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shining-star-system · 2 months

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I’m gonna be honest, sometimes I really despise it when people push for therapy or constantly tell me that I need therapy.

For one, I know I do. I’m fully aware that therapy will more and likely help me more.

But that’s where the issues I have come in.

I cannot speak about my own troubles because to me I:

Don’t have enough proof it existed

Live in a state that I’m too afraid to even mention having psychotic symptoms let alone a cdd

In this same state, too afraid that I’d be told it’s “just me being a woman” and sent directly to a mental institution rather than actually getting helped

“Shining, therapy isn’t that bad!”

For you, maybe. But I get so scrambled and scared of therapists. I am afraid of doctors for my own reasons that I won’t say because I know that it is triggering.

The only therapist that I know of that is extremely sweet, kind, patient, and close to me I refuse to go to because he looks like my abuser. Is he different? Yes. But there’s enough look alike that he looks like him, and I cannot deal with that.

If I can have two teachers look like my abuser, one of the multiple, and feel like everything he says is law and shit and then have people making rumors that I’m having an affair with one or both of them? I’d rather the therapist also not get hit with the fucking “you’re too close to this person who sees you as both comfort and something to fear so fuck your job” ray.

I cannot help what my brain says when I see people that look exactly like my abuser, it’s not something I have come to terms with yet and I’m working on everything piece by piece because that’s all I can do.

I also don’t have the financial income for therapy. I’d rather have the self help and the finances of having a happy family and happy cats, my mental health is fine and I’ve been dealing with it for ages in a way that helps me.

If I can Sherlock myself and find what’s causing the issues, even if I cause myself a migraine, hyperfixate on those issues to figure them out, and can actually get everything done. I’ll stick with it. Otherwise, I’ll take my time.

If it is something that I dont deem serious enough, I can do it on my own.

My hip pain? I want to the ER for.

The depression and anxiety that I have been able to manage on my own because of a neglectful father who also happens to be a leading cause of why I feel therapy isn’t an option? I can manage it on my own still. There’s things that help me better than what a therapist can.

Does this mean I won’t be able to help everything? Absolutely.

Does this mean I might not be able to deprogram or figure out my cues? Yea, but that’s something I can live with if it means me associated now to my partner being the Best Being on the planet.

I will gladly take a cue telling me to throw myself at my wife’s feet and do anything she tells me with a look of desperation if it means that I’m with her. No matter what. Why? Because she doesn’t hurt me and that’s what matters to me.

I can slowly work on the cues and ground myself. I’ve started doing that. Sometimes it’s too much for me and that’s okay. I’ll go relax. I’ll do my own thing even if I’m having issues that are severe.

But it’s just… stop telling people that they need therapy when they’re more and likely already knowing that they do, but they have reasons not to.

It’s not something everyone can get and not everyone is able to get things that can help. The majority of therapists here need insurance, something I might not have in a few years because I’m riding out my time of the plan I have with my father so I can make sure my wife and I are stable.

“Well why don’t you work?”

I’m taking care of kids and cats and doing something I enjoy. Do I struggle with house keeping? Yes. But it’s better than having to deal with panic attacks because I’m not perfect in what I do first try. I have only ever worked one job, I get anxious a lot and struggle to get up to go. This could change with a night shift job, but I’m still taking care of kids on days when the rest of the family is working because they can’t afford a babysitter so I’m the free one.

“Why are you working for free?!”

Because I’m valuable and I get a roof over my head with meals and people that care. A free babysitter? People would take that with stride at times. I have a place to live and that’s all that matters to me right now. I have a place to live with my cats and my lover and that’s all that matters. The money doesn’t matter to me when that money is going to the house.

I have no biological ties to the people here, but they are my family and they treat me as such.

But regardless.

Stop trying to force people to get something that they can’t do or just don’t want to do.

And if you’re gonna comment or reblog saying shit, I will block you. I do not want therapy for my own reasons and situations so do not force me regardless of the benefits of getting it.

Therapy will not work for me. Self help does. I can go at my own pace and not have any expectations except for the ones I put on me.

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system-of-a-feather · 6 months

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Relating to this post and this post, but I feel there is this stigma around "being triggeered" an acting in a way that is charged by the fact you are "triggered" as though it undermines your actions, invalidates your actions, or makes you wrong because its some "mental health symptom"

But being triggered literally has no weight to it and while it provides context, does not inherently make anything right or wrong, good or bad, valid or not.

In fact, I would even make the claim that being triggered really isn't inherently even a negative thing to be in all situations. Often times? Yes. Sometimes though? Its adaptive, appropriate, and useful to handle situations.

The difference? Control, awareness, and moderation - as well as just generally how deeply triggered you are. (cause if you are having full on flashbacks and full dissociative freeze, theres little 'control' you can put to that level of triggered; for the point of this post, I am talking about emotionally triggered / passively triggered)

There is nothing inherently wrong with operating in / from a mindset informed and charged by past experiences. Can it be excessive? Yes. Can it cloud judgement? Yes. Can it get out of hand and become self destructive / harmful and add more stress and harm to oneself if left to fester? Yes. Are any of those inherently going to happen if you indulge and allow those feelings to have space to air and inform your decisions? Absolutely not.

Cause here's the thing - especially with DID - being triggered can take up a fucking huge part of your life if you have C-PTSD or a CDD - thats just the facts of the life. If you have DID, you might have parts and fragments that in the very essence of them, are going to be triggered cause theyre trauma holders, EPs, fragments, and what not. Some of them literally don't exist outside of the constant internal existence of what they've been through. If you are going to wait until you are "not triggered" to live your life, you are never going to get anywhere. If you treat being triggered as this moral failing or intellectual failing, you are going to deeply struggle to build a loving relationship with the hurt you've been through.

The ways you act when you are triggered had / have a purpose. Even if the behavior is 99.9% of the time maladaptive and unhealthy, at least ONCE in your life it was adaptive and served to tell and communicate something stupid fucking important - otherwise it would not be there.

The challenge is figuring out what that stupid fucking important thing is beyond the stress that those 99.9% maladaptive behaviors and mindsets while triggered are, but every part and every trauma response is there to tell you something you need to know.

If you are able to be okay with being triggered, know where it comes from, know what its trying to tell you, know where it intends to go and what it will want to do, and you are able to walk away from it when you realize it is no longer serving you, being "triggered" can be an aid in your recovery and life in the occasional moments when that percentage of "adaptive behavior" presents itself.

XIV 1.0 was a pure solid EP who literally only experienced sadistic high from causing problems and screwing over established structures and would ACTIVELY look for things to be annoyed at / mad about and people making silly exploitable mistakes so that he could make them regret it and so he could get a high of some ambiguous concept of "dominating" and thus crushing people. It stems from the fact that in our household it was eat or be eaten and the most aggressive manipulative and intimidating person controlled the house, including safety, security, food, and if our dad was going to rage and hurt people. Having that insane high and joy from sadistically dominating people the second they make a single exploitable mistake is something that SEVERELY saved our ass growing up when we were a preteen left to figure out how to make sure our parents didn't get us killed.

Upon fusing with Rayku years ago I really realized as FUNNY and FUN as all that shit still registered to me, as much of an addictive high it gave me, the only place that shit was going to get me was an early grave and hurting everyone else in the system so I put a few years into learning to put that skill and joy on the shelf to use if it is ever needed again.

And every so often? Someone gets power hungry and abusive in a way that is fucked up and needs to be shaken, torn down, and have the small little mistakes exploited to punish shitty people behavior, and yeah, I'll be running off of a similar mindset to my trauma environment. Yeah I'll be having almost the same feelings and disproportionate focus and adrenaline. Yeah I'll essentially be having a passive emotional ""flashback"", but at any point, anyone in the system can say "hey XIV thats enough" and I literally can take a deep breath, sigh, and put it aside and go "yeah you're right"

I can choose to allow this to fester and direct my actions and I can choose to put it away as we see it necessary.

So yeah I am probably technically "triggered", but thats honestly by intention. Its helpful and adaptive. It lets me take down shit I find disgusting. I can put it away whenever I want to, I just simply choose to not, because in this moment, being triggered is far more helpful and adaptive to my current goals in life than being placated and peaceful. Plus, because we can turn it on and off as we need, everyone else can just exist as they do while I sit and indulge this when I feel the need to and trust that others will just tell me to cool it if I ever get too deep.

Cause honestly, its also this openness to indulge "being triggered" that is like... honestly the crux of being able to fuse and unfuse at relative will. It's how Chunn and I fuse and unfuse like every few weeks. We choose to indulge our exaggerated corners of the brain when we want to be seperate and shrug it off and let them meld when we want to be together.

#alter: xiv #fusion fuckery #wishiwashi #wishiwashi recovery #trauma talk #cptsd #ptsd #actuallydid #dissociative identity disorder #final fusion #functional multiplicity #syscussion #sysconversation #xiv rant

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eroticcannibal · 2 years

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yeah, i think the main issue is people just don't realise gc2b runs SMALL. my ribcage measurement is 28", in most things i am an extra small, but i wear a medium in gc2b and would actually probably order a large these days just to have a little more shoulder space.

which reminds me - they include shoulder measurements for a reason, and specifically say to size UP or go with the largest size for your measurements if you're between sizes or have one size for your chest and a different for your shoulders.

i also feel like a lot of people assume it's the chest measurement that's important, when really, the shoulder one is too. i couldn't even get both shoulders into an extra small pre-T, and that's the size i'd wear going solely by my chest. years later my chest measurement is the same, but my shoulders are a lot broader, so while i can fit into a small, it causes my arms to go numb. (so i don't wear them, obviously.)

also honestly all of my binders from them have had stitching break eventually, usually around the bottom of the binding panel. i think it's just the nature of sewing an inelastic panel to elastic fabric. happened faster with the smalls, and since i got them shortly before i went on T i think you may be on to something with the whole "seams popping from trying to wear something too small" idea, since my shoulders did get broader quickly.

^^^ all very correct

Honestly even with the sizing running small they really do seem a lot more accomadating of body shape than fucking underworks (which I've seen ppl reccomending instead). Like me and the child have similar health complaints that can be set off by compression and poorly fitting clothing (and both curvy as hell which just means almost everything sets off symptoms) and the GC2B binder was able to compress to a reasonable degree and only trigger incredibly mild symptoms that only really reached uncomfortable after quite a few hours. Like yes not everyone is going to have our health issues but imo given the problems we have we are a good test of "is this binder alright".

