#meanwhile she’s telling me about how she’s actively ignoring her therapist and i just don’t know what i could possibly say or do that she’d

[existentialintrovert]

.

[zeussim]

So I just discovered my journals from when I got therapy and my dad told the psychologist that he thought I was too thin-skinned compared to the issues I'd had socially.

When I was 10 no one wanted to talk with me. I always had to spend the entirety of my mental energy engaging in their interests and conversations. And continue smiling even as they turned their backs on me and ignored me. When I was 10 I began having suicidal thoughts.

A few days after my grandfather died I had to listen to them calling me selfish and egoistic, circling me. All because I wanted to fetch a teacher since we didn't have one. No one came until 30 mins later and even then the insistent ones followed and taunted me. The principal scolded them but I still had to sit there with them. My mom wouldn't let me go home.

I began trying to do portraits of my "friends" in order to gain their affection, which obviously didn't work. No one liked me and would automatically turn their backs on me, when I tried approaching them. They made me feel like I didn't belong anywhere. Whenever I tried telling my mom, she would lament that it was nothing.

I had one friend I played violin with so I thought we were close, but she was affected by the rest and would push me away and tell me to keep the "personal sphere" aka I had to keep my distance. Which made me feel like an unwanted beast. Often she and her friend would actively run away from me when I wanted to play or talk with them.

When I smiled or laughed, they would tell me I laughed too much. When I asked if I could join a game, no one replied. When I asked someone to go for a walk with me, they only did it to use me as their own personal therapist. I spoke very little since no one wanted to talk with me. And my mom has only ever known talking to someone.

I can't remember more than this right now. Most of the days are smashed together since they were all the same: me sitting alone, even when I was supposed to have a deskmate, but they moved away because they didn't like sitting next to me. While drowning.

So yeah this is what broke me. And then of course having a narcissistic parent, who liked telling me I needed to toughen up, stop crying, put some effort into the home, and never get annoyed with him even when he constantly tells me everything I do is wrong. And that I should treat him with respect while he purposely crosses the line several times with the excuse that he's trying to "toughen me up". And I can't explode or tell him that it hurts me, it'll only make it worse. And he'll start laughing as I tell him how I feel about the way he talks to me. He thinks it's funny, a game.

When I don't respond to him crossing my boundaries, he just keeps on pushing. He wants me to react, explode. So he can blame me and feel better about his little self. And then when I've finally had enough, he uses that as an excuse to either laugh or explode.

When I've left the table after an argument, I can hear him talking about me behind my back. Talking about how egoistic, awful and evil I am. Don't worry he also calls me evil to my face. And all my mom can focus on is herself and how hard it is for her that he's like that. She often says "What about me? How do you think I feel?"

His grand argument is that he's my father and therefore has the right to treat me as his personal experiment because he's bored. He wants me to be both sharp and intelligent but also meek and obedient.

Meanwhile all my mom can say is to ignore him. Ha! I refuse to ignore someone when they try to hurt me. I absolutely refuse to lie down and just take it. I'm not that weak. And my daddy dearest has taught me so many things that I now know exactly how to respond. How to make him lose his temper, divert his attention and make him laugh.

Though these things aren't always foolproof since something that makes him laugh one day, may make him ballistic the next. Not knowing whether he's angry or pretending, since he enjoys pretending to be angry. The best is when I make him so angry, he goes to his room and won't talk for days like it's a punishment.

Well, this evolved into something. In any case, I am just in a bad mood right now and this does not reflect my overall mood. It's also because I read my old journals and it brought up a lot of trauma. I am feeling well overall and I'll feel even better when I move away in 1-2 years.

[gaawachan]

Critical Role 127 Discord Discussion

*Content warning, discussions of trauma, toxicity, toxic masculinity, implied projection, violence, strong language, etc*

*this is a conversation between two AFAB people with PTSD about Critical Role.  It is a bit uncharitable at times, but try to understand that it's coming from a place of hurt and frustration.  There are brief references to our own trauma, and discussions about social pressure and unsafe handling of traumatized individuals.  Please note that NONE of this is directed at the Critical Role cast*

Also, sorry to any Veth fans we’ve offended, but it’s not so entertaining when you’ve had people like that in your life messing with your ability to heal in a healthy way.  Sometimes the media we consume is unintentionally hurtful... as is the meta surrounding it.  Please try to remember who might be reading your posts.

Sibling: (regarding a post about how Veth drew first blood in sanatorium) That's TRUE! VETH SHOT FIRST "oh wow what a cold-blooded murderer" fuck off with that lol

Me: ngl I dislike Veth at this point. She's outright toxic to Caleb in a way that makes me really uncomfortable.

Sibling: How dare she call him that when her first impulse in ANY SITUATION is to kill... and she dragged him to the hall he was abused in and condemned him for killing people as swiftly as he could.

Me: She's by far the most bloodthirsty, the whole group (but especially her) keep pushing him into situations he doesn't want to be in and then they clutch their pearls as he mops up the mess THEY pressured him into.

Sibling: I honestly wish Caddy had gone instead of Jester, but I understand why he couldn't.

Me: At EVERY TURN, even before Molly died, they pushed him and put him in dangerous situations he didn't want to be in and then they're like GASP he kills people really fast oh no!

Sibling: I mean, what I don't get is that... yeah, visually the deaths seem horrible. HE MADE SURE THEY DIED AS QUICKLY AS-AS THAT LADY FROM HITMAN WHO GETS SQUASHED IN THE GIANT PRESSER.

Me: No one else in the party gets pressured to do things they don't want to do quite like Caleb does.  Maybe Caduceus, early on.  But they are CONSTANTLY doing this to Caleb at every turn.  Fjord is probably the only one who consistently tries to avoid doing that. Everyone else gets the whole "we'll support whatever you choose to do" treatment. Not Caleb.

Sibling: but yeah, Beau seems... okayish about it? But I wish she'd kept her mouth shut about Astrid. Why should he have to hear what someone complicit in his abuse and others' is "feewwing"? She's using him and she's using the 9.

Me: It makes me so angry, because Caleb, more than any other member of the party, really ought to be given respect for his own autonomy and wishes, ESPECIALLY with regards to his past! They don't just pressure him to do things he doesn't want to do with respect to his past (and other situations, too) but they demand that he do what they think he should while holding the motives they think he should have while doing so. It's not enough that he go after Trent, he has to police his own feelings and do it for the right reasons.  Which is really disgusting because all of them are clearly chomping at the bit to kill Trent out of revenge, but Caleb's supposed to want to kill Trent for the greater good. Like seriously FUCK OFF.

Sibling: EXACTLY.  HE SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO MAKE HIS OWN DECISIONS. It's the expectation of: "You should feel and do these things in regards to your trauma, because doing anything else makes us uncomfortable." Don't we know that fucking feeling. You don't even have to like how you're feeling and other people still get to dictate what is and isn't acceptable.  It's genuinely appalling.

Me: I think it's really gross how supportive the group is of each other when it comes to all their various problems, but with Caleb, they are constantly pressuring and challenging him and NOT IN A GOOD WAY.

Sibling: I felt Veth and Caleb's personal exchange was sweet, but I'm right back to feeling that she needs to go when they go to Nicodranas, just... just stay with your family. Bring back Taryon or something.

Me: If this last episode was proof of anything, it's that forcing Caleb to confront his past because others in the party want him to is nothing short of abusive behavior on their parts.

Sibling: Not to mention the condemnation of how he handles the thing they pressured him to do.

Me: And I have thought this even before he told Beau and Molly about Trent, because Caleb didn't want to participate in that tournament thing in Zadash that put him back on Trent's radar. And after he told them, did he ever get an apology from those who pressured him to participate in that?  No.

Sibling: ... I just don't understand the 9. Caleb... It'd be like how they treated Fjord in regards to Avantika, honestly.

Me: But frankly she (Veth) has been repeatedly very cruel to him in a very casual way.

Sibling: Totally, wtf, she says she loves him but she acts like she thinks he’s an awful person- a useful awful person.

Me: And I should be clear, I've tried really, really hard to give her the benefit of the doubt, and she just keeps doing it over and over.

Sibling: Dude, same. I thought we got Nott back, and was feeling good until recently.

Me: And the thing that pisses me off most of all is that Caleb HAS made clear what HE wants at this point, and the party just... glossed over it.  Caduceus said he approved of Caleb's stance, but... That doesn't mean anything if you don't actively push back against the pressure the other party members apply.

Sibling: As I've said before, I want Caduceus and Caleb to have this talk and yet I realize that he's not that kind of counselor. I don't see Ducey as an advocate... he has no idea what Caleb went through and doesn't have the skills to help him cope; he's a grief counselor, not a therapist.

Me: What Caleb needs is input from people who aren't so pushy about this.  Fjord is a good choice but, like Caddy, he's shown that he won't step in and be like "how about we do what CALEB wants?"

Sibling: And... they're able to semi-acknowledge Beau's trauma but not Caleb's? Fjord honestly is the closest thing to an advocate Caleb has but he... he's also too passive.  He doesn't care if Caleb does something he'll regret and also doesn't care that other people are pushing him into doing things he'll regret.

Me: Honestly this is why I was HOPING that Essek would get to know the party better, because for all his faults, Essek generally has a cool head and I think he WOULD push back against the others and say that, especially with his experience with the Assembly. I think that Essek would definitely support Caleb's perspective more than the others and he's not afraid to push back with his opinions.

Sibling: Shadowgast forever. Even if it dismays the Widojest fans, who apparently don't like shipping Caleb with people who are morally questionable. Despite the fact that Jester was willing to dupe a ton of people into putting their lives in danger for an imaginary friend.

Me: (not touching ship wars with a ten foot pole, tyvm) I think if Essek saw the way the party members were pressuring Caleb with respect to Trent in particular, he'd be a bit taken aback because he's seen how amenable to the wants of his friends Caleb is.

Sibling: Essek did what Essek wanted to and it got him into trouble. Caleb is helping other people and doing exactly what others tell him to, feeling what others want him to, trying to please them, and it's getting him into trouble. They could do with a bit of reigning in for each other.

Me: Ngl, if this mess gets Caleb killed, I'm going to lose it.

Sibling: Well, I mean... If Caleb dies at all, I'm going to lose it... especially because his blood will be on the 9's hands and I'm not sure if, like Molly, he would want to come back. Which is awful to say but I wonder if someone so... hurt wouldn't just... let it happen.

Sibling: I sort of got it from a player's perspective in regards to Ducey? The cast was bored and weren't really interested in Cad's story so they messed around and ignored him... But like, this? This is... "We need to see Caleb's story arc because we haven't yet, even though it doesn't make sense right now and we're already on a time limit"

Me: That's true... IT MAKES ME SO MAD.  When they finished the spell for Veth and tricked Isharnai, Cale let her take time to think before they removed the curse.  He didn't even fully understand why she needed that time but he gave it to her.  And again, on Rumblecusp for Jester, he was like "here is what I can offer.  What do you want me to do for you?  I am here for you."  AND THEY NEVER DO THE SAME THING IN TURN.  WHEN IT'S HIS TURN, THE PARTY IS LIKE "HERE IS WHAT WE WANT YOU TO DO AND HOW WE WANT YOU TO FEEL ABOUT IT."

Sibling: It's true. I'd go so far as to say Caleb's self-destructive in that respect.

Me: Maybe I'm being uncharitable, but this has been going on for 127 episodes and it hasn't gotten any better! They're STILL doing this and they're not even being half as supportive about it the way they were with Jester's angst about Artagan!  And Caleb is almost as young as Jester mentally!

Sibling: No, I don't think you're being uncharitable. They treat Caleb like they know what's best for him and not one has bothered to ask him- SERIOUSLY ASK HIM- "Do you want to deal with this now, later, or not at all? because it's okay if you don't want to deal with it. That's your choice."

Sibling: Can you imagine if they were as supportive to Caleb as they were to Jester about her "pedoy-creeper" imaginary friend? Meanwhile Caleb's backstory has ACTUAL TONES of sexual abuse and they're just like hahaaha, don't you want to go back to the torture prison?? You can get some anti-spy necklaces, it'll be good but don't kill anyone there even if they were complicit in your abuse...

Me: AND THEN RESPECT THAT CHOICE. They do not, DO NOT, get to clutch their pearls over Caleb killing people in the sanatorium after all this time.  THEY pressured him to do this, THEY ALREADY KNEW this would be awful for him, THEY'VE ALREADY SEEN WHAT HE'S LIKE in these situations, and THEY ARE JUST AS MURDEROUS AS HE IS.  When other party members kill people, it's no big deal, but when Caleb is faced with people who imprison and experiment on and torture people like him (ONLY FIVE-SIX YEARS AGO HE WAS IN THERE) and he kills them and they have the audacity to be upset as if they haven't killed dozens of other people for far weaker reasons!

