#AND WHAT IF I ALSO SAID MAGIC ICELAND STRUGGLING TO ACCEPT IT

[aro-iceland]

and what if i said whale brothers. what if.

[le-souriant]

#MusicMonday Review - June 2024

Five cities, five genres, five themes, five feelings. Give them a listen, with a word from the artists themselves. 🎧

Flesh Machine – F Is For Failing

Can't you see? It's reality Close friends lie, people die so do I

An empty head can't keep up with all that's being said So why do I strive? And what is this no good life?

Let's begin our long journey in Reykjavík, Iceland with an Alternative Synth Rock with a retro vibe that would instantly fit in a John Hughes teenage movie soundtrack about life's coming of age struggles:

"The track originally was a very chill organ instrumental, almost like a church song, then I got inspired by more 80s anthemic songs that inspired it to be more happy/sad sort of track. Feeling like everything is against you but also almost making fun of yourself for thinking that."

Painted Places – Too Idle To See

Procrastination takes its toll Communication heals your soul Exaggeration will be your friend If you're wanting to pretend

No matter where I roam I never want to go home and in the middle of my arc I find it hard to sleep in the dark

We fly now to Stockton-on-Tees, UK, for a Garage Rock track that warns about being too close to comfort... sometimes what you need it's right there for the taking, but you may end up not seeing it:

"It came out of pure boredom on a rainy day. I had nothing to do and was in the mood for recording something but didn't have anything written to record. I downloaded a drum sample, looped it then looped some bass lines over the top and then some guitar riffs. Kept at it all day until it grew into this song. Then we used that demo track as a basis for the band to record this track over the top."

S/J – Never Win (feat. Liv Wallace)

Take me by the hand for a walk on the beach

I whisper through the air how dare you

If only outside would you see me maybe I can be that man

Next stop, Panama City, FL. for an acoustic Alt Country song with a two side love story that's perfect for a duet. Sometimes, you keep waiting for those magic words that may never come... baby you've been my man:

"It is definitely an experience with a certain girl. A love song and story about how it feels to struggle in relationships and never being good enough in your mind for that special person in your life."

Hasse Co – Beautiful Man

the car came drifting picked me up in the cold your star is fading but you're still the most beautiful man i know

and you show up like a dog again easy living you've got everything

From an acoustic sunny beach setting, we now go to Stockholm, Sweden for some Drum & Bass speedy breakbeats that mask the sorrowful sadness of inevitable change:

"The first instrumental version is actually pretty old, from 2017 I think. The lyrics is about dealing with loss, seeing someone again after a long time, knowing things have changed and trying to accept that.

It's a both sad and happy song I guess. And i just like the phrase you're still the most beautiful man i know sounded. :)"

Electric Fence – Black Soul

And now I can feel it through all my flesh and bones Controlling me and trying to enslave me

And I fight against it but I know I cannot win That's why you can't play with forces you can't understand

Last stop... Madrid, Spain, for a track with 100% Rock attitude. The story of a man possessed by an evil spirit in the forest. Yes, he's become a black soul:

"Well we came up with the music first and then built the lyrics around it, so one could say that the music itself inspired the lyrics. It has this mysterious vibe that led to some dark storytelling in the lyrics."

Listen to them and much more on the complete Playlist:

[cat-with-a-tie]

A DenNor analysis of sorts

Hello, sweet chirping crickets! I’ve been shipping this ship for literal years now but have never plucked up the courage to actually interact with anyone or anything, so I’ve no idea why I’m doing it now, in the year of our Lord 2019, but hey, it’s never too late to get dragged back into aph hell.

I plan on posting a series of long ass rants that absolutely no one asked for in which I attempt to discuss the dynamics of DenNor and the Nordic characters in general, drawing mainly on Himaruya’s portrayal, historical facts, and my own headcanons, so welcome to the first installation of Stuff Nobody Really Cares About that I Wrote in a Fit of Boredom and Self-indulgence!

Before we start, if anyone’s reading this at all then please bear in mind that this is mostly just IMHO. And since there’s no correct way to ship a pairing (this cannot be stressed enough), my interpretation is just that—my personal interpretation, and it is by no means impartial because there’s definitely a healthy dose of my own preferences in there. Actually, I haven’t got any mutuals to talk to at the moment, so if my interpretation’s terrible, by all means go on and yell at me, I will love you to death for it.

In this post I’m going to rant about Norway’s personality (or his lack of it, thereof; don’t worry I’ll get to it later), with just a tiny segment on Denmark thrown in the mix, because hey, I do need to sleep.