I will admit I almost did order a too small binder for the child cus going by the size chart it is a large. And im like nah. This is an eleven year old child! Fat adults wear these binders it can't be a LARGE. but I went against my instincts and ordered a large and well. Can you believe it. It fits. The child is a large. So I can easily see how people would end up with poorly fitting binders if they don't trust the chart or pull the tape a bit too tight or think nah it will be fine lets go one smaller for some extra compression.

And yeah regarding stitching and such. Like aside from the fact a lot of people wear them a LOT. Ime some kinds of clothes and some kinds of fabrics are just gonna wear faster. Compression stuff especially! I used to wear a lot of compression gear cus sensory issues and it does just wear. The compression adds strain to the seams. The force of your body pushing out wears the elastic. Washing and drying wears the elastic. Like sure ok I expect they will have made at least one defective one that fell apart too soon but like. U gotta adjust ur expectations with binders. They are going to fail at some point and quite possibly sooner than expected.

(And also I barely wore my underworks one cus fibro and the hemming was already going)

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foolforjustice · 8 months

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I finally found the way to mute words and tags on tumblr and its beautiful.

I also deleted the twitter app last night due to too much triggering content.

I can scroll my tumblr feed and see *nothing* that triggers me. My filters are doing their job. I can finally use social media again without having to worry about getting triggered. Everything was muted this morning! I scrolled my feed when I woke up and I had no PTSD symptoms. It was amazing. I hope it stays like this.

I know that a subset of people think that muting triggering stuff means that I am The Actual Devil, Evil Incarnate, Everything Wrong With This World.

And you're probably right tbh. You're also probably the sort of person who would think my intrusive thoughts make me a bad person. I don't even disagree. But you should probably unfollow me, if you hate me or people like me that much.

Anyway, when I say I get triggered by something, I don't mean "I'm a little upset & uncomfortable and I don't wanna be! WAAAAH!" This seems to be what people who say that people like me are The Actual Devil think we mean when we say the word "triggered," so I want to clarify what that word actually means for me.

It means that my fight or flight mode becomes fully activated to the point where my body feels like my life is in danger, my intrusive thoughts get so bad that I can't focus on anything else, and it can take me hours to come down. This does not happen to me because I am a fragile little privileged snowflake who needs to be exposed to the world. It happens because I have severe PTSD, which I am in therapy for.

If this happens while I'm working, it means I'm basically fucked for the rest of the afternoon, unless I dissociate (which is something I'm actively trying to stop doing so much). If this happens before I'm about to sleep, I can't sleep for most of the night.

Guess when I often scrolled Twitter? On my work breaks, and when I was about to go to sleep. Because it used to be something free, fun, and relaxing to do, it was an easy way to engage with the fandom stuff that makes me happy, and my muted words used to do their job.

While it is true that I need to be able to work and sleep in order to live, the initial effects of the trigger are not the only effects. It can cause lasting problems for days, including nightmares, irritability, brain fog, exhaustion (because fight or flight mode is exhausting), and increased intrusive thoughts (which I can get even when I am not triggered & which can be disruptive to my well being). If I'm triggered multiple times, these symptoms compound on each other.

I also have a (fairly) new physical health issue, which I recently learned will require surgery. I actually need to not be in fight or flight mode right now, because stress can exacerbate the issue, and I need to have the spoons to prepare certain food because I have been placed on a specialized diet to manage the condition until I have the surgery, and I won't have the energy to do that unless I am not in fight or flight mode all the time.

If I don't do this, the best case scenario is that I will have a flare up, which is some of the worst physical pain I have ever experienced & which can last for hours. The worst case scenario is that the condition will progress to something more serious, and I will wind up in the hospital needing emergency surgery. "Emergency surgery" doesn't mean "awwww I have an Owwie and I need a surgery to feel better!" It means, "this condition is threatening my life."

(Also yes I recognize access to medical care is a privilege. It is one I have only had for 3 years but yes, it is a privilege, and without it I'd probably be dead or in prison, so I am very privileged to not be dead or in prison, unlike the many under-privileged people posting on social media from beyond the grave or from their maximum security prison.)

So, basically, I deleted the Twitter app for my own well being, which makes me The Actual Devil according to a subset of people. I am currently able to use Tumblr both because the triggering stuff isn't as prevalent here (though it's still very prevalent) and because the word filters actually work and the violence filter exists & mostly works and people write long form posts which are less likely to escape the filters because they're more likely to contain a filtered word.

If any of this changes, I'll delete Tumblr too, and the only social apps I will use will be AO3, Messenger, and possibly Tiktok if it continues to be safe. I will most likely stay away from these sites until the triggering content has dissipated or until I've gotten the surgery, if not longer.

But hey, if I do wind up in the hospital, at least you can guarantee I'll write more fanfic.

#ptsd #tw medical #tw surgery #tw

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srhhrtmn21222 · 9 months

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Step 2 - Insanity

Did I believe I could control my using? What were some of my experiences with this, and how were my efforts unsuccessful?

There's only been one time that I tried to stay clean by my will-power alone. All of the effort was flushed down the toilet when my ex and I received his inheritance. Over a course of 2-3 months, we spent THOUSANDS of dollars on meth and marijuana. (Although a small portion went towards a pop-up camper that we lived in during the middle of winter.) After realizing I would start using as soon as I was given a lump-sum of money, I knew my will-power alone would never keep me clean.

2. What things did I do that I can hardly believe I did when I look back at them? Did I put myself in dangerous situations to get drugs? Did I behave in ways of which I'm now ashamed? What were those situations like?

The biggest thing I am ashamed of doing was cheating on my (now) ex while he was incarcerated. The biggest slap in the face was that I was stupid enough to continue hanging out with his friends (with the guy I was cheating on him with, which happened to be his best friend at the time). Luckily, my instances of which I could have been in danger, I was with guys that I believe would try their best to keep me safe. Luckily, I never had to test that theory. Looking back, I'm also ashamed of the times I stole and lied to get the money I needed to continue using.

3. Did I make insane decisions as a result of my addiction? Did I quit jobs, leave friendships and other relationships, or give up on achieving other goals for no reason other than that those things interfered with my using?

The only time I left a relationship was because I knew in my heart that we were not good for each other. We tried staying sober together, and we relapsed together. Even while sober, I was not happy with him. It took physical abuse to finally make me realize I needed to get out. The only job I ever quit (while using) I contemplated for weeks (maybe even months) before I finally did it. I did, however, get fired from a job and responded in the not best way. I walked out the door with both middle fingers held high in the air.

4. Did I ever physically injure myself or someone else in my addiction?

Thankfully, I held onto my desire to do right by others. I never intentionally harmed anyone, and for those I unintentionally harmed, I am truly remorseful. I did tend to cut myself (on my thighs) when my depression got out of hand while using.

5. How have I overreacted or underreacted to things?

I used to tend to overreact to anyone asking me if I was using. I would deny that I was, and get extremely pissed if someone pointed out the obvious signs that I was. Most situations I overreacted to. I honestly can't remember a situation that I underreacted to.

6. How has my life been out of balance?

I struggled a lot with my mental health, and spending money. I still struggle, but it's not nearly as bad as it was while I was using.

7. In what ways does my insanity tell me that things outside myself can make me whole or solve all my problems? Using drugs? Compulsive gambling, eating, or sex seeking? Something else?

Drugs never made me feel like they would make me whole, or even solve my problems. It made me forget about the things in life. I didn't see my problems as actual problems. I did, however, THINK that drugs made me feel whole. But looking back now, I can see I was more empty than I have ever been.

8. Is part of my insanity the belief that the symptom of my addiction (using drugs of some other manifestation) is my only problem?

Originally, yes. Now that I've had some sobriety time, I can see that there's other issues that I need to address.

9. When we've acted on an obsession, even though we knew what the results would be, what were we feeling and thinking beforehand? What made us go ahead?

For me, I never really stopped beforehand to think. I simply acted. My biggest trigger was an abundance of emotions that I didn't know how to deal with.

#NA #RecoveringAddict #NAWorkbook

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jesusonafrickinboat · 2 years

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I posted 185 times in 2022

14 posts created (8%)

171 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@heartrenderharrington

@smokeyrutilequartz

@therealpancakeo

@runaway-horses

@lo-brokeit

I tagged 161 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#stranger things - 32 posts

#stranger things s4 - 21 posts

#eddie munson - 19 posts

#tua - 17 posts

#steve harrington - 17 posts

#the umbrella academy - 15 posts

#steddie - 14 posts

#the sandman - 13 posts

#klaus hargreeves - 12 posts

#st4 - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#but yes! he's always been a himbo that loves his family! he just needed to be deconditioned from reggie's bs & reconditioned for socializing

My Top Posts in 2022:

ok but I wish Eddie would have zipped up his leather jacket cause leather is harder to chew through than like, a cotton t-shirt

16 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

Umbrella Academy incorrect quotes via this generator

See the full post

41 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

See the full post

44 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

As someone who has post-viral disabilities/conditions, it absolutely INFURIATES me that, despite a mass rise in post-viral disabilities/conditions (aka long-covid), IT’S STILL NOT BEING RESEARCHED.

I had a virus in May 2016 (end of 8th grade), the symptoms of which (plus more as time went on) never went away. I was diagnosed with celiac disease in 2017, followed by POTS, fibromyalgia, CFS/ME, chronic pain, and more - none of which have a cure. (There are also several conditions that I’ve researched and am almost certain I have as a result of that virus over half a decade ago, but I’m still waiting to get appointments with those specialists.) Since being diagnosed, I have done various treatments/medications, had many appointments with specialists & physical therapists, and have done basically all I can to get better.

Now it’s 2022. It’s been 6 years since the virus and 5 years since the first diagnosis. Can I do more than I could in 2017? Absolutely! I don’t want to say that it will never get better, because it does - just slowly (and at a different pace for everyone). But I’m still NOWHERE near where I was before 2016, certainly not even close to what I might have been able to do now if the virus hadn’t happened. I had to switch to homeschool (away from my friends, though better for my physical and mental health) for 10th-12th grade. Last summer, I rode a bike for the first time since 2016, and I was still in pain afterwards. I’m finally at a place where I can start doing the things I used to be able to do or have missed out on (ex: making my own lunch, learning to drive, going to college), but it’s a very delicate balance. I’m at a place where some of these things are finally in sight (I won’t say in reach yet), and it’s frustrating to desperately want to do them and know I’m so close to being able to, but I still have to be really careful.