Sibling: ... Actually, do you think it's a sexism thing? They're not addressing Caleb's massive elephant in the room because there's a cute gal who has mild creeper overtones in her backstory?

Me: Yes, I absolutely do. If Caleb was a cute girl, they would be far more emotionally supportive and would not be pressuring him in this way. It absolutely wouldn't happen.

Sibling: Like, they punched the crap out of Artagan, which like, cool, but what did he do to Jester? He screwed over other people and there's some mild undertones of gross manipulation when she was little. Trent canonically abused the Blumentrio when they were children and then stripped Caleb's ability to say "no" from him for 11 years...

Me: It's not just because he's a boy, but he also looks older than he is- early thirties instead of early twenties, and I'd argue that his five years on the streets barely count for mental maturity, too- so they don't give him the same kind of unabashed emotional support, because they still code him as someone "unstable/misled" who needs to be "guided/controlled," hence the constant pressuring and questioning.

Me: No, and that's the thing. The thing that hangs over this in particular. The party barely knows anything about the abuse he suffered and they, including Caleb, know almost nothing about what he endured in the asylum. I can't even imagine how horrifying it is to be there. Just think about it.

Sibling: I have, and I can empathize

Me: Every time he saw one of those guards, you know he had to think... "Did this one hurt me?  Did this one?  Do they know?  They have to know.  There's no way they don't know even if they didn't participate... I was here just a few years ago... Did one of them hurt me?  Did one of them touch me?  Did one of them see me?! I CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER IF THEY HURT ME BUT THEM JUST BEING HERE MEANS THEY ARE HURTING PEOPLE LIKE ME." How is anyone, even someone who wasn't tortured and brainwashed as a teenager, supposed to handle that?

Sibling: I know how much it can fuck you up IRL to be abused. Can you imagine 11 years of that??? Fuck no, it was awful just the few times it happened but that was his TRAINING before it was his PRISON. And then his "friends" call him a murderer. Cold, cruel. And that's the thing... I don't know if Caleb will ever open up to anyone about it. Maybe Essek, but certainly not Veth. Veth doesn't care unless she can get something out of it.

Me: It's shocking to me that no one in the party seemed to even consider what a horrible thing it was to do to bring Caleb back there.  It speaks to how little consideration they actually have for his feelings on any meaningful level.

Sibling: The only person I can think of who might have an excuse is Caddy because I don't think he's had that specific talk with Caddy. And he never will, because those characters never fucking talk.

Me: No, when they were in Rexxentrum, he clarified some things. He told them that Trent would hurt him and then apologize after the fact, and about his parents, and in Felderwin he did tell them about the experiments, and they knew that he was kept in the asylum for eleven years.

Sibling: Ugh, you're right. I mean I feel like I just don't understand the 9 right now. Caleb... It's a lot like how how they treated Fjord in regards to Avantika, honestly. In fact, I keep drawing parallels to Fjord.

Me: Yeah, that was terrible.

Sibling: It's another "ughh he's a boy he needs to deal with it" rather than "that was awful and I'm sorry" "what can we do to help" And honestly fuck that mindset.

Me: And remember; Caleb was the only one to consider that what happened with Avantika would be hard on Fjord, and even said to Beau and Nott that they needed to be supportive... and then they just ignored him.

Sibling: How dare they treat Jester, who... I'm sorry, what's her trauma again? She was stuck inside for a while... nvm, why is she being treated with more care than Caleb and Fjord, who've both had actual abusive experiences... and the answer is that they've got dicks, and that means they don’t need concern and care. They can deal with it themselves, they have to be MANLY and cope with violence, but also violence is bad and you shouldn't engage in it... "how dare you strike back at the abusers we told you to strike back at?"

Me: Yes.  That is exactly it, and don't forget this:  When the party first met Nott and Caleb, they assumed that Caleb was a FUCKING PREDATOR preying on Nott.  Why?  Because he's a homeless man in his apparent thirties, and she was small.

Sibling: Critical Role and the Assumed Nature of People w/ Penises

Me: The best thing Nott ever did for Caleb was correct the record on that bullshit.

Sibling: But again, that's Nott, not Veth. God I miss Nott.

Me: That was back when he was a surrogate for her family and her hope for becoming herself again.

Sibling: I just.... I don't understand what changed; she cared for Caleb even if it was for her own gain... why is she still manipulating him if she has nothing more to gain?

Me: It was Felderwin (when it started to change).  But she's doing it now because it will make it easier for her to leave guilt free.

Sibling: Then leave... Don't hang around with a "murderer" if you're going to pretend you haven't done your fair share of slaughtering yourself- fuck, she even drew first blood in that fight, WHY?!

Me: You don't get to put someone into a position where they have to kill people and then get upset and call them a murderer when they kill people.  If Veth had just shot and killed the guy in one turn, do you think she'd get that kind of reaction?  No. But because it's the traumatized young man who was trained to be a murderer as a teenager, it's somehow particularly bad when he kills... when he has no choice but to do so?! Ridiculous.

Sibling: I just find it so weird that the ACTUAL murder hobo of the group is pointing at another member and calling him the murder hobo. He has killed people, he was a hobo, but the people who have truly done disgusting things over the course of the campaign is not the hobo who is a murderer. It's the Chaos Crew. Beau killed a person with acid when she had a knife readily available... and you know... could have snapped his neck to begin with... not that the party knows that but.

Me: That's what I EXPECTED Beau to do!

Sibling: The GROUP was all horrified and shocked when Caleb quickly and swiftly took out the guards of the torture dungeon but Beau let a man suffer for fucking MINUTES while acid burned out his throat and he suffocated and STILL DIDN'T DIE until she had to finish him off... and Beau killed that man near Caduceus' family, threw his head in the water.

Me: Remember when Nott killed that guard in Uthodurn?

Sibling: Veth has killed so many people when they didn't need to, but no. Using quick, lethal methods to dispatch guards (much, MUCH BETTER than burning) is too far.

Me: NONE of them are pushed back on in the same way, and none of them are pressured to act/feel a certain way, and ALSO... The party has ONLY benefited from this side of Caleb. It is the ONLY reason that Fjord, Yasha, and Jester are alive, because he went into that space to save them in the Sour Nest.  It is the ONLY reason they took down Avantika as easily as they did, because he went all out in that fight. It is the ONLY reason they got Yeza out and made friends with the Dynasty, because he was willing to do something that got him scolded- SCOLDED- by the group even though it saved them and HE was the one losing out more than any other by giving up the beacon! And it is therefore the reason they were able to use their clout in the Dynasty to END THE WAR. They benefit from this headspace Caleb falls into and then condemn it at the same time. Don't want him to be that way?  Stop putting him in situations where he HAS TO BE THAT WAY.

Sibling: Caleb is the glue for the M9, has saved them more times than they can count. Time, traveling and in combat, and they're still demanding he address his trauma in ways that make them comfortable. Despicable, and honestly? Toxic.

Me: And now he may fall back into the hands of his abuser because of it. I've been thinking of this ever since the peace talks that it was such a shame that Essek was the traitor because Caleb really, really could have benefited from having a true safe space in Rosohna. What a shame it is that Essek was working for THEM, and broke Caleb's trust, and now Rosohna doesn't feel like a place he can really go to anymore.

Sibling: He still can. If Essek survives, go live in your wizard tower, resummon it every single day, and live life away from both sides of the war.

Me: No, I agree. Probably the worst thing that people keep pressuring Caleb on is not revenge. It's what they keep implying he ought to do after Trent is dead. He DOESN'T WANT to be part of the government. He just wants the scourger program to stop.

Sibling: He owes the government NOTHING. It has only hurt him. He doesn't need to be forced to pick up the mess that OTHER PEOPLE CAUSED because he was affected by it.

Me: He just wanted to teach magic ffs.  That breaks my heart. Like, what a terrible thing... to tell someone who already thinks he doesn't deserve to be happy, that he should spend his life in a job he DOESN'T WANT in order to fix things that PEOPLE WHO WRONGED HIM DID. Because he could cave in and do it; he hates himself, and that's the true grossness of all the pressure the party puts on Caleb. His self-loathing makes him inclined to just give in and do what they say, because his own desires will end up stifled by theirs.

Sibling: I think the thing that's weird to me though? Is that... other cast members don't... seem to see that. Even in the Talks Machina segments. Liam has expressed how profoundly damaged Caleb is and the cast, not just the party just... doesn't seem to mind? And I honestly, HONESTLY think it's sexism.

Me: Yeah, remember how sweet they were to Calianna? >_> Less trauma with actions just as bad, and yet... "CALEB WHY ARE YOU DOUBTING AND DISTRUSTING HER" - said the people who non-stop doubt and distrust Caleb.

Sibling: I do completely agree that the way the 9 have been handling Caleb's trauma is encapsulated by last week's episode... I think it: 1) Has a lot to do with sexism and 2) Has a lot to do with the cast rushing his arc before the Eiselcross arc is completed. This doesn't feel like his choice to enter his arc. This feels like his hand was forced to address trauma before he was ready and I don't think that's a great look for the 9.

Me: It makes me sad, too, because I feel like with the careless way the Nein handle Caleb's past... I just don't see any way for things to end well for Astrid and Wulf, to be honest.  There's no way these buffoons won't fuck up any chance at those two being redeemed. And I'm not even crazy about the prospect of them being redeemed, but if there's any chance for it... it won't be Caleb that fucks it up.  It will be the other members of the Nein, I just know it.

Sibling: No, they'll force a romance that won't be any less toxic than it was before. Because a woman needs to heal Caleb's wounds. *pukes*

Me: GOD AND THEN... Like, they all want revenge on Trent even as they pretend that Caleb shouldn't and needs to do things for the greater good, but... the thing is that if they really, really wanted justice for Caleb... Why, why, WHY are they not coordinating with the COBALT SOUL  to take Trent down?! That is their ACTUAL BEST AVENUE for doing so! And Caleb would be far more safe and comfortable doing that!

Sibling: "Because the Cobalt Soul is Beau's arc and we want to do Caleb's arc"

Me: Beau gets a trial for her trauma... Caleb gets called a stone-cold murderer for being forced to confront his directly. Then stop pressuring him into direct confrontations with his trauma!

Sibling: Sexism, I'm telling you.  She's a laddyyyy

Me: And more and more I'm thinking that the 8th floor of the tower is actually a really healthy thing for him to do, because it's obvious that he's never going to be able to healthily process his trauma in a way that's under his control with the Nein constantly pressuring him to confront it in dangerous, unsafe ways that he doesn't want to. It's amazing to me that they balked at the 8th floor of the tower but have no problem MAKING HIM INTERACT DIRECTLY WITH THE ASSEMBLY AND THE SANATORIUM.

Sibling: And here's my thought regarding that... He can change the tower. When he doesn't need those rooms anymore, he will change them. As he has for his friends. That's a sign of healing. It's a scar that will heal, and that he has power over.

Me: Yes, yes, exactly! And the thing about it is... It's like photos, you know? And no one can actually hurt him in that space.

Sibling: He doesn't have the power over his place of abuse. Old photos can be used to safely address old trauma... walking into the torture-prison and whining about the people you hurt in there is just...

Me: ... It reminds me of the sequence in Tales of Berseria, where they torture Velvet simply by revealing hidden knowledge about the past to her, or Tales of the Abyss, where Luke finds out he was made to do something horrible and it breaks his ego. They are literally putting Caleb into situations where something like that could happen to him every time he meets Astrid or Trent or goes to a place where he will be triggered. I mean full-on total mental breakdown.

Sibling: Honestly? that's what I am expecting and it still could happen.

Me: All it would take is some sort of reveal about those eleven years. Or that night. Or something... and he could just shatter to pieces, and they haven't seemed to have even considered that. It's unbelievable. I'm terrified of a "You destroyed the pillar that supported Akzeriuth.  You committed more atrocities you can’t even fathom" moment for Caleb. ;_;

Sibling: stop, god, I can't I would literally have a meltdown like this if Caleb was forced to regress because he wouldn't regress like Beauregard... he would regress, like any abused child to being hurt again.

Me: But we don't know WHAT THEY DID TO HIM... Not fully. I mean the asylum, too, because it's not just that they could have done anything to him in that place. It's that they could have MADE HIM DO THINGS.

Sibling: They abused him, experimented on his body with residuum, and broke his mind. Why would any of that have stopped, when he was literally at Trent's summer house?

Me: And worse still, Trent has ALREADY TRIED TO CAUSE SUCH A BREAKDOWN. He tried to blue-screen Caleb repeatedly at the dinner with comments about his parents. We ALREADY KNOW that he wants to provoke some sort of breakage in Caleb, so why, WHY would you pressure Caleb to go back to that place?!

Sibling: Not to mention, (fucking IDIOTS) THAT ASTRID SENT HIM THERE. SHE WORKS WITH TRENT. SHE WANTS CALEB OUT OF THE WAY. What better way to do it than another 11 years to plan?