“Anko” and its implications for Norway’s character

So, as most people probably already know, in the Japanese version Norway calls Denmark “anko”. In the Northeastern dialect he speaks, this is something like a diminutive form of “big brother” or “boss” (yes, Norway calls Denmark big brother!). In East Asian cultures, it is commonplace for younger men to address older ones (related or not) by honorifics ranging from super courteous to super casual, such as “aniki” in Japanese, “hyung” in Korean, and “da-ge” or “ge” in Mandarin. “Anko” also falls under this category, although it is still more casual than the more ubiquitous “aniki”. I struggle to convey its exact denotations in English, but all you need to know is that this is an affectionate way of addressing a man older than you.

But here’s a funny thing: Himaruya once stated that Denmark and Norway are “like classmates” （同級生）. Now, the Japanese term actually has a somewhat different meaning from the English one; “doukyuusei” does not strictly refer to people who are/were in the same class, but to people who belong in the same school year and therefore, in most cases, share the same age. This actually makes sense, because if we consider history, up until the 14th century or so the three Scandinavian kingdoms developed at much the same pace, so it would be reasonable to assume (despite Himaruya’s being abominably vague on nation mechanism) that the characters are of similar ages as well.

Why, then, does Himaruya have Norway refer to Denmark, who should be about the same age as he is, as “anko”? The thing is, aside from denoting age difference, this sort of honorific can also denote a difference in status. Even if someone is not significantly older than you, you may still refer to them with an honorific if you feel their status is above you or wish to pay them respect in an affectionate way.

So, consider this: Norway does not disrespect or look down on Denmark at all, in fact, he respects him enough to call him something akin to “boss” or “older brother”. Bear in mind that this is Norway we’re talking about, Norway of the onii-chan obsession! There’s no doubt that he sees a great deal of significance in this sort of thing, otherwise he wouldn’t be so bent on having Iceland address him as such. And he calls Denmark “big brother”. Just… just take a minute to let that sink in, will ya.

So this brings us to the main subject of my essay, and that is that Norway, for all his sass, is a bit of a doormat.

Now, before anyone starts yelling at me about how his people are perhaps the most fiercely patriotic out of all the Nordic countries, please let me finish my theory. You don’t get independence after centuries of being a glorified trophy bride and not feel the need to vent all that pent up frustration, after all.

First, if you look at strips such as the Denmark vs. Sweden frozen lake fiasco, you’ll see that Norway basically goes along with anything Denmark does, even when he’s actions are outright harebrained (and, to be fair, they often were). He might nag, and he might throw in a word or two of complaints, but at the end of the day Denmark calls the shots, and Norway seems pretty content to let him do so, even when sometime it’s him who has to bear the consequences of Denmark’s brashness (historically, during the many conflicts between Denmark and Sweden, many of which Denmark initiated, Sweden would often bypass Denmark and invade Norway instead, since its lack of military prowess meant that Norway could be used as leverage to force Denmark into accepting all sorts of outrageous conditions; meanwhile, any sort of military action Denmark engaged in was exceptionally taxing—no pun intended—on Norway due to its small population and frequent food shortages). 

Also keep in mind that compared to the strips set in modern times, Norway’s treatment of Denmark was considerably milder in the medieval era. My theory is that his attitude towards Denmark only soured after the chain of events that eventually lead to his independence in the 19th century, buuut that’s an essay for another time! Right now I’d like to discuss a personality trait of Norway’s that fascinates me a lot and directly ties into his tendency to be pushed around: his standoffishness.

This is a character inclined to keep on the sidelines and just watch things unfold, even when said events concern his very own person. He doesn’t seem to give a fig when Denmark and Sweden are fighting to the death—hell, not even when they are fighting over him, something that happened a lot in history.

Now, I can think of two main reasons for this passiveness, the first being that Norway, unlike Denmark, probably knows his own limitations to a degree that I believe must have been painful for him at times (not that he shows it, anyway). Although of course being able to see and communicate with magical creatures could result in one being a little less interested in the mortal realm, I find it unlikely that he was always this disengaged. He was once a Viking, after all, and up until the 13th century his kingdom was arguably the most powerful and expansive in all of Scandinavia.

But then, of course, came the Black Death. Norway’s decline in the late Middle Ages was in fact facilitated by a myriad of factors including civil war, incompetent politicians, and either a shortage or a surplus of kings, but having three quarters of its population decimated by the plague was perhaps the heaviest blow of all, and by the time the Kalmar Union took place the prospects of competing with Denmark or Sweden were pretty bleak.