Because of my constellation of conditions, it has been incredibly difficult to improve my health. For example: one of the best ways to treat POTS is by exercising, but exercising also unfortunately triggers CFS/ME flare ups (due to post-exertional malaise), which in turn triggers chronic pain, etc. The worst part is that it’s nearly impossible to tell when you’ve overdone it in the moment, which means that after doing more rigorous exercise, I have to make sure I don’t schedule anything for the next 2-3 days in case of a flare up. I know I’m not the only one with complicated, contradictory, incredibly difficult co-morbidities, which is one reason why it takes so long to even start healing post-virus.

I’m upset that there are SO MANY people with long-covid that are receiving the same treatment myself and others have received in terms of our post-viral illnesses. I was hopeful that, even though the last thing I wanted was more people having to go through what I’ve been going through for 6 years, this rise in post-viral cases would have pushed more research into why it happens and how to cure (or at least better treat) the most common disabilities/conditions that it results in.

Instead, like other post-viral illnesses, we’ve continued to see small, underfunded groups research the resulting individual conditions (CFS/ME, POTS, etc) without the funding to come together to research the co-morbidities as a whole, while the majority of the population (including medical professionals, news sources, the general population, etc) at best completely ignore and at worst utterly deny the existence of long-covid.

And I’m so tired.

300 notes - Posted June 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Can we talk about how the afterlife gets more and more colorful as Klaus becomes more and more in control of his powers? Cause that’s BRILLIANT filmmaking right there

11,878 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #good lord that's a lot of notes on the Klaus afterlife post #definitely the most notes I've ever gotten on a post #also the longest tag was about Luther Hargreeves if it wasn't clear #also only 185 posts? y'all I've been busy #it feels like more but that's probably because I reblog to genzforbettergenerations more often #although it is 20 more posts than last year

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sixeyesgojo · 3 years

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jjk characters handling your period

Summary: “What do you mean, no baby this month either? Okay, suffer then.” - your damn uterus

Pairings: Gojo/Megumi/Nanami/Naoya/Toji x Reader

Content warning: the monthly bloody nightmare your uterus puts you through and the whole shebang that comes with it, language warning, suggestive themes, explicit warning for Toji (you’ll see why)

A/N: purely self-indulgent because I suffer. @megumifushi and @sukirichi , my gals, I gotcha. Also dedicated to all readers who suffer from the same fate (may it be right now or not). Also: Yes, absolutely open the video I linked in Megumi’s part (it’s safe, I promise).

Gojo Satoru

You turn and turn in bed uncomfortably. Something isn’t right, you think and it’s not the fact that Satoru is missing next to you. Not knowing immediately irritates you. All of a sudden you become painfully aware of your lower region. Yes, of course it had to be that time of the month. You just knew you already stained your panties and perhaps the sheets haven’t been spared either. Getting out of bed, then realizing it was already past noon, you sprinted to the bathroom. Fuck, moving fast was not a good idea.

Having changed the sheets and your stained panties, you made your way to the kitchen. Your stomach growled, signaling you were hungry, but at the same time you feared. Smelling food, let alone tasting too much of it, was a slippery slope – either your nose would protest or your stomach, no in-between. Regardless, you had to eat; or were you supposed to starve to death because of this? Not in this lifetime. “I AM BACK!” an annoyingly loud voice rang through the apartment. You groan and turn around. “Fuck off, Satoru,” you say. Your irritation flaring up for seemingly no reason. “Stop being so motherfucking loud. My head feels like it’s going to split in two and my pussy is fighting the crimson war right now,” you snarled at him.

“Oh honey, seems like I called the right shots then,” he declared proudly and held up a bag filled with... snacks? “I already called in sick for you for the next few days,” Satoru continued to explain as he wrapped his arms around you, “and I’ll be by your side 24/7 for the next two days. We’ll do fun stuff. How does movie night with lots of cuddling for tonight sound?”

“Why are you so nice to me right now?” you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes. “Simple: I don’t want to be castrated by you,” he whispered back and planted a kiss on your cheek. “Fair enough. What will we do tomorrow?” He stayed silent but pulled out a black card out of his sleeve. You gasped.

Fushiguro Megumi

Ping. A notification. Quickly, you scrambled to get your phone to see what that was about. You desperately needed some distraction right now. The pain was too much. Your boyfriend Megumi had gone somewhere you didn’t know. All you knew was that your boobs were sore, the sensitive nipples rubbing against the fabric were already too much. In addition to that, you also experienced period cramps, resulting in back pain as well. Life was not easy at the moment but at least you could lay in bed for today, doing absolutely nothing.

Unlocking your phone, you saw a new message from Yuji: “omg look at this???” [Video link] It was a video of 42 seconds. There was a cute seal – probably the cutest and fluffiest seal you have ever seen – and background music. It may have only lasted 42 seconds but it definitely triggered some happy feelings inside you; it was so pure and you loved the energy of the clip. Perhaps these feelings were a bit too intense and overwhelming. Tears streamed down your face and you started sobbing uncontrollably. Why were you like this? It wasn’t even a sad video, was it?

You buried your face in the blankets, weeping as if someone just broke up with you. Through your loud crying, you did not notice the door opening. A jangling noise could be heard from your nightstand. Instantly, you shot up to check for intruders but luckily, it was Megumi. A frown spread on his face. “What happened?” he asked as his thumbs wiped your tears from your cheeks. You showed him the video, still sobbing, “Look at the seal... It’s so c-cute. I just... got emotional because it really t-traveled the world. This cutie deserves the whole world...”

“And so do you,” he bluntly stated, “now take the ibuprofen I brought you for the cramps and rest up.” As a matter of fact, he not only brought you painkillers but a hot water bottle and food as well.

Nanami Kento

“No, give me that. Lay down and rest. I can dust off the shelves on my own,” his deep voice commanded. If there was a man that screamed “male wife” it was definitely Nanami Kento, particularly when it came to you being on your period. You weren’t allowed to do anything in the house, except for very light chores. With good reason. “Kento, I can do–” Yeah, no, it wasn’t possible and Kento knew it too well.

You weren’t lucky when it came to period symptoms. Besides excruciating back pain, extremely sore breasts and headaches, you also had the luck to suffer from dizziness every single time you experienced the monthly nuisance. The first time you even passed out. In fact, it had happened several times. And that was precisely how Kento decided to not let you do anything. Still, you felt bad to leave everything to Kento. His work already demanded so much from him and here you were, being babied and even spoon-fed. You didn’t even have to cook your own meals or wash and iron laundry.

You had barely said those words when the unwelcome whirling sensation took you over again. Your feet wobbled, you were in danger of crashing to the ground. In a flash, Kento was by your side to steady you. “I told you not to overdo it.” He cupped your cheek with his warm hand. “Sorry, Kento. I’ll... just rest for a minute.”

Zenin Naoya

Period pain? Laughable. Naoya thought it was pathetic. A woman – these already weak creatures – having period symptoms was a mystery to him. What could possibly hurt about bleeding a little? He couldn’t understand. Your pitiable and sorry state was only another inconvenience to him. Not that you hindered him in any way – you were obedient enough to be quiet and complain as little as possible – but he absolutely despised seeing that annoying expression of pain on your face every time he had to look at it.

Hell, he didn’t even want to engage in sexual activities with you during that time, even though he had randomly picked up somewhere that it might help. Not that he wanted to help you, it was your problem and yours only, not his. “Stop looking at me with those eyes. It’s disgusting,” he remarked condescendingly as he got dressed for wherever he had to go. “When will you be back?” you croaked out but he totally ignored you.

“Women are so damn weak. It’s so fucking pathetic, I almost want to give you a hug,” Naoya gagged. He was about to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of your face that was contorted with pain. In long strides, he made it to one of the cabinets, fished out a tiny box and threw it on the bed. “Tsk, you better get well soon so you can serve me again, dumb bitch.”

Fushiguro Toji (soft)

Work hadn’t been treating him kindly: not yesterday, not today, not ever. Although he was highly capable and never failed to exceed himself, all Toji truly wanted to do was to go home. When he finally made it through the door, he called out, “Am home.” Usually, you would come running to greet him but when nothing but silence greeted him, his hand instantly moved to the cursed creature lingering on his shoulder. It was suspicious. Did enemies manage to find this hideout? Where were you? His hands started sweating.

Stealthily, he approached the kitchen. To his surprise, he saw your form in front of the counter, hunched over in pain. Dropping his offensive stance immediately, he quickly strode over to check on you. “Hey, what are you doing there?” he asked, hesitatingly putting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at him, grimacing with pain, “Oh, Toji. I didn’t realize you were home yet. Sorry, I’m not done cooking dinner yet, I just feel so nauseous, exhausted and my entire back and shoulders hurt so much. It’s so sore.” “I see.” He nodded, understanding what was happening. Suddenly, he lifted you effortlessly. You squealed, “Toji!! What are you doing?!” “Taking care of you,” he promised. “But dinner!” “Don’t care.”

Making his way to the bedroom, Toji laid down with you on top of him. Something about his warmth already made you feel better but as his large palms rubbed your back in circular motions, you felt as if you were in heaven. Toji’s ministrations soothed the pain so well, you almost let out a moan. Now that the pain didn’t overshadow all the other symptoms anymore, the drowsiness took over. “Toji, ‘m tired,” you mumbled; eyelids fluttering already. “Then sleep. I’ll take care of dinner later,” he whispered. You only hummed in response, already far too gone. Slowly but surely, his steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep. “Sleep tight.”

Taglist: @megumifushi @gojos-mochi @assbuttbaek @bleueluna

#gojo x reader #megumi x reader #nanami x reader #naoya x reader #toji x reader #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #nanami kento #zenin naoya #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen naoya #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #tw: period talk #tw: periods #tw: menstruation

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dissociationawareness · 2 years

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Ya know... over time... ummm... Idk how to put this cus it's gonna hurt someone's feelings.

I used to identify as endo. In my teens when I started to realize I was multiple and I started trying to communicate with them... when it still wasn't apparent to therapists and I was labeled bipolar with schizo-affective or outright schizophrenic. Back in those days, I genuinely believed I was psychotic. Things were weird. I had a lot of hallucinations, I had a lot of switching.

I was still a kid. I didn't want to believe I had childhood trauma even though I knew the kids had memories that I didn't, even though for a time I believed they weren't in there... I believed they died... I believed a lot of things, a lot of things that weren't true. I held on, tooth and nail, to the idea that we were multiple because we were just meant to be that way. The voices in my head during this really spectacular thing I went through told me so, after all.

Shit came out in my teens, and my mother eluded to the place where it happened. I still denied it. We're multiple because we always were.