Me: She told him Trent wasn't there, too. :-/ Now, that still might have been true in that... he might have been called to the place, but I doubt it.

Sibling: What I want to be said... nvm, I'll actually save that for therapy lol. That's too deep and I don't wanna type that out. That's the problem with characters with trauma: what you want for them might hit too close to home LMAOAOOO. Hurts your heart, especially when it's glossed over.

Me: Caleb getting justice shouldn't necessitate his trauma being rubbed in his face 24/7.

Sibling: TRUE. Truest goddamn thing I ever heard. Especially if his choice is to be done with it.

...........

We didn’t really touch on Yasha, who has actually been a good influence on Caleb, imo, and there were other things we could have talked about that are related to this subject, but *shrug*

Anyway, this conversation mostly came from a place of hurt.  It’s frustrating to see characters who claim to love a traumatized character consistently, thoughtlessly behave in ways that are hurtful to that character, and in often brazenly selfish ways.  We’re not saying you can’t like characters who do that... this conversation was actually prompted by frankly hurtful posts with respect to Caleb’s mental state.

Also sorry for those who are unfamiliar with Tales of the Abyss/Tales of Berseria.  Both of these video games have traumatized protagonists and both games explore their growth (or decline) as a result of that trauma, and were useful in our discussion for making my point.

.

Edit: Okay, so the first comment I got was someone saying that I’m allowed to think what I want but they don’t want to see it.  If you’ve read this far, I hope you noticed that this post criticized that sort of attitude... IN THE CHARACTERS OF CR... It’s bad to pressure a person into exhibiting their trauma in a way that makes normies “comfortable,” so of course the first responder to the post decided to prove just that.  I deleted that comment... but not before doing what they wanted, like people like me and characters like Caleb almost always end up doing anyway.  Thanks for that. I can see why my post upset that poster. *rolls eyes*

[maneaterwithtail]

Why I still hate slash shipping even when I do it

Ya know its kind of interesting.

Gay baiting aside, Bucky has been the most 'toxically masculine' character compared to even Walker. Walker may take people for support for granted, but is open about his feelings, aware of his need for dialogue, communicative about his problems with the support network he’s engaging in, and doesn’t direct reject criticism, even from his Black Best Friend.

Bucky is not those things. Displays none of them, in direct contrast to meeting Sam, versus Walker.

 He's lying and deceptive and dismissive of and to a professional woman of higher authority, inserts himself in people's business and takes their life choices personally, while not helping or engage in dialogue on their needs or issues. He holds secrets, is flush with man pain, and even how he handles the cops, with him insisting on capitulation and then rewarding a free bailout with further snottiness, speaks to a more entitled and hostile attitude than Walker. Walker tries every open handed tactic until he tries leverage and STILL lets them go

just shows some teeth of “fine be a jerk but don’t get in my way”

Seriously, aside from being Sebastian Stan he comes off as Grant Ward! tbf no deliberate rapeyness yet. but even the roll in tall grass scene had him meaner.  Hell he is WAY  meaner to Walker than Sam who, if anyone, has cause to be mad at him.  Meanwhile AFTER dealing with profiling arrest and unwanted therapy scene (forced to deal with Bucky for HIS bullshit after bucky forced his way on his op) Sam is more willing to dialogue with Walker and Battlestar until finds they don’t got intel and even when leaves he does a minor nitpick that even ties into Sam’s reasons for retiring from active service under direct command

He wants to be his own boss

bucky has been shown mansplaining. bucky has killed a racial minority onscreen and used his friendship to alleviate his mainpain generational inherited guilt.

I’m sorry but even if this show canonically reveal James Buchanan Barnes is gayer than springtime that doesn’t make his actions less “toxic masculinity”

And yet in his thread people are mad at Walker and his therapist but trying to reach out and level with him and treat him either as an equal or in response to his behavior.

The therapist isn’t snotty out the gate she’s calling him on lying to her and engaging in behavior likely to make him hurt.  She is trying to tell him she understands but he won’t work with her to reach out and misleads her. he tries to retreat to lived experience and her qualifications and she tosses her own back at him.

Sam is more communicative and she is more effective. Bucky runs STILL from her after securing, through privelege smoozing by someone needing and seeking his guidance and endorsement, power to ignore her and his needed therapy

BTW if Walker playing with Bucky’s therapy schedule is bad how isn't Bucky doing so. He is skipping, and undermining it and misleading. Are his actions not equally the same offense?

Just.  Just one for me to grow on

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Some Sense of Normalcy ch.2 (baon)

Summary: It’s Edge’s first day back to work at the Embassy, but his job isn’t the only thing on his mind.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Past Injury

Chapter 1 | 

~~*~~

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read Chapter 2 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch kept watch out the front window, waiting for Edge to drive off with Red at the wheel of his car and wasn’t that a question he didn’t have time to find out the answer. Then he went back upstairs to get dressed; he had places to be and of course today would be the morning that Edge decided to let his ridged adherence to his schedule slip.

It was pretty damned hard to nudge Edge out the door without making him suspicious, since all previous evidence pointed to Stretch trying to keep him in bed as long as possible and now that he was finally gone, Stretch needed to double-time it.

He hadn't lied about the video conference with his therapist, but that wasn't until this afternoon and there was something to look forward to. He had a love/hate thing going with Doc Lee, loved that she could help him collect all his thoughts back into the right baskets and get 'em back in order, hated that he had to actually talk about why they were scattered to begin with to get there.

In the meantime, he yanked on the first pair of pants and sweatshirt he found in his side of the closet. He was headed back downstairs, socks in hand, when the doorbell rang.

Stretch opened the door, leaning awkwardly on the jamb as he reached down to pull on his socks. "hey, andy."

“Morning,” Jeff said with a smile. He was dressed for work and Jeff’s style was a little less posh than Edge went for. No suit coat and his button-up shirt was a deep blue with a scattered floral pattern and a sort of long, gauzy white vest hanging open over the works. He looked good and Stretch didn’t mind telling him so.

“good thing i’m a math genius, your clothes are looking pretty acute there.”

Faint pink rose in Jeff’s cheeks. The kid didn’t take a compliment well, it was a work in progress. But he sure as heck proved his pun skills were up to par. “Thanks for going at the right angle so I don’t have to be obtuse about it. Are you ready to head out?”

“give me two minutes to feed the chickens and we can hit it.”

Stretch headed into the backyard, Jeff at his heels. Jeff stayed out of the coop in deference to his nice shoes and only watched as Stretch let the chickens out, scooping feed into their trough. Nugget came out of the coop last, not the normal order of things, gobbling her food with record speed. Probably wanted to book it back inside to her weird nest and that was another mystery on Stretch’s list. It’d keep for a day or two, and Stretch would take a dozen peculiar eggs, carton and all, to have her back home. He gave her a light pat, didn’t even mind when his affection was ignored in favor of the eats.

Meanwhile, Jeff wandered over to the freshly planted garden beds, peering down at the tiny points of green poking out. "So, do I get to hear why you didn't hitch a ride in with Edge?"

See, that was the problem with Jeff being pals with Edge; it made him concerned for Edge’s welfare and feelings and stuff. That was some double-sided sticky tape, ‘cause Stretch wanted Jeff to like Edge but not enough that he’d tattle. "that would be because he'd interrogate me about what i was doing."

"And you think I won't?"

"nah, you will, but you're more lucky to fall for the eyes." Stretch turned to him, feed bucket still in hand, and gave him the very best doe-eyed, pathetic look in his collection.

"okay, that is pretty effective,” Jeff admitted, “But, somehow, I don't think you're planning a surprise party. So, I have to ask, is what you're doing going to make Edge mad and that's why you're going behind his back?"

"nope." Probably not, anyway.

Jeff gave Stretch a scrutinizing look that would give Sans a run for his money. Well, maybe a leisurely stroll. “All right,” he said at last, “If I don’t take you to the Embassy, you’ll just take the bus, anyway. But if something is actually wrong or you need real help that isn’t solved by a quick lift, you tell me. Deal?”

“deal,” Stretch hesitated and added, “i promise.” Fuck it, Andy was his best friend, if he couldn’t confess to him at least a little, then he might as well start rethinking the title.

Stretch never really gave Jeff a rundown about how he felt about promises, but stood to reason that someone did. His expression softened into a lopsided smile and he jerked his head towards the house. “Then let’s get going before I’m late. Catty is a good boss but the last person in has to get coffee for everyone for the rest of the day.”

The ladies were still chowing down and Stretch left them to it, though he did double and then triple check that the gate was shut tight. Not that he’d ever accidentally left it open, but he was pretty resigned to being stupid about his chicks for a little while yet.

Jeff’s car was a sporty little compact with a surprising amount of legroom in the front seats and there was zero doubt in Stretch’s mind that Edge was the one who chose it with that feature in mind, along with every safety feature package that they could cram in without popping a seam. He didn’t wait for the seat belt speech, already buckling up, and they were off.

Crawling through the streets of New New Home to the security checkpoint and once they were through the gate, Jeff turned things up a notch. His cautious driving was only about a step down from Edge’s, but unlike Edge, Jeff didn’t say a peep when Stretch rolled down the window and let his arm dangle out, relishing the cool wind on his bony fingers.

Nice to be able to relax and enjoy the breeze. Edge would’ve bitched at him and he knew from experience that Blue would stop the car and refuse to move until he rolled the window back up, citing statistics about Humans losing limbs and heads all the while.

Yeah, okay, today wasn’t a good day to think about anyone losing their head. Stretch pulled his arm back in and let it sit more sedately on the window ledge. He could feel Jeff giving him a look, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t ask or probe or scold and that was why he was an awesome friend. Even if a couple times he’d asked about things Stretch didn’t like to think about, things from the past, from Underswap—

The sound of the wind through the opened window suddenly sounded a little too much like a brewing storm in Snowdin, the way they often swirled up across the narrow path that led to Waterfall. Dredged up memories that Stretch usually kept packed away, neat and tidy in a box of ‘past is past’. His head really wasn’t on straight today and—

Stop it, STOP IT—

“how’s things at the embassy?” Stretch asked abruptly. He yanked his arm inside and rolled the window up entirely, sealing out the blowing wind. Jeff didn’t seem perturbed about the sudden break in the silence.

“Great. Busy.” Jeff kept his eyes on the road, but his smile was honest and wide, “I know you’re going to put me off for saying this, but I seriously could never thank you guys enough for getting me this job.”

Stretch shrugged. “i didn’t have anything to do with it. i have less pull at the embassy than hussain, and i’ve heard what he did with the cafeteria.”

“The food is great,” Jeff agreed, “especially the falafel.” His quick side eye said a lot about how much he believed the rest of it.

It wasn’t that Stretch minded the gratitude, but it really wasn’t necessary. Yeah, sure, being his pal probably got Jeff’s foot through the door. That wouldn’t make Edge give Jeff a job that he couldn’t do or that he wouldn’t be suited for. Strategy was what Edge did, and if he thought Jeff would be great for Public Relations, Stretch was a hundred-and-nine percent sure he was right.

“anything i had to do with it was strictly by association,” Stretch told him, “you’re probably more lucky being my pal didn’t put them off, but eh, if they haven’t ditched edge, i doubt you’ll be in line.”

“I think if they fired Edge, half the Embassy would grab their staplers and follow him out the door,” Jeff snorted, “Speaking of lines, you want to stop for a coffee on our way?”

Seriously, best pals forever, “lead on, macduff, i’ll follow you anywhere.”

Jeff laughed even as he turned into the lot for the Beanery and headed for the drive-thru.

Jeff dropped Stretch off at the Embassy entrance before he went to park his car. Which was fine, he knew where he was going, and he didn’t need Jeff to hold his hand along the way.

The security guard only gave him a disinterested look as he swiped his rarely-used keycard and headed for the elevator. Not the normal elevators, the ones that led to the offices upstairs that Humans and Monsters used all day long, where you could press any button and be off.

No, the elevator to the labs was around the corner from those and needed a keycard just to open the doors, another swipe of the card with a password to activate it. Not all Monsters had access to all the labs, and their cards would only take them as far down as their security clearance allowed.

Stretch’s card would take him to any of the labs. All he had to do was swipe it.

He stood in front of the elevator, the card gripped too-tight in the clench of his fingers, staring at the closed doors.

When he’d texted Alphys yesterday, she’d been perfectly happy to meet with him, but said she couldn’t get away from the labs right now, so he’d have to come here. He’d assured her that it was fine and yesterday, it was. It’d been a relief, even.

Somehow while he’d been lying in bed the day before, lost in the tangle of his thoughts, the idea of his HP dropping again got hooked into his head. He couldn't stop thinking about it, none of his distraction techniques were working, his focus was fucking shot. All the clues that he might be having HP trouble were banging on the door, demanding to be let into his mind.

