faces, and So Do I [MF]

I have Bipolar 1. There, I said it. It’s not something I usually talk about very much. I’m private about it because it’s something I really struggle with, and sometimes, I’m even embarrassed about it. Especially the times that I’m manic. But I’m not always manic- in fact, Bipolar has many different faces. For those of you who don’t know, there are three basic states you can be in when you have Bipolar 1: depressed, stable, or manic. Technically you can be hypomanic, too, which is a state of near-mania that is usually characterized by Bipolar 2, but the condition wears the same face as mania. Two of the states- mania and depression- are bad for different reasons. With mania comes irresponsible, life-changing decisions and high impulsivity. Mania is toxic to the brain and can cause someone to ruin their own life, but while you’re manic, you feel like you’re on top of the world. Depression brings with it suicidal ideations, feelings of hopelessness, and a deep despair that eats into the soul.

It was the end of April. I had had a rough go of it recently due to my manic episode in September and my subsequent depression in the following months. I had been absolutely crippled by this depression largely because of my mania. I had done so many things I was ashamed of, made so many decisions I regretted, but at the time I had been so happy and carefree. The months after that were spent picking up the pieces of the destruction I had left in my wake.

Now, though, it was almost summer. My summer classes would begin soon and I had work at the funeral home to keep me busy. I had more structure in my life, and things finally started to feel…better. I had recently moved, partly to get away from the ruin I’d left behind, partly for mortuary school. But mostly to get away. I was in a new place, on my own (except for my faithful pug), with a new career path and no friends or family in the area. I felt conflicted because part of me was lonely and nervous- this was the most “adult” I’d ever had to be- but the rest of me was so excited to begin a new life. This, coupled with a new therapist who finally got me on the right medication, helped me level out. I was actually able to experience joy again, this time without being destructive. I could finally put on my Stable Face.

I probably should have mentioned this, but when I said that Bipolar has many faces, I meant that literally. At least, in my case. I have three faces I can wear, but they will only look natural if my mood matches the face. For example, if I’m depressed and I try to wear my Stable Face, the flesh will be askew and the skin won’t line up like an ordinary human face. Think of the cockroach alien flesh suit from ‘Men in Black.’ Yeah, not so pretty. But you know what? Bipolar isn’t pretty either.

When I’m not using them, I keep my faces in a jar by the door. The little window lets in the perfect amount of sunlight for my faces to get their proper amount of vitamin D without having to actually set them outside. I’m sure the neighbors wouldn’t be pleased about that anyway. My Depressive and Manic Faces floated flaccidly in a mixture of formaldehyde and other preservatives that I managed to sneak home from work. Every year, I would change out the mixture and clean the jar.

Tongs in hand, I dangled my Stable Face over the kitchen sink and began to rinse off the chemicals. I made sure to scrub inside and out, especially around the holes for my eyes and inside the nose, because formaldehyde always makes my eyes and nostrils burn. Then, I gently patted it dry with a clean towel and ran my fingers across the loose skin. The brow was not furrowed like the Depressive Face I’d been wearing for so long, and the eye holes weren’t wide and wild like my Manic Face. No, this face was relaxed and at peace. It also wore the slightest hint of a smile, its lips turned up at the edges.

I brushed my hair back up into a bun and began to apply my Stable Face. For the first time in forever, it fit perfectly. I gently pasted down the edges to cover the exposed flesh and muscle tissue beneath the skin, then I looked in the mirror and flashed myself a smile. It actually looked genuine, and I could practically feel the endorphins rushing through my body. I added a little makeup, and voila! The perfect face. I looked at my reflection and felt confident and beautiful.

I was still admiring myself when I heard a noise. I was in the bathroom, so I didn’t hear the initial click of the jimmied lock, but I did hear the slight creak of the un-oiled hinge on my front door. My ears pricked up, and I heard my pug begin to growl from the entryway. Suddenly, she yelped and bolted into the bathroom with me. I scooped her up and closed the bathroom door with my back against it, heart beginning to race. Someone was in my apartment. I held my breath and tried to keep my dog as quiet as possible. The intruder was rifling through my things, looking for valuables. I cursed myself as I remembered that I’d left my purse right out in the open.

After a few minutes passed that seemed more like hours, I finally heard the door shut. I expelled my breath in a heaving sigh and placed my dog back on the ground. She had stopped whining, so that probably meant she couldn’t smell the intruder in the apartment anymore. I peeked around the edge of the bathroom door and into the front room. There was no one. I relaxed a little, stepping out of the bathroom and into the front room to check my purse.

Oddly enough, nothing had been stolen out of my wallet. The whole purse was untouched. I furrowed my brow and then had to reposition my forehead to undo it. I went to the front door and, sure enough, the lock had been picked. Shaking my head, I looked down at the small table to my right. On top of it sat my bowl of keys, and on the shelf beneath sat my jar of faces.