In my adulthood, through a fair amount of research, I learned a lot about DID and multiplicity. I'd already been to inpatient three times, on countless meds, diagnosed with just about everything except DID. I had spoken to some therapists about it, only one ever made me feel like she believed me (my therapist in highschool).

In my mid 20s, sometime after being formally diagnosed with DID (and learning how... not great that actually is in terms of accessing mental health services), I spoke with my aunt about what my mother had told me in my teens, and she revealed the thing I didn't want to accept: I am a survivor of CSA at a very early age, my parents knew and did nothing because they didn't know what to do about it. I had a bit of a mental breakdown after that, and I think that's really when I accepted that we were what others would call "trauma-caused" or "traumagenic"... and furthermore that even my hallucinations, which I'd had since childhood, were largely a part of PTSD which had been triggered by an assault at 13, bringing a lot of my dissociative symptoms to the surface and starting the journey to communicating and vague attempts at healing that were mostly aimed at trauma that occurred in my teens.

I fell upon Paul F. Dell's work on Structural Dissociation and something clicked. I had identified that I was always multiple because I didn't ever remember not having them... I just didn't always understand what they were, so for much of my childhood (and teens), I explained them through what language I had --- as ghosts or something supernatural. I was haunted, afterall, by my own skeleton.

It made sense, and still does, that yes, I always was multiple, and that's why the endo label appealed to me and why I secretly held onto it beyond accepting my early trauma. The reality is that the trauma didn't make us, the trauma didn't allow us to develop normally. The further reality is that the early abuse was only a piece of that - that other instances of sexual, physical, and emotional abuse at the hands of both adults and my peers played a role. Being neurodivergent and trans played a role. Being queer but devoutly Christian played a role. The fire that burned my childhood home to charcoal played a role. My parents fighting and separating played a role.

And here's my point. Trauma is a wide and deep category. Maybe had things been different, if I'd had a home life where my parents were more supportive, had I been taught to cope, had I been able to talk about what I was going through and actually process it, maybe I wouldn't be multiple. Trauma is a lot of different things but it's the surface of what's really going on in a child who becomes a teen and eventually an adult with DID.

I never coped with any of the things I went through as a kid. I never processed them in any substantial way. I never healed. My brain was too full of PTSD for it to be able to do the things everyone else's brains did: unify the sense of self.

In this respect, we're all multiple as children. Being a parent, I see this everyday in my 4yo, who has two others: D & Monster. This is developmentally NORMAL for his age. It IS NOT at my age, 34yo. He is what is literally an endogenic multiple. I am not anymore. And I am not because I passed the threshold (7-10) without reaching that milestone because of PTSD, which universe willing, he will unify when he's old enough.

So here's what I'm getting to.

You can identify as Endo, and I'm cool with that. I can accept that you feel this way because I felt this way once too. I will happily accept you into spaces I inhabit that are intended for multiples. If you're multiple, you belong here.

I do have a problem with blogs promoting this like it's this... ugh... how do I say this without upsetting you? I think it encourages people to avoid processing and healing. I think it encourages people to avoid their feelings and ignore that shit in their childhood effected them. I think it encourages denial and a misunderstanding of what DID and OSDD are. I think it's harmful to everyone.

To have DID, to really be multiple past the threshold... you have childhood trauma - major and repeated stressors that you were unable to process and cope with. It's the only way this developmental milestone doesn't happen.

That doesn't mean you were physically or sexually abused. It really doesn't. Neglect is trauma. Bullying is trauma. Moving a lot is trauma. Being an outcast is trauma. Struggling with symptoms of neurodivergence or mental illness as a kid with no idea why it's happening or why people react to it how they do, or having sensory issues that no one accepts or helps you navigate (etc) is trauma. Being in a car accident is trauma. Death of a family member is trauma. Being constantly ignored is trauma. Not having enough food is trauma. Parents separating is trauma. Major illness is trauma.

There are so many fucking things that are trauma. It does not matter that you don't think it was ever "bad enough" to cause DID. Clearly it was. All it has to be is a thing child you felt couldn't be addressed, that child you couldn't cope with... so you buried it and it took up so much of your brain, that you were unable to unify (or at least completely).

You have trauma. Maybe it's not the shit movies were made of. Maybe it's not the kind of trauma that other people will readily express sadness or anger about, but it's still real and it still effected you.

No matter how you want to address your multiplicity, or how you desire to identify... you owe it to the kid you once were to tell them it's ok to feel however they did about whatever it was, and it's ok to talk about it and express those feelings.

I want you all to understand that this is a piece of healing you all need to look into - not because you need to magically unify as an adult (frankly, I think that's entirely misunderstood too), but because clearly SOMETHING effected you to make you who you are today, in all your multitudes, and you owe it to your future self to accept that you, like every person on this planet, has experienced trauma. You owe it to yourself to learn to accept that even if other people don't understand, your emotions exist for a reason and it's good and right to accept them and find outlets, which child you was unable to do.

And this goes ditto for anti-endos... or whatever the term for that is. And furthermore that those who identify as trauma-caused (etc) need to at least attempt to accept that plenty of folks who identify as endo... have DID/OSDD just like you. You can feel however you want about their identity, but the gatekeeping is toxic and it's harming the community, including survivors.

Hopefully the nuance isn't lost on... anyone.

If you need clarification on something, feel free to ask.

#dissociation #actuallydissociative #hey yeah I know we haven't posted here in a long time #but I am posting this here in hopes that you'll put some stock in this #I would like to note that when we made this blog was a different time in our lives and I still largely stand by #what we posted forever the fuck ago about structural dissociation #I would also like to say that as we've gotten older... a lot of the things we feel different about... though mostly juxtaposed #we've been thinking about coming back... and we mostly stopped because frankly moding a blog #that ends up getting a bunch of interaction is... it's a lot when we're constantly still trying to stitch our brain together #a lot has changed guise #DID #actuallyDID #OSDD-1 #being a parent is wild and seeing structural dissociation in action in a phase of life where it's developmentally normal is so interesting #hubby calls them 'imaginary friends' and I just kinda snicker #sometimes I worry but that's because I too am still unpacking the idea that we're always supposed to be one #but we're not... we're just not always supposed to be many because others are supposed to become facets of our personality #and I'll be very interested to see how unification happens when he gets to that age #in the meantime I just gotta put a lot of effort into supporting him and I guess hope that nothing major comes along that gums up the works #i guess??? being a parent is complicated 😅

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ginger-snaps014 · 2 years

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Trigger warning: long post and SCOUS abortion opinion thoughts

Time to scream into the void… aka tumblr. Or way too public way to deal with the internal spiraling after the leak of the Supreme Court draft option overturning roe v wade.

1. I know it is not final… that does not make me more comfortable. It was still drafted. It is an official court document. I never thought I would see women’s rights destroyed in my country. I just saw a document that would make it possible.

2. If the right to bodily autonomy is eroded for women… what happens to others in vulnerable positions. Will being trans become illegal. Cosmetic plastic surgery. Birth control. If you no longer have the right to control your own body, who does?

3. This will also limit the right to privacy. How will this affect Texas v. Lawrence (makes it unconstitutional to make gay sex illegal) or Virginia v loving (makes it unconditional to make interracial marriage illegal). Griswold v. Connecticut (makes it unconstitutional to make birth control illegal). Yes birth control was illegal in some states. The government should not be in my uterus or my bedroom

4. I am a woman who is single and grey ace. The effect won’t hit me has hard as my friends who are sexually active. It still affects my rights. I care. I am straight. I could still be affected. I could be raped.

5. I have the resources to travel and get the procedure elsewhere if needed. Like the woman in the lives of the people making these laws. Not every American has that option. That makes me nauseous. The future of all citizens, not just the wealthy, should matter.

6. It’s my body

7. The Bible literally permits abortion (at least in the case of adultery) Numbers 5:27-28

8. The Bible literally holds the value of a living woman over that of an unborn fetus (Exodus 21:22-25) and they would only know back then once a woman had pregnancy symptoms

9. Most pro-life people point to psalms or Jeremiah which just have to do with god’s omnipotence. He knew me in the womb. Aka he knew me before I existed. Poetry is pretty. Not a reason to turn me into a broodmare (horse kept around to reproduce. An animal with no bodily autonomy. Not a voluntary mom. Those are moms)

10. Other pro-life people just look at passages about spilling innocent blood. News flash you can’t kill that which is not yet alive. No blood spilled.

11. Jewish people say breath of life motif mean life starts at birth aka when the baby breaths.

12. Items 7-11 are irrelevant because of freedom of religion. You cannot make me practice your religious beliefs. Fuck you

13. Child support doesn’t start until birth. Yet giving birth requires a huge financial penalty (Dr. Visits, vitamin, ultrasounds, missed work for Dr, 100ks for actual birth in a hospital, recovery and more missed work). Women bear that responsibility alone. It took two to tango. Where is the man’s responsibility

14. Not to mention the toll of pregnancy and birth on an actually living persons body.

15. Citizenship also doesn’t happen until you are born.

16. Miscarriages are common. Some conservative leaders are drafting laws that would result in a criminal penalty… for nature.

17. If you drive drunk and get into an accident that results in a second person needing a kidney transplant or dying, You would not be required by law to give up your own kidney if you were a match. A drunk accident does not give someone else rights to your body. Even if that person is actually alive. Even if you were at fault.

18. A fetus is not viable until the 3rd trimester. Women are not life support machines. We are people. If the fetus is not human enough or formed enough to exist, why force it.

19. I would not want to be kept on life support if I lacked higher brain function. Regardless of whether I had a heartbeat or fingernails (F you Juno). In my view a vegetable is not alive. My essence. My soul. What makes me Me is gone. If I would not consider myself alive without that brain function, I do not consider the fetus alive either. While electrical impulses start early, higher brain function occurs at the end of the 2nd trimester or beginning of the 3rd. I think therefore I am - descarte bitches!

20. Per physics, potential motion and actual motion are different. Per the English language potential is not the same as actual. As such, potential life and actual life are different. Let’s protect the actual life.

21. “But you could be killing the next president.” Bitch, it’s not alive so there is no killing. And it might be the next H.H. Holmes. Keep your completely unfounded manipulation away from me. And I will keep the next potential serial killer away from you.

22. This could result in so many women stuck in abusive households.

23. The economy better improve. Because almost all millennials are in 2 income households. If you expect women to be 1950 housewives, our men better be able to take care of the entire household on a single salary. Oh wait. They can’t.

24. If you were a fertility clinic that was on fire and you could either save (a) an unconscious, living person with a broken leg, or (b) a small two handled refrigerator with 1000000000000000000000000 fertilized eggs (or more), which do you save? I’m saving the person. Fertilized eggs are not the same as people. End of story.