Like the fact that the lower his HP got, the wearier he was and just lately, he'd been feeling awfully damned tired. He'd gotten used to his HP being at five and the extra slice of energy that came with that. Falling asleep at random times in even more random places was becoming the exception rather than the norm and he fucking well liked it that way.

Last time Alphys checked him over, his HP was back on the rise, but it’d been a while. Lately, he'd been smoking way too much, using up a lot of magic healing, and he’d been so, so tired. He wasn’t the puzzle-fiend that his bro and Edge were, but even he could do one that only had a couple pieces.

Yesterday, Alphys’s assurances that he could stop in had been a relief, enough to make that worry back off a little and let him go back to his sour ball of grief over Nugget. Now that mourning was off the table, the reports of her death greatly exaggerated, here came his ghostly HP worries, trundling back in to for another go at haunting the inside of his skull.

After dinner, he’d gone upstairs to take a shower and stood there, looking at himself in the mirror. All it would’ve take was a quick Check, only a few seconds, and his stats would have spilled out right in front of his eye lights, letting him know exactly the state of his HP. Just a quick check and if everything looked good, he could tell Alphys never mind, he could stay home and take a day, not curled up on the bed but on the sofa, maybe, day-binging Netflix. Or outside, watching the chickens roam the yard, maybe see if Nugget would let him get a picture of that mystery egg she was so protective of.

Would’ve only taken a quick Check and Stretch just…couldn't. The magic was sitting there ready to be used and he couldn’t make himself pull the trigger on doing it. He couldn't do it and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to ask Edge. Like Edge needed any other problems on his radar? Not a chance.

So that cemented the plan right there. He was gonna go downtown and see what the deal was, and if it was bad, he would tell Edge. No secrets, not this time, no trying to hide this shit. Edge was going to have to deal with whatever fallout came down the line from his HP dropping, so may as well give him as much prep time as he could.

All he had to do was open the elevator door.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Stretch startled so badly the world blurred around him in an aborted shortcut. The mostly empty coffee cup in his hands slipped though his fingers, spilling out a few creamy droplets when it hit the floor.

Jeff only went to the nearby cleaning station to grab a paper towel, crouching down to wipe up the mess while Stretch tried to remember how to breathe normally.

Finally, he blurted out, “you scared the shit out of me, andy!”

“I noticed and it’s extra impressive considering you don’t shit,” Jeff said. He tossed the cup and dirty paper towel into the trash can. “And you didn’t answer me. Do you want me to come with you?”

Stretch laughed unsteadily, “you don’t even know where i’m going.”

“I don’t,” Jeff agree. “What I do know is that leads to the labs downstairs. And I know you have trouble with labs sometimes, even your own. So. Do you need me to come with you?”

Jeff’s gaze was steady, calm, and beneath it was that warm gentleness, the compassion on his face as obvious as the soft green of his soul. It was hard to resist the urge to grab onto him and drag him downstairs, fuck all the security protocols, but that would be plowing over all kinds of boundaries and Stretch wouldn’t be the only one getting in trouble over it. He wasn’t about to damage anyone at the Embassy’s trust in Jeff over his own stupid issues.

“nah,” Stretch forced a smile, “you need to get upstairs before you’re the designated coffee runner for the day.” Then, when Jeff didn’t move, he said, more seriously, “but you can hit the button for me. if you want.”

Jeff stepped up but instead of pushing the button, he wrapped both arms around Stretch’s rib cage and hugged him tightly. All of Stretch’s good intentions snapped like the elastic in an old pair of undershorts; all he could do is lean down and hug Jeff back, his slim body giving in a way that bone simply couldn’t. Jeff was softer and squishy and so very Human, the best part of humanity.

If anyone came down towards the elevators, Stretch might’ve let go sooner. As it was, they stood there an embarrassingly long time for whatever security cameras were probably watching. Jeff didn’t let up an inch, held tight and let Stretch be the one to step back first.

Stretch shook his arms out, gave himself a full body shake. He could do this.

“okay, i’m heading down,” Stretch said firmly. He pushed his card into the key slot. “hit it.”

Jeff did and the elevator door slid open smoothly. Stretch stepped inside and the doors were closing almost before he could turn around.

“You can text me whenever you’re done!” Jeff called through the narrowing opening. The door closed completely before Stretch could reply but that was okay, Jeff would know his answer without him saying a thing.

He pushed his keycard into the control panel slot and tapped in his password; the calendar numbers of his wedding anniversary used in a linear equation. The elevator lurched hard enough to unsettle his non-existent stomach and started downward.

No big deal, Stretch told himself, struggling to pull his keycard back out with sweat-slick fingers. He rubbed them impatiently on his pants and tried again, and this time the card came free, just as the elevator doors opened into the gleaming stainless steel and glass of the labs, all clean sterile lines, nothing at all like his own cluttered workspace. But it was all fine, he wouldn’t even be in the lab long, Alphys always took him right to her office.

Right on in and she could do all her tests, let him know the state of his body and soul, that was it, yep.

No big deal at all.

tbc

[vitosscaletta]

All of them for juliasam. now. sorry to anyone else who sent any this is my city now

(thank you 😌 also @jmcolt asked 1-8 too, thank u ❤💕)

Who is the most affectionate?

JULIA DUUHHHHH... it’s the repression 😔 he squeezed her hand when he was fucked up from blood loss once though. love. 

Big spoon/Little spoon?

They don’t spoon.. they're the same size it just ends up being weird 😔 

Most common argument?

It’s not really one specific topic, like I said before she doesn’t really agree with most of the crime stuff around 1938 anymore but lets most of it slide.. 

Favorite non-sexual activity?

ahem 😌 i think i already said this on another post but she likes to take walks by the docks on central island (other places too that’s just where she goes because her workplace is there) and drags him along lol.  Also they sit in a corner booth at Salieri’s like freaks and talk shit about the other guests/some guy in the gang they don’t like 😒

Who is most likely to carry the other?

hmm neither lol, Julia would try it for fun but she’s not strong enough :(

What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

Ew corny 🤢🤢🤢 but for her... he rarely smiles but the maybe 3 times he does.. she likes that she thinks he looks cute 😌 (that one screenshot from the race where he looks normal. i know i said i hate it but I really don’t, I actually like that pic. he has dimples :/) For him uuhh her fucked up small nose.. the way it looks when she laughs. he’d never say that but yk 

What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

mmmjdsjhdfjhdfjdfjjhdfjhdfj sam is fucked up so he avoids her.. he’s obviously not emotionless but rather. emotionally stunted. Doesn’t talk to anyone about himself, not even his closest friends and instead uses random prostitutes as therapists while mistaking physical intimacy for an emotional connection with that one girl even though she was just doing her job.. Meanwhile Julia has been in the “friend you don’t really open up to” category up until that point and the fact that these feelings come from actual friendship with an actual connection of sorts rather than aforementioned physical intimacy (which was already bad enough last time & didn’t end well you know 🤷‍♀️)... BAD... Which leads to the whole “just don’t think about it” mentality clicking because it’s easier than just facing it I suppose.

Julia on the other hand had a dumb little crush early on that she never really acted on - she’s not emotionally repressed, she just cares too much about what other people think about her.. she’s not trying to be liked, just to be taken seriously so talking about your feelings to some mafia guy out of the blue is probably not the best idea 😔 She just kind of ignores it/complains to her friends... after the hand holding thing even more so because she’s pissed he’s acting weird. she kind of knows he’s a fucked up repressed guy but she’s not gonna chase after him or anything.. make an effort 🔫

Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

She calls him “chief” lol. Just for fun.. the more affectionate thing is “Sammy” though which is cringe but whatever.. uhh he doesn’t strike me as a nickname person though, he just calls her Julia. Maybe some corny shit in italian if he’s feeling it

Who worries the most?

Julia 😔 mafia boyfriend thingz, meanwhile her job is just to write things for the newspaper so she’s not actively in danger. 

Who tops?

ewww don’t force me to talk about s*x on tumblr. She does. 

Who initiates kisses?

In public... mostly Julia 🙄 which isn’t much she’ll just give him a kiss on the cheek sometimes. At home/private it’s. both :)

Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Ahem.. She does 😌 see this.

Who wakes up first?

Uhh it depends. They both have to get up early as fuck but sometimes he’ll get a call from the don at some fucked up early hour. Which wakes her up too but she can go back to sleep ig

Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

This ties into the previous question but IF it happens.. she :)

Who says I love you first?

She does. she has to do everything I guess 😒

Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

godd neither that’s cringe. Also they probably just eat out all the time 

Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

Julia. Sam doesn’t say anything probably, when someone asks he’s like. mind your own business 😒

What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

omg they mostly have the same friends. I don’t think anyone really gives a shit, they have mafia things to do. Olive knows about it of course and thinks it’s uhhhh questionable... Sam is kinda fucked up but once it works out she’s cool with it 😌

As for family (that’s not “the family”).. Sam doesn’t have any. He does but they live somewhere else and do.. idk something. being catholic. they don’t know what he’s up to. Julia’s dad already knew him obviously (sitting at some cringe family dinner & one of your daughters brings some guy who bled out on your couch a year ago ❤), she could have done better but there are worse guys out there, he’s okay with it. Her sisters are just like. ew we hate this man.

Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

Technically Julia but she’s too lazy/”””busy””” to cook so they just eat at salieri’s every goddamn day

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Neither 🙄

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

UHHH maybe he does. sometimes. 

Who needs more assurance?

Sam but not in a “actively craves it” way, more in a.. doesn’t need it but then gets it once & says it’s dumb but has to think about it for 3 weeks way 

What would be their theme song?

I don’t have one but like you (dany) said.. sara by fleetwood mac’s lyrics have the vibes & i get weirdly emotional about them every time i hear it so. that qualifies 😌

Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

GODDDD I don’t know. the mental image of them having a child at all (MAYBE in the au just for fun but.. idk.)

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

gooddddd Sam is just doing mafia shit idk. hangs around with the don/his friends or in his stupid boxing club. Julia goes back to writing some random article/rewriting it if she’s particularly bored. Also hangs out with her friends. 

one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

GODD the entire canon timeline 1938 and after that. We have au’s for this bitch but you know how it is... Like I said in a post on my oc blog, she doesn’t know anything about the bank job/salieri smuggling drugs now/you know what :)... just a bunch of fucked up things all happening on one day. 

She & Olive leave for Empire Bay after Tommy tells them to get out of town before he snitches on Salieri, Julia ends up marrying the nephew of her old editor-in-chief because she never had that (a wedding lol) & feels like she’s missing out. She’s not happy though, she doesn’t really love him so she just drowns herself in work instead/becomes a bitter workaholic :) He’s not a bad guy, there’s just no real connection there. Come back when you’re emotionally repressed 😒  Her husband also doesn’t know anything about her life before moving to empire bay except that she was a reporter in Lost Heaven and that she has a dead boyfriend who he saw on a few old photographs that Julia keeps in a little box :( Sees her with big smile on those that he never saw on her before 🙃

one headcanon about this OTP that mends it

I don’t know what to say here but in regards to the AU i mentioned uhhh.. basically the ending doesn’t happen bc Sam is somewhat normal I suppose, gets over his repression & doesn’t betray his friends 😌.. they get married in 1939/40 something :^)

[camillemontespan]

the history of us [drake x camille] [final part: i love him]

Part Thirteen if you want to catch up.

Drake’s Mind Over Matter Magazine Interview

FINAL PART! Ahhhh thank you to everyone who stuck with me throughout this series of angst! I’ve loved all your comments. I’m so glad this resonated with you. 

@jovialyouthmusic @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @emceesynonymroll @dcbbw @burnsoslow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @symonde @notoriouscs @katedrakeohd @emichelle @rainbowsinthestorm @stopforamoment @iplaydrake @gardeningourmet @mrsnazariowalker @be-still-my-aching-heart

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

Seven months later

'Are you ready?'

Drake broke out of his thoughts and looked down at his wife who had placed her hands on his shoulders. She was smiling and looked so hopeful. Drake smiled back, grateful that she was by his side. 

'As ready as I'll ever be,' he told her.

'If you get nervous, just picture everyone naked,' Camille joked. Drake chuckled and brought her into him, his arms wrapping around her body. 'Forget everyone, I'll just picture you.'

Camille blushed. Drake loved that he still had that effect on her.

'Okay, go,' she ordered. 'We'll be sat in the front row cheering you on.'

Drake grinned and watched her leave. He took a deep breath.

He made his way from the dressing area and found Samantha standing outside waiting for him. 'You ready?' she asked.

Drake nodded.

'You'll be brilliant,' she reassured him. They walked together down the hallway and Drake opened the doors, letting Samantha go first. He was on the side of the stage and he watched as Samantha made her way over to where Camille was sat in front row.

Lily was sat beside Camille, her feet inches off the floor. She was wearing a red satin dress with sparkly black tights and Mary Jane shoes. A little red bow was in her hair. Red was still her favourite colour, thanks to her Aunt Olivia. Olivia was sat on Lily’s other side and she was also wearing red. She had taken a look at her goddaughter’s outfit with approval. ‘I love the red, babe.’