I mean…face. There was only one. Panicking, I picked up the glass jar and examined it from all sides. Still, there remained only one. My Depressive Face. Someone-the intruder- had stolen my Manic Face, the most dangerous of all my faces. With that face, some serious, serious damage can be done. Now, I’d never had anyone steal my faces before, so I wasn’t sure how this would all play out. Would my face fit on someone else? What would happen if they weren’t manic? How the hell was I going to get it back?

I thought hard about who could have possibly wanted to do this to me? The only people in the world that knew about my faces were me and my parents. I racked my brain for any enemies I might have made recently, thinking that maybe someone had come for revenge and instead found something so bizarre they had to take it. But they didn’t take both- just the one. Why? And how did they find out? I was on the verge of frustrated tears.

I’d had no visitors for weeks, maybe even months because of the depression I had just gotten out of. And I worried that with the extra fear I was now carrying I might need to slip my Depressive Face back on. I went to the mirror and adjusted my skin. It looked okay. Not perfect, but good enough to pass as a normal woman. I thought about calling the police about the break-in, but what would I tell them about what the intruder stole? I imagined a cop showing up at my house, leaning back with his hands in his pockets and examining my door.

“Yup, that lock’s been picked alright. Ain’t much we can do about it since they didn’t steal anything, just get your locks changed,” said the imaginary policeman. I huffed and called a locksmith, then I took my pug and left the apartment to go to the park. I just needed to get out of there for a bit, every second I was in there I felt like I was being watched. I made sure I hid my extra face. Once we were at the park, I read and my dog played, and for a moment, everything was forgotten.

That changed when I got back home. It was late in the evening by that time, and I was exhausted from the sun exposure and emotional trauma of the day. I’d just bid the locksmith goodbye as he finished up. I didn’t feel like cooking, so I ordered a pie from Papa’s Pizza for takeout rather than delivery. I’d gotten delivery from there the whole time I was depressed, and I was ready to get off my ass and out of the house, even if I wasn’t fully up to cooking my own food yet. What better way to relax than eating comfort food?

I kissed my dog on her forehead the way I always do before I leave the house, even if it’s just for a short while. I triple-checked that the new lock was secured before leaving to pick up my food. Then, I hopped in my car and put on some Zeppelin. I lost myself in the music and drove to the restaurant under a cloudy, darkening sky. When I arrived, I sat in the parking lot so that the song I was listening to could finish, then I got out and slammed the door behind me. My feet crunched on the gravel as I swung open the glass door and entered the establishment. I strolled up to the bored-looking middle-aged man at the register and gave him my name. He looked up at me.

“So you’re the special customer Katy was talking about. She loved your tips, man. Shame she was fired,” he said, and reached around to grab my pizza. Gears turned in my head.

“Fifteen, even.” Katy. Katy…that was the name that always popped up on my delivery app. She was the girl who had been consistently delivering me pizzas for months now- the only person that could have peeked inside my apartment and seen my faces. It had to be her.

“Wait, why was she fired?” I asked slowly, reaching into my purse to fish for my wallet. He shrugged.

“Started acting fuckin’ crazy. Kept saying her face was falling off, or something.” I bit my lip and nodded, trying to keep a straight face, no pun intended. I handed him the cash.

“Right, right. Did she say where she was going, by any chance?” He shrugged again.

“Just home, I guess. Said she didn’t need a job anymore anyway because she just became a millionaire.” I sighed. Classic mania. It all hit too close to home.

“Alright,” I said as he gave me change for the twenty, “Where is ‘home,’ then?” The man snorted.

“How should I know? I don’t look at employee records.”

“Well, could you show them to me?” He rolled his eyes.

“Ma’am…” he started.

“I’m gonna stop you right there. First of all, I am way too young to be a ‘ma’am.’ Second, you’re gonna show me that record,” I said, acting more confident than I actually felt. This time, he actually laughed. It was more like a hee-haw.

“Or what?” I hesitated for a second, then I had an idea. Tearing at the delicate glue that I’d used to paste my face to my head, I ripped off my Stable Face and showed him the raw, pulsating, muscular, exposed, gruesome tissues beneath. Immediately, a wet spot started to form in his jeans.

“Rah!” I screamed at him, lunging forward menacingly. Then, he passed out. I admit I had to stifle a giggle as I rearranged my face to the best of my ability. I’d never shown that to anyone except my parents.

Focus, I told myself. I walked behind the counter and wandered into the back of the store. The office was the first door on my right down the hallway that led from the kitchen. I approached the file cabinet and opened the top drawer. ‘Financial Statements,’ it read. I closed it. In the second drawer, I found what I was looking for. ‘Employee Records.’ I found Katy’s resume in the ‘Shred’ folder. Her address was listed right at the top. Perfect, now I knew where I needed to go.