25. Babies born into dangerous situations is a bad thing. Such situations could include poverty, abusive household, unloving mother, etc. Why don’t we fix the current education, healthcare, foster care, etc. systems first. Rather that put people and babies at risk

26. Children are expensive. Especially, if you want to give them everything they need to succeed (more easily) - like education. Some people want to wait until they are ready. Some know they can’t provide what they would like to.

27. To all my “social liberal, financially conservative” peeps…. Guess you should have voted for your rights and not your pocketbook.

28. People who says it’s the woman’s fault because she shouldn’t be having sex. (A) again takes two to tango. (B) sounds like you are interested in regulating and controlling women than anything else

29. Women are usually only fertile around 2 days a month and then only from our teens until middle age. Men a fertile from puberty until death, every day of the year and can get multiple people pregnant in a day. If you wanted to stop abortion you would go for them. Especially, vasectomies are reversible. Instead you punish woman.

30. To dates in the Bible Belt passed heartbeat bills - Strange how you don’t care about ensuring decent sex ed in schools to prevent unwanted pregnancies in the first place

31. I’m pro choice. Because the only other option is anti-choice. Is force. Is wrong.

#abortion #supreme court #scous #someone help #the handmaid's tale #it’s starting #long post

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ragsweas · 3 years

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Hobbit Fic Rec List!

MODERN AU!

Hello! I always wanted to share a gigantic list of awesome works in Hobbit fanfic, but realized they are too many. So let's start small. A few modern AU that everybody has to read!

.......*.......

How to fall in love in 100 days by Kytanna

As their lives intertwine, Thorin, Bilbo, and their nephews learn the meaning of finding a family, love and the hard path towards healing. All, over the course of a hundred days.

A lovely piece with all the cuteness and fluff.

Softer Strokes by autisticalistair

Thorin is a well-known artist living a secluded life in the Swiss Alps. Bilbo is a former history professor living in a trauma rehabilitation centre after a devastating accident that took his parents lives. Through a mutual friend, Bilbo finds himself in Switzerland, and Thorin finds himself with company for the next few months, and neither of them are prepared for what that will bring.

I'll never say 'I love you' by JustReadingMaybeWriting

Bilbo is a veterinary student who one night saves the life a handsome but wounded man. Bilbo should have called an ambulance. If he had called an ambulance, he wouldn't be in this weird mess. He certainly wouldn't be falling in love with the man he saved, who can't seem to leave him alone.

This one's a bit dark, but I love it.

painted blind by nasri

The last time Bilbo stepped foot in Aberdeen it was with a broken heart and a bachelor’s degree. All things considered, this time isn’t so different.

Plan B by Drenagon

Plan B: an alternative strategy; a contingency plan, devised for an outcome other than the expected plan.

Or, sending an unqualified temp to act as Thorin Oakenshield's PA because no one qualified can put up with him.

(He'd say they can't meet his standards. Of course he would.)

Meet Bilbo Baggins. He just became Plan B.

One Modern!AU I always wanted to read and this is just it! It's amazing!! And the whole COmpany is there!!

A Land Far Away by Prollyaghost (Callmerin)

"If we were in a different time or place, this story may have begun with ‘once upon a time’, or even ‘In a hole in the ground, there lived…’ But as it so happens, we are in this time and place, in the outskirts of London, where there are no ‘once upon a times’ and the only holes in grounds lead to sewage tunnels. There does happen to be, however, a man who has dedicated a great deal of his life studying these ‘once upon a time’s. He is an English teacher, enjoys afternoon teas with homemade raisin scones, and he most certainly does not believe in fairy-tales.

His name is Bilbo Baggins, and that last bit about him is about to change."

Bilbo Baggins, an English teacher who has never been outside of England, suddenly finds himself thrust into an adventure when a strange man named Thorin Oakenshield requires his help to fulfil his father’s dying wish. Turns out studying the niche topic of the ancient, fictional society of dwarves was more useful than his parents could have imagined. Plunged into a forgotten land, Thorin and Bilbo must find the mythical Arkenstone, before the legends of the past come back to haunt modern society.

Okay, this one's a WIP, but damn the premise is super interesting and honestly can't wait for the next update!

Nothing Gold Can Stay by perkynurples

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

This is one of the fics that does not need an introduction. No matter how many times you read this, it isn't enough. And we all love Fili and Kili here.

What to do When Your Cat is an Asshole by lily_winterwood

“You have a cat?” asks the face on the screen. “Yes. His name’s Smaug, he’s orange, and he’s an asshole. Aren’t you, Smaug?” Surly Food Provider glowers at me, which, of course, I am immune to. “Aren’t you a little asshole?” I don’t see why he needs to call me that. My butthole is perfectly licked, and it smells wonderful.

The AU where Smaug is Thorin's asshole cat. Written for the Bagginshield Unexpected Anniversary.

This one's small, and hilarious and even better if you imagine Benedryl Cucumbersnatch narrating the whole thing

No Ordinary Love by badskippy

Bilbo and Ori have been best friends since they were ten years old and tragedy brought them together. Now, a new job, a sudden rainstorm, a chance meeting and budding romance with a burly, handsome stranger will not only alter their lives, but set in motion events that will change everyone around them, and reveal how lies, deceit and assumptions can leave deeper scars than the ones that can be seen.

WIP, unfinished, but damn was this an interesting tale. For anybody who loves angst, go give it a read!

Remember Me by thehistorygeek

Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield are destined to suffer. In every life they live, in every age, in every era, they meet, and this meeting brings back all the memories of the lives that have come before. But every meeting serves also as a death sentence, for once they have met, one of them is doomed to die soon after, usually tragically and prematurely. They remember nothing of their past lives until they meet, and once they have there is nothing that can be done to stop their fate.

For anyone obsessed with Reincarnation and/or History, this is it.

A Remover of Obstacles by MistakenMagic

"Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Another fic that DOES NOT need an introduction. I have read it thrice and every time the emotions are still the same. Trigger Warnings, but damn this is all worth it.

An Unexpected Meeting by what_am_i_even_doing_tho

This is the chronicling of the modern day shenanigans of Bilbo Baggins, who is an absolute gay disaster, and Thorin Oakenshield, who is unashamedly enamored. Aka, the modern Bagginshield AU that no one ever asked for but they're getting anyway.

green and gilded by nasri

The next time he visits his parents there are flowers left in the grass, pressed back against the gravestone. They are yellow and white daffodils, plain and wilting.

“Who’s been to see you?” He asks, taking a single photo of the flowers with their drooping stems and curled petals and the wet winter grass that surrounds them. His mother would call it kind, his father might say it's curious, and Bilbo takes another petal to tuck into his pocket.

You know those stories that you read once and then they never leave your head? And somehow your whole life begins to revolve around that one story? Yeah, this is it. Spoilers in tag and I would suggest you read before advancing cause many people do not like it, but even if you are not in that group, just give it a read. This story deserves all the reads.

Bran' New Suit by pibroch (littleblackdog)

Andrew's description had been sufficient to recognize him— a riot of honey brown curls, short in stature, a well-favoured face with expressive features— but it hadn't quite been enough to prepare Tom for the sharp, almost painful tug in his gut at the sight of the man. They had never met before, to the best of Tom's recollection, but there was something eerily and inexplicably familiar about him all the same.

One of the first Modern AU I read and dauym...you won't get it until the end but then...it's fun.

Under New Management by frostyjack

Fili's life is pretty good -- he's doing well at university, he gets on well with his uncle and guardian Thorin, and he's never likely to know what it's like to be poor or unwanted. Then Thorin takes in a foster child -- Kili Oakenshield, a long-lost relative whose past is a total mystery. Suddenly, Fili's life gets a whole lot more complicated. But maybe it gets better, too.

Lots of trigger warning for this one, but when the end comes, you'll know it's all been worth it.

One-Sided Conversations by northerntrash

"Thank you for listening," Thorin said, getting to his feet. "I hope to be able to return the favour, one day."

The man on the bed didn't respond, but since he'd been in a coma for longer than Thorin had known him, that wasn't entirely surprising.

(Not Quite) Prince Charming by manic_intent

The problem, Bilbo would later tell Gandalf in aggrieved irritation, was not so much the unannounced visitors, oh no, but the fact that due to the lateness of the hour and sheer merciless fate, it came to be that at the respectable age of forty, Bilbo was being introduced to a real, live king while wearing striped pyjamas and fluffy slippers.

The Making of a Story by northerntrash

When Bilbo finds a case of old family photographs, he becomes determined to find the original owners: what he does not expect is to become quite so involved in their lives, or that those photographs should prove quite so important.

Misunderstandings and other obstacles for love by ylc

This series dammit! It's amazing, and the dynamics you would ask from a Modern AU.

Candle Glow and Mistletoe by euseevius

Bilbo and Thorin have been married for six months now. The thing is, Thorin’s family doesn’t know this. And because pretending to be just friends for the three weeks you’re going to spend at the family cabin is so much easier than telling the truth, that is what they will do.

(Of course Bilbo has his own ideas of how believable it is for a grown man to bring a friend to spend Christmas with his family. That’s why they make a bet out of it.)

For days you need to just laugh at these two idiots.

The Lost Kingdom of Erebor by Twisted_Barbie

AU. The Lost Kingdom of Erebor is shrouded in myth, likened to the heavens and compared to Atlantis. Until an archaeological discovery unearths that which was lost and awakens the Mad King from his cursed eternal rest.

Not a happy ending, and mysterious and you need to give it a read. Just, do it. It will all be worth it.

Of Palaces and Ruins by livelongandgetiton

Slow burn. Bilbo Baggins is a half-baked archaeologist who has put his dreams of adventure on hold to teach secondary school. Thorin is the grandson of a politically powerful figure in the historically rich and deeply isolationist country of Erebor. When he flees conflict and corruption in Erebor to settle in London, he finds his hands full with two young boys. Gandalf meddles, and Bilbo signs on as a personal tutor for the boys in hopes of getting a foot in the door to archaeological work in Erebor. He soon discovers that Thorin is a tough nut to crack. As Bilbo takes care of the boys he and Thorin grow closer, and secrets about not just the brooding stranger, but the mysterious country and politics of Erebor begin to unravel. It turns out that Bilbo isn't leaving adventure behind, after all.

WIP, updating. JUST READ IT!!!

Write Me Down Easy by lucyraebrown

Bilbo Baggins, a simple man with a wish for something more than his life teaching high school English, is obsessed with a famous author by the pen-name Oakenshield. Although he knows the future is dim for his chances of finding out about the man behind his favorite book, it's reassuring to know someone has the same thoughts about the world.