Camille was holding Luna.

Luna was only 4 weeks old. Yet again, they had a baby who resembled Camille with her caramel skin and downy dark hair.  Except for her eyes. Luna had inherited Drake's brown eyes that looked green in the light.

She was a quiet baby who watched everything. Always concentrating, always making sense of the world around her. Drake had a feeling she would grow up to be like him. 

They had named her Luna after the moon, because even in the darkest of nights, if you looked, you would see the silver face of the moon shining down, bringing hope and light; something which Drake had struggled to find months ago. Until now.

Samantha sat down beside Bertrand. Maxwell, Leo and Hana were also there. Drake knew the King was there too. He was up on the mezzanine, not wanting to distract attention away from Drake. This was Drake's moment.

He stood at the podium and the room hushed. It was full of nobles and commoners alike. Drake swallowed and his eyes found Camille's. She smiled at him encouragingly and gave him a wink.

Drake cleared his throat and began to speak.

'If you told me five years ago that this would have been my life, I'd have laughed and continued to drink my whiskey,' he began. 'I never visualised myself having a wife or children. I never even thought I would become a noble. I truly believed that I was destined to spend my life in the shadows at Palace balls, a loner, without happiness. That all changed when I met my wife. She changed the way I thought and I began to think that maybe I could change the course of my future.'

He stopped for a moment to gauge reaction. Everyone was still listening, thank God.

'I got the woman of my dreams and I have two beautiful children. I should have felt like I had made it. But I didn't. I know to many people here, it will sound like I'm ungrateful. That these are first world problems. But seven months ago, I had to admit to myself that I was an alcoholic.'

The room gasped. Drake closed his eyes, bracing himself. He had said it.

'I felt under so much pressure to be a good father, a good husband and a good Duke. I'm well aware that I don't exactly fit expectations for what a Duke should be.. I don't wear fancy clothes, I don't like palace balls, I hate etiquette and I can't stand fancy finger food. I am much better just being outside, camping and making smores with my family. So I began to feel that even with my title, I still didn't fit in.  I felt like a fraud. I wanted myself and Camille to be the most normal Duke and Duchess, but this idea rubbed many people up the wrong way.'

He hadn't lost the audience. They were listening intently.

'I hate the paparazzi. I hated how anytime we went anywhere, we would get hounded. I wanted to keep my family safe and each time they were photographed, I felt helpless. My daughter broke her arm and the paparazzi were camped outside the hospital. I lost my temper which made headlines. I began to feel out of my depth and began to hate my life.'

He focused on Camille. She knew his thoughts but he hadn't exactly expressed them in this sort of way before. But she was smiling softly, supporting him.

'So, I turned to whiskey. I used it to block out thoughts that I wasn't cut out for this life and it numbed me. It's only when my wife and daughter left me that I realised how badly this had gone. So, I decided to fight for them. I am still fighting.’

Drake kept his voice steady even though his heart was hammering from nerves. ‘I have been going to AA meetings and working through personal stuff with my therapist. My wife encourages me to talk to her if I feel overwhelmed, which I’ve been doing.’ He paused. ‘You might wonder why I’m telling you this. There’s a reason, trust me!’

The audience chuckled.

‘Months ago, I felt I had no purpose, that I brought nothing to the table. But by making steps to improve myself and get better, I realised that my problems stemmed from myself. My inner thoughts. My walls were built back up and I lost myself in this dark place. Now, I’m back into the light, but I have learned that there could be many men in Cordonia who are struggling with mental health issues, such as anxiety, depression, hey, alcoholism, every thing else in between. If I, a guy who became a Duke, married the woman of my dreams and had two kids can be struggling, then anyone can. So, I’m talking to you today to introduce my first campaign as the Duke of Valtoria.’

He stepped out from the podium and the screen behind him burst into life. Maxwell had mixed a soundtrack for the presentation while Samantha had given Drake pointers in how to make it look interesting. 

‘Mind Over Matter,’ Drake said, enunciating every word. ‘This is my new campaign for all men in Cordonia. Let’s get rid of toxic masculinity. If you’re struggling, be honest. Talk. Show your demons. Now, I know how difficult it is to talk about feelings and ask for help; I’ve been there. Consider this as me paying it forward to you.’

He began to walk around the stage, getting comfortable. 

‘The campaign will involve myself, my fellow Dukes and the King and you. You. Everyone knows I like getting outside. It’s freeing. So, next month, sign up to join us as we go on a week long adventure trail in the mountains. We will be hiking, kayaking, abseiling. Every outdoor thing you can think of, we will do. The idea is that if you are about to launch yourself off a cliff into a lake, sure, the height is  scary. But you are pushed to just confront your fears and jump. The same idea goes for your emotions. It’s a symbol. Confront your emotions and let go. Mind over matter.’ 

There was a silence. Drake ignored it; he was on a roll now. 

‘While we’re doing all this fun, outdoor stuff, we will be talking. It’s like a free therapy session except instead of being stuck in a room for 60 minutes, you are navigating nature and working together, while talking about the stuff inside your head. Meanwhile, we will be filming our activities and live streaming them online so people can donate to the campaign, which will split money donated to mental health charities.’

He faced the audience. ‘Men like me are too quick to shut down. We build a wall so nobody can see how we feel. We are told that to have feelings is to be weak. You have to be macho all the time. Fuck macho! Honestly, fuck it. I know I love making fires outdoors and hiking and other ‘macho’ things, but one of my favourite things to do is to take part in my daughter’s tea parties because it makes her happy -and myself, actually. That’s not macho!’

Camille grinned, her eyes shining as she listened to her husband. Lily was beaming, her legs swinging as she listened to every word her daddy was saying. She made a mental note to ask him to join her for a tea party when they got home.

‘Sometimes, she makes me wear a plastic tiara on my head because it might be a princess tea party. Do I care? No! Because it’s quality time with my little girl. Seriously, we need to put aside these tired notions that we NEED TO BE MEN AND BE SERIOUS AND STOIC. If you’re feeling vulnerable or sad or depressed, anything at all,  then please, join me on this campaign. I have big plans for it and I would love it if you could join me on this ride. Thank you.’

Camille was the first to stand up. She couldn’t clap because she was holding Luna, but she gave a loud ‘whooo!’

Lily jumped up and down, while Maxwell stood up and shouted, ‘FUCK TOXIC MASCULINITY!’ He turned to highfive Leo who then fist pumped the air.  

Drake bowed then spoke again. ‘You can sign up on our official website which has launched NOW. Let’s get out there.’ 

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

‘I need... to sit down..’ Maxwell panted, stopping to get some breath back. Bertrand turned to survey his brother. ‘Come on, Maxxie! We’re nearly at the top!’

Drake, Maxwell, Bertrand, Liam, Leo and some ten other nobles and fifteen commoners were hiking up the Cordonia Pass. They were dressed in hiking gear with huge backpacks on their backs and each of them was sweating profusely. 

Maxwell had his video camera. He turned it so he could film himself. ‘If I don’t make it back, please leave my estate to the Hippo Sanctuary..’ 

Leo chuckled and took the camera from the ailing Beaumont. ‘Right, guys, let’s keep moving. Drake, how ya doin?’

Drake turned to look at Leo. He looked in his element. ‘I feel exhausted but I’ve got tons of adrenaline. We’re nearly there!’

‘How do you hike like this all the time, Drake?’ Liam asked, panting as they hiked further up. ‘What’s wrong with using a gym?’

‘Because you get good views!’ Drake replied, casting his hand out over Cordonia.

Leo shook his head. ‘You get good views at the gym, buddy. Just think: you’re on the treadmill, you’ve got some gym bunny in tight lycra running on the treadmill in front of you..’

‘You realise we’re livestreaming this and Olivia’s watching, right?’ Drake said dryly.

Leo let out a gasp in mock horror and turned the camera to face him. ‘Olivia, that wasn’t me talking! That was... Bertrand!’

Bertrand kept hiking, his eyes fixed on the ground, concentrating on not slipping, but he still managed to say, ‘As if I would ever look at gym bunnies, I have some decorum..’

The group continued to hike until they finally reached the top. 

‘Ah! Thank God!’ Maxwell shrieked, falling to his knees. 

‘Right, water break. Let’s take in the view,’ Drake said. ‘Rest up, gents.’

They all settled down on the ground, happy to be resting. Drake handed out bottles of water; Maxwell opened his and poured it on his head. They all looked down at Cordonia. The camera was placed outside the circle, filming them. 

‘I feel like we’re on top of the world..’ a commoner, Matthew, said. 

‘Are you guys enjoying the campaign so far?’ Liam asked. 

The group nodded. ‘It’s different,’ a noble, Theo, told him. ‘I never get out and do this sort of thing. I’m always in the palace, trying to look like part of the furniture.’ 

‘You’re all different to how I imagined,’ Matthew said, gesturing to Drake and his core group of friends. ‘I thought you would be all stuck up because you’re noble.’

‘Dude, the day I become stuck up is the day I’m no longer myself,’ Leo said, taking out a sandwich from his bag. He spotted Maxwell eyeing it hungrily and so tore off a piece for him to have. 

‘So, what are your demons?’ another commoner, James, asked. He had the Mind Over Matter brochure in his hands and was reading it seriously. 

‘Oh god, is this when we sit round a circle like the fucking Breakfast Club?’ Theo groaned. 

Drake smirked. ‘It’s what you signed up for. Okay, so obviously, I’m an alcoholic and I’m working every day to fight my addiction and be a better husband and father.’

He gestured to the group. ‘Feel free to be the Breakfast Club.’

‘I feel like I’m only just keeping my head above water,’ James admitted quickly. ‘I work two jobs, have a wife and kid, I’m in a shit ton of debt and I’m always exhausted.’ 

Maxwell turned red and looked down at his hands. ‘That’s actual real people issues. I’m a Beaumont, so anything I say is a problem really isn’t.’ 

‘Maxwell, just because you’re noble doesn’t mean your issues aren’t valid,’ Liam reassured him. James nodded eagerly.  Bertrand was studying his younger brother. ‘Maxxie, be honest.’

Maxwell sighed. ‘I feel like I constantly have to be the joker, the fun one. Since our parents died, I’ve pushed myself to make sure that you’re happy and that means trying to be positive and a ray of eternal fucking sunshine. But sometimes, I don’t want to do that. If I feel upset, I can’t say anything because I don’t want to bring us down. My job is to keep us happy-’

‘Maxwell, that’s not your job,’ Bertrand interrupted. ‘If anything, my job is to look after you and keep you right.’ 

There was a silence. Leo cleared his throat. ‘Eh, sometimes I think marriage would be nice.’

They all turned to stare at Leo, a look of complete bewilderment on their faces.

‘But.. but you are a former manwhore!’ Liam cried, forgetting the camera that was filming them. ‘And you’re with Olivia who hates all that stuff.’

Leo shrugged. ‘So do I normally. But I see Drake with Camille and sometimes I wonder if I should take the leap and just.. ask her.’

‘Oh my God..’ Maxwell breathed. ‘Are you proposing to Olivia on our livestream?’

Leo bolted up to grab the camera, his eyes filled with panic. ‘Fuck, can I like, delete what I said?!’

They all burst out laughing. Leo turned to them, seething. He left the camera on but he sat back down and became uncharacteristically quiet. 

‘Well, since we’re all being a really cringey version of the Breakfast Club right now,’ Liam said, smiling, ‘I guess I should say that as the King, I’m always thinking that I’m not serving my country right. I always wonder if I am cut out for the role.’

‘I think you’re a good king,’ James said. ‘You’re fair and it’s obvious you want to push the country into being more modern.’ 

Liam gave him a grateful smile. ‘Thank you.’

‘I hate wearing sweater vests,’ Bertrand suddenly said. ‘I hate them. I look like a fifty year old librarian, when in reality, I’m in my mid thirties.’ 

‘You do have a Hugh Jackman look about you,’ Maxwell mused. ‘You should play into that. Hugh Jackman doesn’t wear sweater vests.’

‘What would you wear instead?’ Drake asked. ‘And why do you wear them?’

Bertrand sighed. ‘They’re a serious item of clothing, traditional, makes me look the part. I often feel like I’m failing House Beaumont and I don’t want my parents reputation to be destroyed, so I try and act like I’m more serious and professional than I actually am when really..’

They all waited with bated breath. 

‘I have..’ Bertrand said, hesitating. ‘I have.. oh dear God, do I have to say it? Uh, okay, I have... a kimono collection.’ His voice trailed off. 

Their mouths dropped open. ‘WHAT?!’ Maxwell shrieked. ‘I KNEW IT. I knew you were a flamboyant peacock hiding inside the body of a boring pigeon!’

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

4th July 2024

I’ve started a new diary! Writing helps me reflect and get my thoughts in order. So without further ado...