I left the pizza parlor after repositioning the unconscious man so that he wouldn’t wake up with a kink in his neck. Then, I took my pizza and headed straight to Katy’s, eating in the car along the way. When I got there, there was only one car in the driveway. I hoped she lived alone.

I knocked on the door, softly at first, but then louder after there was no answer to the first knock. A light flicked on in the doorway and I heard footsteps approach. Slowly, the door opened, but only just a crack.

“What is it? What do you want?” said a gruff female voice.

“Katy? It’s me, Isabelle, your best customer. I think you have something of mine?” I heard her gasp on the other side of the door. She paused to consider her next move, then sighed and opened the door fully. It was me. I mean, she was me. It was like looking in a mirror, except the body was different. She had my face, and it was a face I was oh, so familiar with. Wild-eyed and not quite lucid, but damn, it fit her perfectly.

“You can come in. Sit over there on that old couch, I’m tossing it tomorrow and buying all new furniture for this place.” I didn’t sit.

“Katy, I know you must have a lot going on, but I need my face back,” I said patiently.

“Well yeah, this is the busiest I’ve ever been in my life, so I’ll make this quick. Look, it’s not like I wanted to steal your face. I actually never even noticed the jar on your shelf until my own face started to peel off one day. And then I robbed you, and everything changed! Oh, my life is just perfect now! I’m gonna sell the house and buy a big van, you know? Like, the old-fashioned Volkswagen buses? And I’m gonna travel across the country and live off of the land. I’ll be blogging and taking photos the whole time if you want to follow my adventures- after all, it will be your face that makes me famous. Tell you what, we can even split the profits!” She spoke with such genuine zeal and excitement, I couldn’t bear to be the one to tell her that she was just delusional, that it didn’t make sense to buy new furniture for a house she that was planning to sell, that her life didn’t change at all- she did. And now she was about to destroy herself without help.

“Katy, listen to me,” I said, formulating a plan in my mind, “I’m gonna make you a promise, okay? If you give me back my face, your life is going to get so much better. And I can take you to a place full of people who will recognize all of your faces, and just how beautiful each of them are. But they have to be your own.” She blinked at me, skeptical. I continued.

“Look, bring me your face, the one that fell off.” She shrugged and went to fetch it. When she brought it out and I looked at it, I felt a pang of sympathy. She was so beautiful, yet she couldn’t accept herself. Her flesh had rejected itself. I gently took the face in my hands. It had only been a day, so the fact that she hadn’t preserved it in formaldehyde wasn’t that big of a deal. I would have to tell her about that trick, though.

“Now, can you do something for me? It’s not going to be easy, but I need you to trust me, because I’ve stood in your shoes before. I need you to give me back my face, and then you need to face yourself. We’re going to patch you up as best as we can, and then we’re going to go on the most important adventure of your life.” Katy nodded and bit her- my- lip. We went into the bathroom together and I helped her by getting my long fingernails under the edge of the skin to peel off the rest of the face. Once it was off, I sighed with relief, then I folded it up and slipped it into my purse.

“Okay. This isn’t going to be perfect, but we’re gonna do our best,” I said. After a half hour of glue and two hours of makeup, she looked reasonable enough to pass as a slightly-deformed woman. By the time I got her to the hospital, I knew that she would be in capable hands and that her face would readjust alongside with her medications over time. The medical staff would probably be baffled. I think she realized what was happening on the car ride over, but she didn’t try to fight me. Deep down, she knew that something was wrong and that she needed all the help she could get. I let her eat the rest of my cold pizza.

Once they were ready to take her back, we exchanged a hug and waved goodbye. I slipped her a small piece of paper with my phone number on it.

“Sometimes it gets lonely in there, so… Just call anytime.” She smiled genuinely at me as a tear rolled down her own cheek.

“Thanks, Isabelle. Things are going to change again, aren’t they?” Her voice cracked.

“Yeah, they’re gonna change. But remember when I said that this is the most important adventure of your life. It might be grueling, and sometimes you might even hate it. But it’s a path you’ve gotta take.” Katy nodded.

“The most important adventure of my life,” she echoed thoughtfully. I gave her hand one last squeeze before they took her away. I knew we would keep in touch.

It’s been a year since Katy stole my face, but in that time, she’s managed to build faces of her own, and I’m proud to say that she’s been wearing her Stable Face consistently for 9 months now. I’ve still got mine on, too. We’ve still got a long way to go, but now, we get to be our best selves, and we’re doing it together. I can’t wait to see what face she’ll be wearing when I pull out the engagement ring tonight.

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