WIP, updating. It's mostly fuff and happiness, so yesss...feed your inner Bagginshield!

Show Me My Silver Lining by BiSquared

Three years after the hostile takeover of his grandfather's record label by one DJ Smaug, lead singer Thorin Oakenshield is ready to give up on his dreams, even if his band isn't ready to give up on him. If Thorin can convince talent scout Bilbo Baggins to sign them, they might just have a fighting chance. Of course, this is the night when Thorin gets stage fright.

The music industry AU no one asked for.

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples

Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

Did I read this in one go? Yes I did. Did I fall in love with Bagginshiled all over again? Yes I did.

.......*.......

And that's the list folks! I hope you guys have fun reading all of these nice fics! (And all the bagginshield angst/fuff)

#the hobbit #hobbit #fanfiction #fanfic #thilbo #thorins company #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #modern #fanfic recommendation #hope you all have fun!

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anonymous-tals · 3 years

Text

Oops, I projected my mental health issues onto a fictional character that is similar to me. Time to write fanfiction, I guess!

TW: Eating Disorders. If you are struggling or are in recovery from an eating disorder, here’s a big ol’ trigger warning. There are no numbers or specifics about anything but it does center around Brad Bakshi of the show Mythic Quest struggling with his eating disorder.

This is not in an attempt to glamorize eating disorders(not that I wrote anything that would but just in case someone misinterprets this). Eating disorders are not cute or quirky. They are serious illnesses that lead to death. If you are struggling with an eating disorder, you deserve recovery. Please reach out for help to a trusted adult.

National Eating Disorder Association 1-800-931-2237

One last trigger warning for eating disorders before we begin! I hope the writing isn’t trash. If you have any critiques, feel free to comment them. I hope you enjoy the story(if this is cringey, future me, you have permission to murder me right now):

Brad’s eyes opened, squinting as he tried to adjust to the harsh lights. He looked around the room, confused as to where he was. After a couple of seconds, he identified the room as a hospital room. There was a lady sitting on a chair by the door reading a book. Adjusting himself, Brad slowly sat up, his head aching as he did. The lady perked up as she noticed Brad had awakened.

“Oh! You’re awake!”, she said, calmly, putting down her book.

“Where-Where am I?”, said Brad.

“You’re in the hospital, sir.” Brad looked around the room. The walls were a cool green. Typical nature photos shuffled through on a tv that was mounted on the wall in front of his bed as it waited to be used. There was a thin door that he guessed was either a bathroom or a closet. Brown cupboards lined the walls. He moved his arm only to notice there was a tube attached to it.

“What the hell happened?”, he thought. The previous day, or what he presumed to be the previous day, had been foggy. Well, pretty much everyday lately had been a blur.

“I’m going to go tell a nurse you’re awake so we can do weights and vitals.” A pang of fear struck him at the sound of the word weight. Someone else was going to see what he weighed. His thoughts were racing.

“Just take a deep breath.”, he thought. He tried to calm himself down by looking around the room. He noticed there was a card on the counter beneath the cabinets. Curiosity got the best of him and he stood up. Stars popped into his vision and he steadied himself before making his way to the counter. The tube was just barely long enough for him to reach it. The cover read, ‘Get well soon!’. Brad walked back to the hospital bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “I wonder who it’s from?”, he thought, opening the card. “I can’t believe you are in the hospital! You appeared so healthy. Get well, soon, motu.”

“Brad Bakshi?”, a nurse called from the doorway. He looked up, tossing the card into a trash can by the bed. The lady who had been sitting in the room with him walked in and sat down again, opening her book. “Hello, I’m Amanda Armstrong and I’ll be your nurse today. Do you know why you’re here?”, she said.

“No.”, Brad replied, shortly.

“Well, you were brought here by…”, she looked down at a clipboard she was holding. “...Ian Grimm? Does that name sound familiar?”

“Yes, he’s my boss.” Brad kept his voice calm but his heart was starting to quicken. Memories from the day previous began to surface.

“Well, he said you had fainted while walking up a flight of stairs.” Brad’s calm demeanor cracked as the memories flooded back.

“Oh...yah. I remember that.”

“Yes, well, you got a concussion. Thankfully, it isn’t too bad.”

“When will I be getting out?”, Brad said, shaking away his feelings of anxiety.

“Well, let’s take your vitals first and then we can discuss that. Come with me.” Brad followed Amanda out into the hall. They didn’t walk for long but the environment made him feel uneasy. There was something surreal about it. Or maybe it was the fact that he felt a little light headed that made everything feel a bit off. “We’ll be in here.”, said Amanda, opening the door. Brad entered the room, surveying his surroundings. It looked like a typical room for check-ups. Amanda made her way to the computer sitting on the desk and started logging in and opening a file. “Ok, let’s do your vitals. I’m going to ask you to lay down and stay still, please!” She walked over to the wall where a weird machine stood. “I’m just going to put this on your arm, if you’d roll up your sleeve for me.” Brad rolled up his sleeve and she velcroed what appeared to be something relating to blood pressure. “Ok, I’m going to need you to answer honestly. Have you had any feelings of depression or sadness?”

“Excuse me?”, said Brad, startled, sitting up.

“Please lay down, Mr.Bakshi. Begrudgingly, Brad lay down.

“Why on earth are you asking me this?”, said Brad, frustrated.

“Well…”, she hesitated. “Ok, I’m going to be direct with you here. Your boss reported that you hadn’t been eating much and you have been appearing to be quite fatigued and dizzy. Right now, we’re doing your vitals to see what we’ll need to do.”

“Are you implying that I have an eating disorder? I’ll tell you right now that I don’t.”

“Well, the lanugo is telling a different story. Now, please, let’s go through the questions.” The nurse asked the questions while doing the vitals despite Brad giving short, passive aggressive answers.

“Ok, time for weight and height.” Brad's heart quickened.

“Do we have to?”

“I’m going to have you turn around. You won’t even see it!” He stepped onto the scale as he tried to hide his growing panic.

“You fat idiot. If you restricted more, maybe you wouldn’t be so anxious right now. You wouldn’t even be here, I bet! You fat, stupid, fatty-”

“Ok, you can step off!” The nurse's voice interrupted his thoughts and he stepped off the scale. Ok, let’s do your height.

She measured his height and then went over the computer and input the information.

“Ok. So, here’s what we’ve got going on here, Mr.Bakshi. Your vitals are showing symptoms of anorexia and so is your BMI.”

“BMI is garbage.”, Brad said dismissively.

“Well, that doesn’t disregard any of the other information. I can’t force you to do anything since you’re an adult but I would highly suggest going into inpatient care.”

“For the last time, I don’t have an eating disorder! Sorry, I care about my health! I thought losing weight was a good thing!” The nurse sighed before closing out of the tabs on the computer.

“Well, you can think it over during the next couple days. You’ll need to stay here to make sure your head is okay.” Rolling his eyes, Brad scoffed.

“Fine, whatever. My decision won’t change, though!”

They headed back to the room and Brad sat down on his bed. He stared at the tv. It had just faded to a picture of a monarch butterfly on a purple flower. His gaze travelled across the room until it fell onto the card he had thrown in the trash can.

“I bet I wouldn’t even get diagnosed with anything. I’m too fat. I need to be thinner. I’m not even that bad. I need to be that bad, though.” Just then, a sharp knock on the door halted his thoughts in their tracks. Brad looked up to see David standing at the doorway with a balloon and a gift bag.

“Great, just what I needed.”, said Brad, sarcastically.

“Nice to see you too, Brad.” Brad rolled his eyes in response. “The office was really worried about you! You sure took a tumble. Anyways, here’s a balloon! And a gift! Courtesy of your friends at the office!”

“Interesting. I didn’t consider you guys as friends.”, Brad replied coldly.

“What do you want me to say, then? Huh? Courtesy of everyone you annoy and pester?” Brad looked away, not responding. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his emotions hidden underneath.

“Listen, David. I don’t care about you guys and you guys don’t care about me and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I’m sorry we’re decent enough human beings to care about other people.”

“Pshh, you don’t care about me. You just want to feel good about yourselves so you can feel like you’re a decent human being. So you can stop pretending you care about me because you don’t, ok? No one does.” His emotions were slipping through. He could feel his eyes welling up but he wouldn’t allow the tears to fall.

“Come on, Brad. Of course people care about you! Your brother for example! He’s a great guy! He threw you that awesome birthday party, remember?” Brad sat still, not responding. “Earth to Brad, anyone in there?”, David said, giving a small laugh.

“Shut up!” Brad shouted loudly, causing David to wince. “My brother is a horrible person. He has gone out of his way to ruin my life. In fact, he is ruining my life right now.” His voice cracked as a tear broke through.

“Brad, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Just leave, ok? Please just leave.” Brad’s heart began to beat faster. “You idiot.”, he thought. “You let him see that you’re weak. You are weak. You’re just a fat, weak, pussy.” His breathing was getting quicker and quicker. The room started to spin. It felt like everything was happening all at once. Just then, he felt a hand on each of his shoulders.

“Take a deep breath, ok?”, said David. Brad hesitated before taking a deep breath in and letting it out. “In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. In, 2-” Slowly Brad began to calm down. He opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them. “Better?”, asked David, taking a step back. Brad looked towards the window, avoiding eye contact, wiping the tears from his face. He tried to think of something witty to say but he was too tired. They were both quiet for a bit before David broke the silence. “Well, I have to go but I-”

“Stay. Please.” Brad didn’t break eye contact with the window.

“I...I guess I could stay.” David pulled up the chair that the lady had been in earlier. They sat there in silence for a while before David grabbed the remote for the TV. “Are you good with me putting something on?” Brad stayed quiet. “I’ll take that as a yes!” He scrolled through the small selection of movies before choosing something and relaxing into his chair.

…

They sat there for a while. Movies played while David talked about what had happened at the office that day. Poppy and Ian created an obstacle course to see who was better. Not better at one specific thing. Just better in general. Brad didn’t respond but every once in a while, a small smile would crack through.

“Well, it’s getting late so I think I should actually get going.”, David said, standing up and started walking out the door. Just before he left, Brad spoke.

“Thank you...for staying and all.” He, once again, wasn’t making eye contact.

“Of course, man. It’s no big deal!” There was a pause before Brad spoke again.

“They want me to do an inpatient program.”

“Oh? For…” David trailed off.

“Yah…” Brad started fidgeting with the corner of the blanket on the bed. “I don’t know what to do. Whether I should go or not.”