Today was the Walker Family 4th July. We’re in Texas, spending the whole summer here. The whole summer. 

Things are different to last year. Last year, we brought our pagers and answered work emails so we could still be the Duke and Duchess. Not this time. We’ve left our work stuff in Valtoria so we can spend four months in Texas just being a family. No worries, no responsibility. Bertrand visits the manor once a week and our publicist, Samantha, is keeping our image afloat. She checks in once a week to ask how we’re enjoying our time off, you know, like a normal person *cough* Madeline, take note *cough*.

Drake is still attending his AA meetings and is making huge strides. On top of that, he is making his campaign Mind Over Matter into a powerhouse; he’s already thinking about starting a foundation. He’s found his feet as the Duke of Valtoria. He finally feels he is doing some good. 

Not that he wasn’t before. He does good when he is also a husband and a father. 

Lily was a little hesitant about Luna at first but Drake sat her down and told her how good it is to have a sibling; someone who is in your corner, someone who is your team mate. As an only child, I can’t impart such wisdom, so Drake took that issue and helped her see that Luna is not replacing her; Lily is still as loved. 

Now, Lily is stuck like glue to her little sister. She always asks if she’s had enough milk or enough sleep. Lily is so caring anyway, it’s beautiful to see her taking to her new role with such vitality. 

Tonight, Drake was as excited as always about the fireworks. He found more M-80s which filled me with dread but as always, he was careful with them while still looking like a child on Christmas morning. He had bought Luna some baby earplugs so the fireworks wouldn’t hurt her hearing and she looked up at the sky in wonder as Drake set off the Catherine Wheels. 

He’s going to make our children 4th July nuts and I couldn’t be happier about that. 

When Lily and Luna were put to bed, we sat out on the jetty together with Drake’s arm around me. ‘I’m so happy you’re still with me,’ he whispered in my ear. I smiled and kissed him. 

I will always be with Drake Walker. He’s my family. He’s mine.

As life goes on, we will go through more hardship, more challenges and more joy; but we will have each other through it all. 

I love him. I love him. I love him.

[icharchivist]

eh okay so it's gonna get extremely personal despite it looking like i'm rambling about a game, and there's.... mentions of how bad my mental health had gone, so s.elf h.arm and such,  so. ye. Fair warning.

I've been crying for five minutes (edit: it had been 5 mins when I started writting this post, now it's been half a hour, fml) over Sera's "Do everything for everyone, get sick. Not right." when she comments on the inquisitor's hand getting worse in worse and how she's worried for her and how she needs to make everyone know how great the inquisitor is.

Like istg d/ai may be the da game with the least interesting /plot/ but the companions had hit such cords with me and that fucking line. That. Fucking line. I started playing Da when I was having a very bad mental health episode. Like, I was seriously being miserable when I started d/ao.

Things... hadn't calmed down, but DA gave me a real distraction from everything. Mental breakdowns happen less often. I have less episodes. When they happen they are truly bad, but it's not as often as it was before.

Playing those games gave me a sense of purpose and made me want to wake up in the morning and do stuff. And put myself a goal. That hadn't happened to me in ways too long. Which is kinda why i fell this deeply into da and how much I want to cherish it no matter what, that i don't want to let negative stuff ruin that.

Lately..... no in general, over the course of this last year, reflecting on my mental health - the main point I keep thinking over and over again is how much I basically wasted my whole life taking care of people around me, and how those very people pushed me to my limits to the point of breaking.

I don't know when my d/epression really started - my therapist told me i had symptoms since i'm 7 because of some occurances that happened to me, I can pinpoint my 13th yo as probably the biggest point I couldn't ignore it anymore since it's when I started self harming to cope with all this frustration I had inside me. But up until my 19yo, I tried. I was thinking that no matter what I wanted to be stronger than this, to overcome this. And help as much as I could meanwhile.

It's not like I could ignore the problems around me, I had to fix my parents's mess, my parents's mental health, I had to fix everything, and I had very few friends before high school, and I was always doing emotional labor for everyone I met. Before meeting my High school friends, it's not like i could rely on anyone - and it took me years to rely on my high school friends, after years of being close to them. And even know, I don't rely on anyone I trust as much as I could. as I should.

Then I had that major mental breakdown. The Infamous one lmao. Too many things accumulating at once. Before I turned 18, all I was thinking was "at least live until you pass your diploma", and once it was done I realized I spent my whole life fixing so much shit I hadn't projected myself further. I've been terrified ever since. That mental breakdown happened while i was having this crisis, and my studies, my father and some friends pushed my limits further, and suddenly I couldn't take it anymore.

Ever since that, I had felt like a failure. Like I couldn't even act properly, I couldn't even be a proper person. That no matter what I do, I can't even stand the pressure.

I got physical sickness out of my shitty mental health. Eczema, one of those instance that turned into a deadly sickness that I hadn't treated correctly because I was busy fixing others stuff- still now I have that fucking eczema on my hand I can't seem to get rid off, for years now. Because of stress, my stomach is barely functionable. I had a lot of panic attacks, flashbacks, intrusive thoughts and s/uicidal idealization, big zoning out episodes that had put me in danger (multiple time I was.. coming back from school, and I just. zoned out in the middle of the street and I almost got ran over by a car. Very close. And it was shaking me back into reality and i was breaking down crying at the corner of the street. It happened about 3 times a day which was one of the reasons i dropped school since i was having panic attacks in class and those stuff happening when out of class).

And I felt like a failure. So damn much. That everything i've done, everything i've tried to do to help the world get better around me wasn't enough. That I wasn't strong enough.

I'm taking medications that almost completely negated the nightly panic attacks at least, most of them anyway - which makes that when they happen, they are a hundred times worse than before. My spiral downs are even worse because I try to balance it out.

And I felt terrible for years. Recovery scares me because at this point I don't know what to "recover".

And....... This past few months i've been thinking. A lot. Instead of feeling like a failure, what I end up thinking now is that it's the world around me that failed me. I've done everything for everyone. I was 7, my sister ran away from home, and I was the one trying to hold the family together, being there for my mother, being there for my other sister who was closing of to me, defending them against my father's mean comments about it, while i was being bullied at school. And no one was there for me. I was 13 when my parents divorced, and I was there for my mother, who was lamenting, in her worst mental state, while my father was planning to strip her from everything, ruining her reputation, and I was managing it so he wouldn't be ruining her life, all while my sister blissfully ignored all of it and decided to cut ties with us for over a year - while i was bullied in classes, and had to move out, adapting to a new environment when i was bullied again, in a step family that was snarky, always degrading. And No one was there for me.

I was almost 15 when I got that fucking deadly disease spreading over my chest. Took months to be able to talk it out to one of my parents, for one of them to care. a fucking disease born out of stress, because I was managing another moving out, because I was adapting to a new school where, news flash, I was bullied, while my mom was always lamenting, asking me to do everything for her, while i was fighting another trial my father planned for us, aptemping to make our lives even more difficult, degrading us, while my sister was still blissfully ignoring us despite the fact we were in contact again. I got yelled at by the doctor because I was close to be hospitalized because of how much I neglected my own physicaly health. And all I was thinking was that I couldn't just stop because of that.

I was 17 when I ended up in a toxic, emotionally abusive relationship who changed me for the worst, pushed me to isolation, and had me lost everything i had built before that, along with part of myself. And I was alone. Couldn't speak to it to my family bc they acted extremely homophobic at the idea i was in relationship with a girl, the couple of friends i had back then were too hurt by my actions that they never talked to me again, and my ex was blackmailing me all the time. And I had to get out of it alone.

And it goes on and on and on and on. I can't remember a time i wasn't actively struggling with keeping everything around me from falling apart.

And at this point, i'm so angry. Those last few months, i've felt so angry, and frustrated. I've done everything, for everyone, all my life, and it ruined me mentally and physically. And I don't even know why I should want to carry on. what I should want to live now.

I feel like I lost about 20 years of my life trying to keep everything from falling apart to the point I barely know how to keep myself together now. That I can't project myself, that I can't see further than my own private bubble.  And i'm too tired to try to fix things again. Even if it's fixing myself. I'm just tired.

For months I've been frustrated now. I guess i still consider myself a bit of a failure, but I end up thinking it's everyone around me who failed me. Everyone who should have been there when I needed, who should have let me be someone. And now I'm asked to find my path, to do my studies, find a job, and i'm terrified.

"Do everything for everyone, get sick. not right."

This had been the center of all my frustrations those past few months and i'm actually still crying right now, what the fuck. Y'know, funnily enough, that's also why I hadn't forgiven BW's "you make saving the world look easy. the rest of us can only dream of matching what you've done" - because if there's anything i've managed to do with Laena as a character, is making a balance of showing she feels like she's falling apart, but will try to be cheerful so people don't suspect she's terrified of having to handle everything. This is probably the most personal thing I managed to ever put in a character, the game allowed me to create this balance that is extremely personal to me. So when he said that, i took it personally. Because if anything, I never let anyone see how I was falling apart. I would crack a joke and cheer someone up.

And I think about it because I remember I've been so upset at this one line, that it made me actually cry the first time i heard it.

And now it's Sera's. "Do everything for everyone, get sick. not right.". It had to hit right where it hurt. Right where it was too personal.

honestly d/ai is.... so flawed, but the companions had been such a strength to me, and I mentioned once that seeing them playing Wicked Grace had me cry because it looks like how we play games with my friends. My close friends. Those I took years to be able to rely on, and that are now probably my only driving force. Even if i don't rely on them as much as I should, as they tell me to. So also the fact Sera adds a bit later "i will make them know she had- has friends" i'm just.

Damn i didn't think i'd be crying for 30  minutes over pre-written letters in a game that hit right the cord. They got to hit the most personal part of myself in a few lines.

I don't even know how bad this dlc will get, but man. Nothing will top that.

God i have such a violent headache after crying this much istg. gdi Sera.

[sapphicalexaandra]

Impossibility Is a Kiss Away from Reality (7/?)

Pairing: Jace/Alec

Rating: E

Summary: It was just that…he couldn’t help but obsessively ponder the pros and cons of actually going to someone and explaining to them this brand-new kind of madness, all the while it sucked him in more and more each day, not only with his mind, but with his entire being…

Notes: Chapter 7 of Sense8 AU...this story will be so long oh my god. 

What’s Going On?

Alec had to lean on the wall in front of him to not collapse under his own weight. He knew that he had let out a sound in the end, so he started coughing to mask it. That, however, only added to the strain that he was putting on his bruised body, so much so that, after getting his pants back on as slowly as he could, he went back to the bed creaking and wheezing like an old man.

It had been worth it. When he laid down, Alec could swear he still felt that mind-blowing orgasm. As he looked up at the ceiling, he was still shell-shocked.

He had tried to just fall asleep; to breathe normally and ignore the rising heat gripping his body, his groin, because he was not going to masturbate in a damn hospital. But when, after more than an hour of immobility and stubbornly closing his eyes in search of sleep, his erection hadn’t given any sign of wanting to cool the fuck down…he would’ve gone mad if he didn’t slip a hand under his waistband. The light strokes had felt like heaven at first, but Alec was sure that it wouldn’t have taken long before he lost himself and forgot where he was, so he quickly – as quickly as he could in his condition – went to the bathroom to not make a mess in the bed.

If anyone ever learned about what he had done he would die of embarrassment, but, in that moment, he couldn’t have cared less that he was half naked and fucking himself a thin wall away from the other patients. Nor could he care about the utter madness that was finding himself entirely naked in a shower, with no pain accompanying his pleasure…because that gave him the possibility to let himself go. And oh, did he go off in that shower; he didn’t think he had ever been so wild, so desperate in his movements, or in the sounds he made, not even when he had been with someone else. He had slipped in and out of that hallucination, putting everything that he couldn’t do in the hospital into what ironically turned out to be the best sex of his life. And he let out a shout that he could still hear even when he got back in his own body, spilling himself into the toilet while he saw only red on the back of his eyelids. Mind-blowing.

He had been back in bed for a just few minutes before the doctor came to check up on him. Alec hoped the flush on his face wasn’t that obvious. Once Pangborn went away again, however, Alec fell asleep almost immediately, truly exhausted, so that he didn’t even have the time to wonder about what the fuck had just happened.

He asked himself that quite enough the next day. Almost obsessively, one could say, so that he more than made up for it. As soon as he woke up, he waited for the results of his scan literally with his heart in his throat.

“Well, then, Officer Lightwood, you ready to go home?” Doctor Pangborn greeted him early in the morning.

Alec blinked. “Ehm…don’t I have to wait for my results?”

“I have them here already.” The doctor smiled as Alec looked at him wide-eyed. “Oh, it’s all alright, see?”

Pangborn was handed a folder by one of the nurses accompanying him, from which he took a few papers. He showed them to Alec and pointed at a few different places on his brain scan.