“Well, I’d say you should do what you think would benefit you best.”, said David, taking a couple steps towards him. Brad was silent.

“...Thanks, David.”

David gave a small wave as he walked out the door. Brad sat there awake for a while, unable to sleep. He sat there, listening to the sounds of the hospital through the door. A woman, presumably a nurse, poked her head in the room. “Would you like to order dinner?” Brad shook his head and the nurse left. He then spotted the gift bag that David had brought. He picked it up and removed the tissue paper stuffed in at the top. Inside there was a pig plush and a card. The plushy was adorable and very soft. He pet the pig plush, enjoying the soothing texture, before placing it in his lap and moving onto the card. It was your typical get better soon card. On the inside, there were either signatures or little get well messages from everyone. It seemed like the pig plush was Jo’s idea. Brad leaned over and placed the card on the side table next to his bed. He looked at it for a minute before grabbing the pig, getting under the covers and falling asleep.

#brad bakshi #brad bakshi fanfic #is this cringey? i can't tell.#mythic quest fanfic #mythic quest

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cryinginthebackseat · 3 years

Text

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part i

AO3 part ii

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 4.009

Summary: Russell Adler should have known better that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees.

Warnings: just swearings, sexual tension, blood, mentions of past abuse and brainwashing. adler being that manipulative asswipe like usual.

Author’s note: i don't know what i'm doing. one moment, i was watching the walkthrough of the new call of duty game, found myself curious, acutely curious by that guy with the scars and shades on- a younger, shadier (no pun intended) Robert Redford in Spy Game and oh my... fast forward to 2 weeks later, here we are.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A house somewhere on foreign soil,

Where ageless lovers call,

Is this your goal, your final needs,

Where dogs and vultures eat,

Committed still I turn to go.

I put my trust in you.

A Means To An End - Joy Division (1980)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's mystifying how little she talks. Or when she does, it's always in fragments. Like a crossword puzzle in your local newspaper, but several letters are missing. He initially thought maybe MK-Ultra fucked her head or worse, if it hasn't worked at all, but the more he watches her, the more he realizes it's just the way she is. And it's ironic because he named her Bell. He expected her to chime like a goddamn goldfinch yet here they are.

But he won't be fazed. Russell Adler is a man who's stopped at nothing in getting what he wanted before, he sure as hell won't stop now for a close-mouthed science project.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We've got a job to do, Bell."

It intrigues him, every time, the way the words trigger something deep within her psyche, the way her eyes change, her body stands a little straighter, like a machine ready to function at his disposal. It reminds Adler of one of those cartoons he watched when he was a kid about wizards and magic words, except there are no musical dance numbers playing in the background or a talking cricket perching on his shoulder. This is his power over her, over the USSR, over Perseus. That monstrous filth. It really does take a beast to tame another.

Although he surmises calling Bell one would be superfluous.

She barely looks like one, but Adler knows too well than to underestimate her. Just because Bell hasn’t shown her set of claws, that doesn’t mean she’s harmless, delicate, like a miniature China Doll in his breast pocket.

Bell never offered him her reply before, but now, now, she nods, head almost bows, obedient pretty thing, and says:

“Yes, Adler.”

So it goes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It takes West Berlin for Adler to realize she’s left-handed.

She wears her watch on her right hand, smokes with that same said hand only when she’s writing or moving her pieces for an impromptu late-night game of chess against Lazar. And she always wears her gloves all the time- leather, black, lined with silk and pretty, small buttons on the cuffs, covering those striking red nails underneath. Whether it is for the theatrics or an old habit of hers, he can't really tell.

He doesn’t know why he begins to take notice of these mundane details about Bell, but rationalizes because he’s never been in the same room with this version of her, post-brainwash Bell, for more than 10 minutes. And for all intents and purposes, there’s still a lot of question marks surrounding her character; who is she? Where did she come from? What is her connection to Perseus?

Are they in a possession of a walking, breathing bomb about to destroy them all or the West’s only salvation?

He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler hears Bell from his table, typing busy on the computer- barely blinking- all soaked up in that caffeine-infused energy at 1 am. She's always like that, he learns, when it comes to working, always with that steel determination, pulling out all the stops as long as it gets the job done- that Soviet discipline at it's finest.

Reminds him a little of himself when he's young.

Adler walks up to her.

“You done for the night?” A shake of her head is her only response. He sighs. “You should go home, Bell.”

“You go. I’ll lock up behind you,” Bell replies, low and monotone; that youthful stubborn.

If she was any other person, he would probably commend her for such fierce willpower, but she is Bell, the walking conundrum, his ace in the hole. Call him paranoid, but the idea of her having the safehouse for herself does nothing but raises every alarm in his head.

“No, we’re going home,” he says instead, tone brooking no argument and she frowns at the screen, her fingers stop moving then looks up at him with those goddamn empty eyes. "Come on, it's late anyway."

She doesn't say anything. Adler wishes he could read her mind- or crack that lovely skull on the back of her head, dissect her brain, learn its secrets and answers.

Adler has his gun with him. It wouldn’t take long. A quick, true shot to the heart to keep the brain intact. He’d have Hudson contact one of his people inside BND and he'd deliver the brain himself if he has to. They could do it. He heard they’ve been studying inmates' brains for decades now, anyway.

Before he has a chance to entertain the idea further, though, Bell nods once and rises up from her seat.

Bell walks past him. Her scent, like honeysuckle on ice, hits him like an uppercut in the face. Adler inhales, as if against his will.

He thinks he could get drunk on it.

“Hop in. I’ll drive you back to the hotel,” he says once they’re outside, regretting the decision the moment the words left his lips, but he knows he can’t just leave her on her own at this late hour.

The irony isn’t lost on him, though, considering he just thought about unspooling her brain a few minutes ago.

Bell complies without a protest. Getting inside the passenger seat, wordless still, fingers toying with the radio. An angry, krautrock music comes blaring all over his car. Adler winces, but at least the riot is loud enough to muffle the one's brewing in his head.

"How's your memory these days?"

Bell shrugs. "Nihil novi sub sole." There's nothing new under the sun.

Good, he muses. The least she knows about herself the better.

Though that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet.

"Listen, from now on, I want you to keep me informed if there's any new progress about your memory or if you've developed any new symptoms. I want to know everything." He steals a sidelong glance at her, making sure she is listening (she always does, but Adler needs an excuse)

(An excuse for what?)

"Alright, Bell?"

"Of course," replies the woman in question.

"Good." Adler shifts his attention back to the road. "Good." Taking a long drag, he considers trying to appeal to her sentimental side. It's not something you'd improvise last minute- at least not with someone you brainwashed to believe you are her mentor/confidant for the past decade, but he's itching to know where he stands with her.

"You know, I'm just tryin' to look out for you, kid."

Her lips twitch but the rest of her visage remains impassive and faraway, more like a flick knife than a woman. The correlation is uncanny.

That's when she inches closer. The space between them bridged. He freezes. Hyper-aware of just how dangerous this is, but can’t bring himself to pull back, to look the other way. Not when her hand reaches out to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, eyes still glued to his, and curls her lips around the filter. One heavy pull, and then she rolls down the window and tosses it out on the side of the road.

"Thought I'd reciprocate the sentiment."

And with that, she leans back in her seat before Adler could even process what has just transpired.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Welcome back to the land of the living, kid,” Adler greeted her, about a month ago.

Park had insisted that he had to be there for her when she woke up (naturally, Adler had balked at the idea, but at the English woman’s fact-of-the-matter explanation, also because it had somewhat dawned on him last minute the logic behind her machinations- “both of you are supposed to have known each other for years now. If she doesn't see you by her side, she’s going to wonder why”- thus, here he was)

“How are you feeling?”

Bell blinked owlishly and stared at the older man with those bottomless, cat-like eyes that had haunted him since January.

Her gaze eventually softened as recognition flickered across her face.

“Like someone just hit me in the chest with a bulldozer,” she said hoarsely. “Where are we?”

“St. Dismas’ hospital, Pittsburgh.” Adler got up and fetched her a glass of water from the table. “Although not a bulldozer, but bullets did. That, and you hit your head really hard on your way down. Thought we’d lost you there, Bell.”

Bell drank in silence. She’s still watching him, thinking. This was the first time he realized that he couldn’t exactly read her expression and somehow that threw him off.

“What happened?” she asked, one hand mid-air, like she was deciding which to touch first, hesitating and abandoned the idea.

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head. Adler pretended to look remotely distressed about it. “The doctors warned me about this. It must have been because of the fall- heck, I could even still hear that sickening crunch from here.” He dragged his chair closer towards her bed.

“We were in Amsterdam. Remember Fohler?” she shook her head again. “Well, we’d been tracking this son of a bitch for months, but we were chasing him in Amsterdam. He was running away and climbed up some scaffolding. You were about to go up after him,” he recited the fabricated story he, Park and Hudson had crafted. “He shot you and you fell and hit your head against the pavement.”

Bell looked away first, silent. Her hand gingerly touched the back of her head and winced, albeit only slightly.

Adler was almost impressed, if not, disarmed by how calm and composed her reaction was to all of this. But then again, after having had witnessed first-hand how the woman barely flinched under any kind of interrogation technique they threw at her- a personality built for wrestling tigers- he really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Bell, what is the last thing you remember?”

Bell frowned. “Not much. I remember ‘Nam, but-”

“Vietnam? Kid, that was thirteen years ago.” Adler watched the way her throat bopped, like she was swallowing her own blood and the color drained from her face, just like the first time he’d seen her, and proceeded to drop the bomb:

“Bell, the year is 1981.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Bell dear, would you mind taking a look at this?"

Park's voice sails from across the room. She says it like it's a compound word: Bell-dear. Like the two words belong together. Bell-dear. 2 syllables, 1 word, 9 characters and that just might be the weirdest thing he hears this year and he heard many things.

"Bell dear?" Adler asks much later, his gravel-and-smoke voice reduced to a whisper, when she delivers a document to his table.

Park shrugs as if that explains everything. "What? I like her."

He's tempted to say you really can't put a term of endearment and someone you brainwashed into submission in the same sentence, but what else is new?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They wind up in a bar. It’s called Die Stube and the place’s brimmed with artists and all sorts of leather-clad, Bowie-esque dramatic, chromatic blue eyelids young people chattering over a dirty cloud of smoke.

The two of them colonize a lone booth in the back. It’s dark and the quietest. She orders a beer and he, a scotch and they drink in silence. There are moments where her head would twist to the side, as subtle as a needle and survey the phantasmagorical scene before them, like studying something from a petri dish.

While he’s watching her.

Only to tear his gaze away to the nearest object he can find.

It lands on his watch.

"It’s almost ten. Hudson's contact should be here soon," he announces, if anything to distract himself. She nods mutely in reply, as always, and runs a finger around the rim of her glass.

"The place ain't much of your scene?"

She shrugs, like it's self-evident. "I didn't know this was a scene, though."

"Well, that’s West Berlin for you. A worry-free playground for the hedonists, hipsters and proto-electro NDW enthusiasts with drugs on tap," Adler says, sipping his drink in practiced nonchalance. "Always makes my head spin."

"I guess I remember it differently," Bell replies, tinged with something akin to begrudging.

That warrants his full attention. "What do you remember?”

Bell shrugs again and lights a cigarette instead, menthol, one of those long, skinny cigarettes they only market for women; biding her time, making him wait. She lets the smoke flares from her nostrils so her eyes are veiled.

"It’s hard to explain, but I suppose it’s grittier?” she gesticulates, searching for the right word like she’s skim reading the entire Oxford dictionary in her head. “Bizarrely, infinitely grittier and dimmer? Like being in an underground tunnel and there's not much to see."

Interesting. Maybe she’s recalling one of her ops for Perseus or her mind is confusing her with the world on the other side of the wall.

“Maybe you’re remembering one of our clandestine ops here. It was a few years after Vietnam,” Adler supplies, passing over the tale like bait.

She falls for it, hook, line and sinker.

“Ah, I guess that also explains my fluency in German.”

“I taught you that.” It’s only logical, he decides, that she learned from him. She’s supposed to be his protégé after all.

An elegant brow quirk. "You did?"

"Yeah, though you were already fluent in Latin, Russian, Vietnamese and Portuguese when we first met anyway. You have quite a natural ear, kid.”

She gives him a look. He really can’t categorize it, but it makes it a whole lot harder to fight against her stare.

“What else did you teach me?”

If they were anyone else, the lines could have a potential to entice, to seduce, that winsome, catty-eyelashes coquette, but they aren't anyone else and Bell does not voice it like that. Yet the implication behind the question stirs something in the pit of Adler’s stomach anyway, that tight knot of confusion as it is buried with something else and he finds himself, once again, uncharacteristically speechless.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That particular question of her stays, even hours later, unbidden. Interspersed with her scent and face.

His emotions are a minefield whenever she’s near now. It evokes that newfound rush of terror within him, like walking on a tightrope or being thrown into the pit to face hundreds of hungry lions, bare hands. It makes Adler questions his every decision, and he can’t have that in his line of work.

Adler lights his sixth cigarette, contemplating everything, nothing. Anything to distract him from her. It's 4 am and he’s exhausted, but his mind won’t stop whirring. This isn’t like him at all- like he's lost somewhere in a Dali-style labyrinth that is his head and he wonders if this is a byproduct of his fear or fascination or confusion for the young woman.

He fears it is all of them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(They're only 10 minutes away from East Berlin when he senses it, something akin to burning on his peripheral vision, pulling him like weight.

Bell is staring at him from across the seat.

He cocks his head slightly to the side.

Adler catches the quick, telling quirk of her lips, like she's about to smile but lights a cigarette instead.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Did you hear that?”

Krauss has just crossed the wall and their soles are slippery from the rain. She's panting. Her breath is white like a fog. Adler muses it must be from the running, until his iris trails down to where her hand is clutching his jacket sleeve, the leather creasing like a modulation signal.

“What is it?” Adler asks, hushed. There are no Stasis here, but even one can't be too careful.

“The TV.” She’s gaping at the broken TV next to them. Adler looks at the said object, frowning, then back to her. “Y-you didn’t hear it?”

"Heard what? Bell, the thing's dead."

Bell withdraws from him. Stepping back until her back meets the walls, her eyes seeing and unseeing, like a lens finding focus in the dark, then she closes them, as if trying to regulate her breathing. Adler has never seen her scared shitless of anything before. The sight confuses as it intrigues him.

"Bell, what's going on?" Adler steps closer, but he dares not to touch her.

She shakes her head, dismissive. In just a span of seconds, Bell dons that mask she likes to wear again; deadpan and frustratingly distant. A spike of annoyance drives through him. Just when he thinks he can get through her, there she goes again, retreating behind her palisades.

"Nothing." Bell turns away abruptly and she’s walking again."Let's just go. The others are waiting for us."

He doesn't pry about whatever she heard on the TV- Adler knows better than to beat a dead horse, thank you very much- not even after they save her from Volkov's clutches, after she bashes his head against the steel door and reeks his blood all the way home, it seems superficial at the time.

Until two days later.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The day starts, as it mostly does for the team, with a briefing.

Fifteen minutes in and something like a gasp pulls his attention to her.

That’s when he notices it; her hands are shaking, coffee spilling out of the mug over her hand. A shatter follows. Her mug smashes to smithereens at her feet. She’s swaying, near collapse, like a house of cards about to fall, a hand on her nose.

Adler catches her before she tumbles to the floor.

“Bell!” His arm around her waist tightens, trying to keep her steady. Lazar rushes to their side in a flash and helps him move her to a nearby chair.

"Jesus Christ," he curses, more to himself than to her as he watches blood, a bead of angry red, trickling down her nose. "Sims, get me a washcloth from the bathroom."

He kneels before her once Sims returns with a damp cloth. Nicotine-stained gloved fingers tentatively grasp her chin, holding her still.

“Kid, you alright?” Adler asks, worry bleeds into his voice without him realizing it. He firmly presses the cloth under her nose, his other thumb touches the pulse at her throat- it's almost sickly affectionate. “Bell, talk to me."

Bell looks at him, discombobulated, like he's a figment of her imagination, then blinks. Again and again until she heaves a deep breath.

"I-" she hisses. One hand flies up to her head. "Fuck. My head.”

Adler’s eyes immediately search for Park’s. A knowing look passes over her face and he knows without saying that she's thinking the same thing, like they're attached to the same brain-wire:

MK-Ultra.

There’s a fraction of pause, then Lazar asks, "Should we give her something?”

Before Park can voice her answer, Bell beats her to it. "I already took an anticonvulsant this morning. It should have helped.”

“Wait, this has happened before?” Adler asks.

Bell looks away, a hesitating look shadowing her face. He fears the worst.

“Bell…” he tries again, a slight warning to his tone.

She sighs loudly, as if mentally preparing herself before walking into a storm.

“Yes. Two days ago."

His mind instantly refers to East Berlin, the TV. Trying to connect the dots in his head. It seems far fetched, but now he wonders if she saw something that triggers this. Although he's never read about this on other subjects before, the correlation is just impossible to ignore.

Fuck. He heaves a breath, willing himself to calm down, to think. They can't afford complications at times like these. Not when there's so much at stake right now.

Adler snaps his attention back to Bell when she tries to scramble awkwardly to her feet, swatting his hand away. The hand on her neck immediately reaches for her waist again and pushes her back down onto the chair. His grip's tight enough to leave marks on her skin, but he doesn't care.

"Bell, for fuck's sake, stay still or so help me," he says, exasperated, not letting go of her waist.

"I feel better now." Stubborn little shit.

He is tempted to scream at her face and grab both of her shoulders and shake. “The hell you’re not. Stop fighting it. You’ll only make things worse.”

Her face sours, if only for a millisecond before it morphs into guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Adler watches her for a long moment. It’s only now that he realizes that he’s still holding her waist and the cloth on her face.

He backs away from her like he’s been burnt.

“You should have told me. I thought I made it clear the other night to keep me informed regarding this,” he scolds.

“I’m sorry,” she utters again and she looks so pliable like this, a blank canvas perfumed with obedience and lethal mind. It makes him almost feel sorry for what he has in plan for her once the shit show is over.

“Look, just go back to the hotel and take a day off.” Her mouth cracks open. He raises a silencing hand. “That’s an order, Bell.” But she merely scowls, looking more like jagged ice than a person. Hudson may have just met his match, after all.

“I told you I’m fine.”

“That’s not how it looks to me.”

“It is. It’s my body and I know what I’m feeling, and I’m telling you, I. Feel. Fine.”

His jaw clenches. “Are you disobeying a direct order, agent?”

Bell doesn’t answer, but her whole face remains challenging and hard. Undeterred.

Adler holds his breath. He feels the whole room collectively does the same. It’s like staring down the barrel of a gun and there’s an awful sort of danger to be found in that.

Just when he thinks an imaginary bullet would dig itself into his skin, however, Bell utters, “Of course not.”

And so the woman resumes to her normal, docile self at a drop of a hat. Even when Park steps in and whisks her out of her seat, drives her back to her hotel with Lazar on shotgun.

It doesn’t assuage his worry, though. He’s still restless throughout the day, like a roaring ocean inside a bell jar. She’s never done this before, openly rebels against him. Now, the situation is just bad. Not casually bad or almost-got-shot bad, this is the-entire-Europe-could-turn-into-a-nuclear-wasteland bad, an-armageddon-waiting-to-happen bad.

What if this is the beginning of her old self trying to scratch her way out of the surface? Adler’s blood goes cold at the thought. He is going to have to keep a close eye on this development.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

West Berlin - 1 am, local time.

“How is she?”

“Stable. I’ve administered another dose of Propranolol before I left the hotel. She should be fit as a fiddle in the morning.”

“Tell me, what do you think happened to her?”

“My theory? Traumatic brain injury. A cumulative product of torture, trauma-based mind control and chronic stress. I've read reports about cases like these before in MI6. None of them is still alive to recount the tale, unfortunately."

Adler grips the phone.

“How long do you think we have?”

“Theoretically, 2-3 weeks tops.”

“But?”

He hears Park sighs on the other line. “But then again, none of the subjects I’ve encountered before were like her. So, I suppose it’s still a little too premature to determine at this point."

Adler kneads his temple, feeling the start of that familiar Bell-induced headache forms in his head. Can things just be fucking simple for once?

“We don’t have that much time anyway, Park. And if Hudson gets a wind of this, he’ll want her gone by morning. I can’t let that happen. Not…” he pauses. “Not when we are this close.”

"What are we going to do about her, then?"

Adler sighs.

"Raise the dosages of her drugs,” he says. “And keep an extra eye on her. I think we may be heading into uncharted waters now.”

Tagging: @mvalentine cause you said to tag you with everything i write so 👁👄👁

#russell adler #russell adler x bell #cod bell #cod #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #cod cold war #alex mason #frank woods #helen park #lawrence sims #jason hudson #lazar azoulay

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