“Everything’s normal. And you don’t have a concussion, it seems, so nothing to worry about.”

Alec was still blinking, uncomprehending, weirdly irritated by the smile still not leaving the doctor’s face. “B-but…forgive me, doctor, but are you sure? Nothing weird at all?”

“One-hundred percent sure. After a few weeks of rest, you’ll be back to normal.” Pangborn stared at him pointedly. “Why, do you have doubts? Are you not feeling well, Officer?”

Alec stared right back, and a few long moments passed in total impasse. Alec, for some reason, was liking the doctor’s jovial expression less and less by the second…

But he shrugged the feeling off, as Pangborn was an old friend of his father’s. He had treated their family for years, so there was no reason at all to feel suspicious. It was just his paranoia over recent events…events that he’d have to investigate most likely at a psychiatrist’s, not here.

“Of course not,” Alec said lightly. “Thank you, doctor. I’ll gladly go home.”

Alec was surprised when he saw that it was his father picking him up outside. He placed his bag on the backseat before getting in the car.

“Hey, hi, dad,” Alec greeted, trying to mask his unease.

“Alec. Everyone was at work,” Robert said back. The explanation had been unprompted, so he had noticed it. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Alec said simply.  

Silence fell as Robert started up the car.

Alec was still utterly puzzled by his father. Robert had never been a warm person, and Alec remembered a childhood when he was barely home. Then, he remembered him as the one who looked ashamed to have a gay son, when he had come out in high school. Robert had never actively said anything bad about it, but Alec knew. Otherwise, when his mother had finally divorced his father, he wouldn’t have lost contact with him for the following ten years.

Then, one day, Robert had simply come back into their lives and had asked to see his children weekly. Alec and Izzy had been adults already, but they had reluctantly agreed, for Max’s sake, and for their own, even though they hadn’t had much hope. But now, Robert seemed entirely genuine in his attempt at mending the past; he never missed their dinners, he asked about their lives and their aspirations, he was supportive of Izzy’s relationship, and had even told Alec that he was proud of him.

Still, if he was asked about his father’s reasons or what had made him change, Alec wouldn’t be able to give an answer.

He did appreciate it either way. Even if he didn’t quite know how to let his father in quite yet, after all this time, he was trying.

“Alec, if you take my wallet in the the glove box, I have something there for you,” Robert finally broke the silence.

“I don’t need money, dad…”

“No, it’s not that. Please.”

Alec was even more puzzled, but he reluctantly did as he was told.

“In one of the folders you’ll find a white business card,” Robert told him.

Alec found it and read it.

Dr. Tessa Gray, Psychologist.

Alec closed his eyes.

“Dad…” he started, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t know if he felt touched or embarrassed. Probably the latter. He surely didn’t want his father to think that he was incapable of doing his job now, or that he was weak…

“Listen to me, son.” Robert cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on the road. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Doctor Gray. She gave me the incentive that I needed, to finally realize what the important things in my life are. My children. Hope, and seeing the, the good in the world…”

Alec was holding his breath. He had never heard him talk so openly, especially not about his family.

“This is just a suggestion, okay?” Robert went on, glancing at him. “What happened yesterday is none of my business, but it is your business, and I don’t want to see you in a hospital again, since you might not be as lucky next time. You promise me that you’ll give it some thought? I bet they’ll have you do a psychic evaluation anyway, so at least I’ll know that you’re in good hands.”

Alec nodded mutely, and he had to swallow down a bigger lump, before he could speak again, “Yeah, dad. Thank you…really.”

He might have an answer now, after all.

“You need help bringing your things up?” his father asked him, once he parked by Alec’s apartment building.

“No, I’ve got it,” Alec said, smiling as he hugged his father. He groaned as his ribs gave a sign of protest.

“Sorry,” his father apologized, quickly breaking apart, but Alec shook his head, still smiling.

“See you, dad.”

“See you…get well.”

Alec did feel a bit lighter after that, but it still didn’t stop him, as soon as he entered his apartment, from letting out a big sigh. And that only because he couldn’t very well scream.

He’d go to that doctor, yes; he had to. And, hopefully, she’d be able to tell him if he was going crazy.

In the meanwhile, he wanted to sleep for ten thousand years.

He went to the bathroom first…and he wasn’t even that surprised when, after splashing his face with cold water, the reflection he saw in the mirror wasn’t his. Alec’s eyes widened, as him and the vision, Jace, stared at each other. And Alec’s mouth wordlessly moved, as if he wanted to say to his own hallucination that the fact that he hadn’t disliked their…dance, and that he had been about to kiss him, didn’t mean anything. Because, apparently, that was the state he was in; even knowing that this wasn’t real, his face still became flushed as he struggled to justify his attraction as if to an actual crush.

He was saved by the trill of his phone, and he looked down at it sitting on the sink. When he raised his eyes back to the mirror and saw only himself, however, Alec had to call himself stupid as he felt a pang of disappointment.

“Hey, Iz,” he answered, clicking on loudspeaker.

“Big bro! How are you feeling? I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to pick you up earlier, but I’m buried in work. Literally. My hands are in a body right now.”

“Gross. TMI.”

“I’m doing the autopsies of the victims of yesterday.”

Alec’s heart sank. “Oh. Yeah. I didn’t…how many?”

“Twenty.”

Alec sighed. “I should be at work too right now, instead of…”

“Hey, I don’t want to hear it. You need to take care of yourself first, okay? What are your plans?”

Alec knew what she meant. “Sleep…then, dad gave me his therapist’s number.”

Izzy paused. “Dad?” There was as much surprise in her voice as he had felt. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to go?”

Alec bit his lower lip. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.”

“I think I’ll really go sleep, now, though.”

“Yeah, go do that. I’ll come by when I can.”

“You don’t have-”

“Of course I will, I don’t want you to face all this alone. You hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Are you sure you’ll be fine in the meantime? Don’t say yes if it’s not real, I-”

“Iz, I’m fine, really. It was just one incident, I haven’t suddenly lost all ability to take care of myself. I’m an adult. I won’t fall into depression if I’m alone for a bit, okay?”

Izzy paused, and Alec heard a sigh. “Love you, Alec.”

“Love you, too.”

“I’ll still come by.”

“Okay. You’ll have to bring food, though.”

“Deal.”

“Bye, Iz.”

“Bye.”

Alec ended the call. He looked back at the mirror. His face was still partly swollen. No blond guy. No Jace.

He sighed.

Despite his good intentions, two weeks would end up passing before he could talk himself into calling that psychologist. All through it, he knew that he needed to go, and desperately. It was just that…he couldn’t help but obsessively ponder the pros and cons of actually going to someone and explaining to them this brand-new kind of madness, all the while it sucked him in more and more each day, not only with his mind, but with his entire being…  

As it stayed, two days earlier he had been a normal guy; now, one hour couldn’t pass without Alec catching a glimpse of him.

Jace taking a nap in the bed next to him; Alec turned on his side, his eyes opening, and he jumped, a spark of pain hitting his chest, upon seeing that beautiful sleeping face right in front of his nose, looking so peaceful in slumber. Jace’s breath hit him softly like a faraway breeze, and Alec’s heart started beating furiously, a hand rising to brush some hair away from Jace’s forehead before he could stop himself. When Jace disappeared a second later, Alec could’ve kicked himself, as his fingers tingled for far longer than that.

Jace walking on a busy street; Alec was in the kitchen, about to make himself lunch, and the next moment he was by Jace’s side. The loud sounds split his head in half, as he walked barefooted without feeling any pain, no cold, no hard ground. He looked up at the buildings around them, and he couldn’t help but be a little in awe… When he lowered his gaze again, Jace was staring at him with those peculiar eyes of his, and Alec forgot everything that he wanted to say, as his heart missed a beat. Then, he had to curse the smell of a burned burger that brought him back home…only because Jace had caused him to ruin his food, no other reason.

And the music…he heard it constantly. As he sat on his bed resting against a mountain of pillows, ice-pack placed on his swollen torso, and he went through his e-mails and get-well messages from colleagues, friends and family members (refraining himself from watching the news, if he didn’t only want to start biting his nails in frustration…), he found himself singing under his breath. He had never even heard that song .

“Twenty-five years, and my life is still…”

He was sitting behind the counter of a shop - a music shop, by the looks of it. Of course. And the song was playing at the radio. As Alec kept singing it, the voice coming out of him wasn’t his…

Then, Alec was sitting on the counter, watching Jace twirl his pen and sing. “I realized quickly when I knew I should…” Jace looked up at him, and there was a glint in his eyes that the smile playing on his lips only brightened. “And so I cry sometimes when I'm lying in bed just to get it all out…”

They were in Alec’s bed, Jace sitting right next to him, still singing, still with that stupid smile on his face.

“And so I wake in the morning and I step outside…c’mon, Alec, sing with me!”

Alec jumped, starting to draw away until he was at the edge of the bed. “What? No!”

“And I scream from the top of my lungs, what's going on?!” Jace stood up on the bed, and he looked down at Alec, his smile positively blindingnow. “Isn’t that just fitting?” he laughed, his arms stretched towards Alec, inviting him. “And I say, hey yeah yeah, hey yeah yeah…”

“I said hey, what's going on?” Alec flinched, but the words had already come out of his mouth.

Jace only laughed louder (how could even that sound be musical?). And what was the point of fighting it any longer? Alec had already let Jace take his hands, and he slowly managed to get himself upright with Jace’s help.

That was how he found himself singing badly, crazily, with the man in his head.

“And I say, hey yeah yeah, hey yeah yeah, I said hey, what's going on?”

“Jace? I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we have customers?” a shouted whisper reached them, and Jace, stunned, looked up at Alec, their faces exhilaratingly a few inches apart, before he disappeared.

Alec would’ve thrown himself back on the bed, but he had to resort to getting down carefully. His groan of frustration was telling anyway.  

So how could he just go and let this out into the world? He’d be locked up the next day.

Even if that might’ve been a bit extreme, Alec still had his reservations; because, if he was entirely honest with himself, a part of him also didn’t want to deal with it…quite yet.

It was just so, so, so damn…fun? Maddening in more ways than one. The frustration and the fear only one side of a coin, only the opposite to a thrill and excitement that he had never felt, except for every new time he saw Jace.

If he got rid of it…Alec truly feared that reality would start paling in comparison to that never-ending dream. So, with all the knowledge of how bad procrastinating the inevitable would be for him in the end, he slipped and fell right into it, unable, unwilling, to tune it out.

When Izzy and Lydia came over for dinner and to watch a movie, Alec plastered a big smile on his face the entire evening, just as Jace appeared intermittently through all of it.

“Ah! I love Harry Potter!” Jace exclaimed, landing next to him and staring at the screen.

Alec had to stuff pop-corn into his mouth to not respond to him.

“I’m going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed, or worse, expelled,” Jace recited Hermione’s line in the most high-pitched tone and the goofiest smile. “Such a great line.”

Alec rolled his eyes.

“Alec?”

Alec turned around, only to find both girls looking at him weirdly. “What?”

“You…” Lydia raised an eyebrow. “You just did a perfect British accent, like…perfect. When the hell did you learn that and how? You can’t hold back on me like this!”

“Truly, that was awesome!” Izzy echoed.

Alec’s mouth fell open, and he couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Jace, who was listening, surprised just as well. “I - I’m a field agent, I know many languages, thank you very much!”

“You’re a terrible liar, how come you’re a cop?” Jace told him bemusedly.  

“I know that,” Lydia pressed on, frowning, “but accents are always the worst thing? And you never did it so well?”

Alec huffed, almost feeling like swatting Jace away like a fly, as his leg kept bouncing up and down. “Well, it just happened. Can we go back to the movie?”

Izzy and Lydia shrugged and turned their heads away from him, snuggling closer under their blanket.

“A perfect accent just happened to you just as I’m a troll dancing in a tutu,” Jace whispered in his ear.

Alec snorted so bad that he choked on a popcorn.

“What, now, big bro? Didn’t you say to go back to the movie?” Izzy reprimanded him.

Alec was still coughing, stings of pain riddling his chest. “Sorry.”

Jace would truly be the death of him. The next day he would call that psychologist, he promised himself.

He went back to bed, after the girls left without any more incidents, and he fell asleep hoping that this bad dream would end when he woke up in the morning. Only half hoping, really…

He was woken up, instead, by the ear-splitting sound of an electric guitar. Alec opened his eyes with a gasp, his hands flying to cover his ears, but the sound didn’t stop at all. It only kept going and going, as Alec struggled to turn his phone’s light on…only to see that it was five in the bloody morning.

“Can’t you stop?! Must you practice at this hour?!” Alec yelled as soon as he saw Jace, who was tuning his guitar in what looked like a garage.

Jace raised his eyes. “It’s ten.”

“No, it’s not! I’m trying to sleep here, are you not done annoying me, like last night at my apartment?”

“What? You wanted me to miss the movie? That’s just rude. And you’re the one annoying me right now, this is my job.”

Alec huffed. He called that noise a job?

Two people entered the room; Alec had already briefly seen them, when Jace had been on stage. One was the guy with glasses at the piano who had sang with him, and the other was the guitarist.

“Hey, Simon, Maureen.” Jace waved at them, before handing the guitar to who must be Maureen.

“Bro, I’m surprised that you called a rehearsal on a Sunday morning?” the one who should then be Simon said, rubbing his eyes.

“Art never sleeps,” Jace shot back.

“You sleep plenty, if you ask me, I see you during the shifts at the shop!”

“We stay up late!”

“Guys, c’mon,” Maureen reprimanded them.

Alec was fuming during that entire exchange. He crossed his arms, letting out a sound that he hoped Jace heard, before he went back to his bed. Jace, however, just had to be Jace, and he appeared in his room a moment later.

“Hey, I’m sorry, you know it’s not my fault,” Jace said.

Alec turned off the light, closing his eyes.

“Hey, c’mon. Don’t you think we should…talk? About all of this?”

“There is nothing to talk about. You just need to get out of my head, smoke man.”

“Stop calling me that. And I don’t know how to do that, that’s why we should talk.”

Alec turned on the light again. “Right, have a conversation with the voice in my head. How very sane of me.”

“Are you still on about that?” Jace crossed his arms, his eyes darting around the room. “Do you still think this isn’t real?”

Alec’s entire face frowned. “What do you mean, am I still on about that? It’s been two days. I was perfectly normal before, and now I’ve gone crazy hallucinating you. Yes, this isn’t real.”

Jace didn’t say anything for a long while, and they just kept on staring at each other. The silence was deafening, a heartbeat the only thing to be heard. For a moment, Alec wondered whose that was.

“Whatever, I need to get back,” Jace finally said, averting his eyes.

Alec groaned. “Can you turn off the volume, at least?” Because that didn’t sound even more crazy at all.

“I’m not a tv!”

Alec groaned again, bringing an arm to cover his face. He just wanted to sleep. “Don’t you ever get tired? Of music? You’re surrounded by it every hour of the day!”

Jace opened his mouth, and Alec had to wonder why the hell he was still talking to him. Why was he even keeping him there? But every question vanished as soon as Jace started talking again, “No. I don’t get tired of music, that’s…”

“How did you get into it?” Alec asked, genuinely curious. (Wait, what the fuck?)

Jace shrugged. “I needed an outlet besides punching things when I was a teen.”

“Punching things?”

“I’m a black belt in Krav Maga.”

Alec paused. “Oh. Me, too.”

Jace grinned. “Of course you are, Officer.” Then he turned serious again. “But yeah, I mean, it started like that, but then I fell in love with it. And music is just one of those things that you don’t ever fall out of love with, you know? You only ever…fall more and more for it every day, if you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Alec answered before he could think about it. That had come out more like a sigh…and Alec had to clear his throat, shrugging himself off from just staring at Jace’s mouth as it moved.

“You have something like that?” Jace asked him softly, oblivious to Alec’s sudden discomfort.

Alec stayed quiet for a long moment, before he came to a decision. He threw off the covers from over himself, and he struggled to get up.

“Hey, careful…” Jace said, his arms outstretched towards him, suddenly far closer to Alec that he had been.

Alec swatted him away. “Follow me.” (As if he needed to say it.)

Alec put on a hoodie, grabbed his apartment keys, and went out the door and to the elevator.

“Where the hell are you going? It’s late, and you’re in your pyjamas…”

Alec didn’t respond, he simply pressed the button to the top floor.

Jace stayed wordlessly by his side until they reached the rooftop, and then Alec’s telescope, where Alec removed the sheet covering it.

“You know what, I will thank you for reminding me that I haven’t been up here in far too long.” Alec traced the length of his telescope with nimble fingers, and the chills he got weren’t just from the cold night air. “I don’t know if it can compare, but it was always something I loved to do.”

“Watching the stars?” Jace said.

Alec looked back at him, a smirk playing on his lips. “Surprised? Am I too cranky for such a calm hobby?”

“No, actually.” Jace smiled. “It fits you quite right.”

Alec caught himself studying Jace’s face once more. He averted his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be at your rehearsal?”

“I am. Somehow, I’m doing both things.”

Alec shook his head. Right. He needed to stop asking him questions as if he was a real person. He brought his eye to the lens.

“Show me something,” Jace demanded, his voice almost lost in the sudden wind.

Alec sighed. “Here, if you see that group on the right…”

Jace leaned closer, and Alec felt his breath grazing against his skin. More chills that weren’t caused by the cold.

What was going on, indeed?

[poop4u]

The Best Exercise For a Dog is Using Its Nose

#Poop4U

Maggie, Skip, Jim and I are just back from a lovely hour-long walk this morning. All four of us were serenaded by the songs of a newly-arrived migrating birds, including Yellow and Palm Warblers.

                                             Bird photos from Wikipedia, such a great resource.

Jim and I gloried in the sights of these gorgeous birds, the French-blue sky after a day of rain, and baby leaf buds springing forth, full of life and promise and hope.

While we walked and looked, the dogs walked and sniffed. And sniffed and sniffed and sniffed and sniffed. Yes, they got some physical exercise–especially good for Skip now that he can take longer walks along with his physical therapy exercises. But mostly what they got was brain food, and I can’t think of anything more important for a domestic dog than that. There’s a lot going on between those adorable ears, and we neglect it at our peril. Using their noses engages a dog’s brain in vital ways, and can prevent a raft of behavioral problems.  Lots of interesting sniffing has been critical to keeping a just-turned, three-year old freight train of a Border Collie sane during his extreme physical restrictions. (Not to mention my sanity. Just saying.)

I was reminded of a post I wrote in 2016 titled Take Your Dog on a Sniff, and I thought today would be a good day to repeat it. There are so many people with new dogs out there, along with so many people with dogs/kids/jobs/life/pandemics taking up massive amounts of our time and energy.  The best way I know to tire out a dog out in a healthy way is not to get it physical exercise, but to give it mental exercise. Tricks are one way to do that, but letting a dog use its nose-brain connection is another. You can do that by playing scent games, or going on walks (especially in new places), and the pay off is huge. Skip and Maggie came back to chew on stuffed Kongs, and are now sleeping at my feet while I write.

Here’s the post from 2016, Take Your Dog on a Sniff:

Recently I watched someone walking his dog close to my office in Black Earth. Every ten feet or so the dog tried to stop to sniff the ground, and every time she did, the man at the other end of the leash pulled her forward so that he could continue walking. Ah, the canine-primate disconnect, which never fails to appear if we just pay attention. I wrote an entire book about this, The Other End of the Leash, and yet I’m still discovering ways in which we struggle to merge our ethological needs.

Primates love to walk, at least, terrestrial ones like humans do. Not only that, but we like to walk side-by-side with our friends, to face the world together and exchange the news of the day. While we’re walking we spend a lot of energy looking around—enjoying the view and noting what has changed in the neighborhood. Dogs, on the other hand, primarily want to learn about the environment through olfaction, a sense that we humans are better at than we think, but often pay little attention to. But how many of us insist that our dogs don’t stop to smell the roses, but walk or trot happily by our side? It is why, in Family Friendly Dog Training, I suggest that dogs define heeling as “walk slowly and ignore all interesting things”. This photo, by the way, is Susannah Charleson’s Search and Rescue dog Puzzle, with Susannah in the background. (If you haven’t read her books yet, you’re lucky–because now you get to. Don’t miss them, they’re great.)

Dog owners aren’t alone in ignoring the olfactory needs of animals. Birte Nielsen and colleagues published an important paper in December of 2015 titled “Olfaction: An Overlooked Sensory Modality in Applied Ethology and Animal Welfare.” They argue, compelling, that we do animals a disservice by not acknowledging the impact of odor on their behavior and wellbeing. These odors can both cause suffering or improve lives. Jenna Bueley, DVM, found that air captured from a busy, stress-filled urban veterinary clinic increased stress-related behavior in dogs, reported at the 2012 IFAAB conference. Clark and King, noted in Nielsen’s article, found that olfactory stimulation increased behavioral diversity and activity levels in captive black-footed cats. But note… the same study found that odors had little effect on the behavior of captive gorillas. Ah, that primate thing again.

You don’t need me to tell you how important smell is to a dog. None of us are surprised that years ago, Bradshaw and Lea found that the vast majority of a dog’s interaction with a new dog related to olfaction (1992). But I think we all, me included, need to be reminded of how much “going on a walk” can be defined by us as “walking while looking and perhaps talking,” while to a dog, “going on a walk” means moving from one interesting smell to another.

It is important, but not natural, for us to acknowledge the essential nature of the sense of smell. Examples of its importance abound: Wells and Hepper (2006) found that day-old pups preferred the scent of aniseed if their mother’s food had contained it while they were pregnant. Think about that—it means that dogs can learn to associate emotions, and thus behavior, with a particular smell even before they are born. (Breeders take note.) It also appears that the perception of scent is lateralized in the brain in dogs. Sinischalchi and colleagues (“Sniffing with the right nostril” 2011) found that dogs preferred to use the right nostril when sniffing new scents, and switched to the left when the scent became routine, or non-threatening. Dogs who smelled arousing stimuli (adrenalin, sweat) never switched to the left nostril. Since the right nostril is linked to the right hemisphere of the brain (it’s an exception to the usual switch, left eye to right brain for example—if that stopped you for a moment, it did me too…), this suggests that olfaction in a dog’s brain is lateralized, and that the sympathetic HPA axis (hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal, or “on alert!” axis) is primarily mediated by the right hemisphere in dogs.

[Addendum added in 2020: And now we now that a dog’s nose can sense heat. Who knows what else they can do with their noses!]

This all circles around to the title of the blog: Take your dog on a sniff. I’ve written before that dogs need autonomy to be truly happy. I’m arguing here that what they most need is the freedom to use their noses. That is easy for us who can walk our dogs off leash. But leashed dogs need owners willing to compromise—an invigorating primate walk with our dogs trotting alongside part of the time, and the rest includes the dog getting, finally, the freedom to go from scent to scent and all the stimulation and information that entails.

Full disclosure: I’ve been good for years about letting my dogs stop to sniff when we are walking on leash, but lest I sound smug, guess how many photos I have of my dogs sniffing something? Three. Only three. That’s compared to literally hundreds of photos of my dogs playing together or with toys. Ah, that primate thing again. (Happy to say I updated that this morning, in May 2020, when I took a lot of sniffing photos.)

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Skip is progressing by leaps and bounds, and we got a green light from UW physical therapist Courtney Arnoldy to give him a bit more freedom. Here she is working on weight loading Skip’s back right leg through a series of exercises that we replicate in the garage. (I watch on FaceTime, can’t go into the building. The photo was taken by assistant Haley, who was invaluable in keeping Skip focused while Courtney set up some of the exercises.)

Half of our walk this morning was with Skip on a long line rather than a short leash, so he got lots of time to trot rather than just walk fast. I’ve tried letting him off leash for a brief period of time and it’s pretty much what I thought it’d be: Two seconds of Skip standing still, and then exploding as if out of a rocket for twenty strides–the time it takes me to say Stand! and call him back to me. It’s just impossible to ease a young dog into getting a graduated amount of exercise, but I’m doing the best I can. Our next PT appt is next Monday, and I have hopes that his leg will be sound enough that I really can let him run for a few minutes without causing a set back.

Here are the dogs wearing out their brains while we listen to the birds.

  If you follow the blog you know I love to cook, and I’ve done even more of it since Jim and I are staying Safe at Home as much as we can. Saturday I made the dough for these cinammon date rolls, and Sunday morning I got up early to make up the rolls and let them rise a second time before baking. (Or, “proof” if you’re British, says the woman binge watching The Great British Baking Show over and over and over again) . They look pretty good in the photo for sure, but I have to say, they taste even better. Healthy? Uh, nope. I’m making amends by making a lovely chicken/asparagus dish tonight, but I just picked fresh rhubarb and I have this recipe for rhubarb cake that is out of this world . . .

    Friend and kick ass photographer Stephn Dahlgren came out to the farm last week to take some more photos. We haven’t seen most of them yet, but here’s one of Nellie, who, of course, managed to photo bomb what had been a great opportunity for a Trisha/Skip photo in lovely light. Nellie is highly displeased that twice a day I have to keep her out of the garage to do Skip’s physical therapy. She is making it clear by ripping the hell out of the wooded frame to the garage door, the message being clear: This is MY GARAGE. CAN YOU NOT READ THE SCENT MARKS AND VISUAL SIGNALS?

I hope you are hanging in there during this challenging time. As a dear niece said to me recently, “We’re all in the same storm but in different boats.” I hope your boat is keeping you afloat safely and without too much suffering.

Poop4U Blog via www.Poop4U.com Trisha, Khareem Sudlow