From there on was what 19th century Norwegian nationalist poet Wergeland dubbed the “four hundred years of night”. Although most modern historians agree that Norway was far from destitute under Danish rule and may even have benefitted considerably from it, in terms of Norway’s development as a character, I reckon it could be said that he was, in fact, shrouded in night. The night in question, however, as opposed to being a symbol of Danish tyranny as Wergeland probably intended it to be, would be more of a metaphor for Norway’s own willingness to “fall asleep”, thereby shutting out a world in which he knew he has no say. In this way, he turned a blind eye on Denmark’s ill-fated endeavors, on Sweden’s budding ambition, on the animosity brewing between his two friends, and probably even on Denmark’s mistreatment of him.

During the Kalmar Union, he must have known that he was the weakest of the three kingdoms, and that it was better to just let things take their course instead of joining the fight for hegemony along with Sweden and Denmark. During the union with Denmark, he knew too that life would be far easier if he just went along with things; after all, he knew Denmark, he knew he was stubborn and that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He also knew that Denmark meant well and that, despite everything, he cared a great deal for his family, as shown in the tax raise strip where Norway tells Denmark that “[it’s OK] because you’re trying your best”. 

It’s possible that Norway also derived some degree of consolation from Denmark’s affection, in that even though as nations they stood on uneven ground, as friends and as people he could still trust Denmark to have his best interests at heart. Also, by telling himself that he and Denmark were “in this boat together”, Norway could avoid the sense of relative deprivation that arose from being a nation in an unequal union, and subsequently avoid feeling resentment towards Denmark, whom he’s always cared for and perhaps even looked up to despite everything. His referring to Denmark as “anko” despite being roughly the same age as him can perhaps be interpreted as a sign of this (arguably unwarranted) trust.

So in short, a prolonged sense of powerlessness led Norway to become emotionally detached as a form of defense mechanism, while affection for his childhood friend made him reluctant to put his foot down when Denmark’s arrogance and blind optimism threatened to get out of hand. All this serves to expedite the standoffishness I mentioned earlier that is typical of his character.

Thus, if we accept the theory (note the italics) of Denmark once upon a time being abusive, I personally find it plenty believable that Norway would just, well, lie back and take it. In part because he cares deeply for Denmark and is dependent on him in a bit of an unhealthy way (there’s already a wonderfully insightful post right here on tumblr addressing Norway’s shyness and how his trust in Denmark sometimes manifests as crassness, so I’m not gonna go into that here), and in part because he knows being submissive is the path of least resistance. Taking whatever Denmark the person inflicts on him would still be far more ideal than going to war with or losing the support of Denmark the nation. So yeah, lie back and think of yourself, I guess.

In this regard Norway’s mentality is drastically different from that of Denmark and Sweden’s, which is that one should always fight a losing battle if the alternative is being trod on. He acts more according to strategy, while the other two act more according to pride and passion. The upside is that, being more pragmatic and knowing his limits, he knows better where and how to deploy his strengths; the downside is that he can at times come off as a bit of a pushover.

Incidentally, this is why I find WWII history to be so damn interesting in terms of the Nordic’s characterisations, because we get to see the Viking Trio seemingly go against everything that had until then defined their personalities. To be fair, this is way after all that fucked up shit with the treaties of Fredrikshamn and Kiel, which I consider a major turning point (or mental growth spur, if you will) for all five Nordics, so I reckon it all still kind of makes sense because of the wonderful mechanics of character development? But then again, that’s an essay for another time!

A bit on Denmark

I like to think of Denmark’s behaviour during his youth as the result of a misguided desire to “play house”—out of love for his family (arguably for Norway in particular) he wishes to keep them safe, and what better way to do that than keeping them all under his wing? Sure, I’m ready to believe at least some part of him was fueled by bloodlust and a thirst for power, as is often the case with nations, but in general he simply didn’t know better.

In the mean time, Norway’s docile compliance did nothing to curb this misconception; worst case scenario, it only served to fuel it, make Denmark feel like he really was the leader and that it was his obligation to be in charge for the sake of them both. I consider their relationship in this time period to be quite toxic, even though related strips show them to be closer than ever.

For me, a significant part of Denmark’s character development is him realising that the happiness of his loved ones should not have to depend on him, and that one can be loved without being needed (in terms of DenNor, it’s him learning to love Norway as an equal and not just someone to be protected/coddled).

For Norway it’s the opposite—he learns to regain control over his own life, to stand up for himself and to love Denmark without taking any bullshit from him.

[saintmachina]

does your beloved accept apprenticeship applications on how to be a person whose international relations background is only mildly related to their esoteric gothic internet presence

I showed this to Beloved @galdramani and here’s what he had to say about it.

Honestly, it’s hard to connect the two only if you get stuck focusing on the larger expectations and notions of what those careers look like. My background in international studies and cross cultural relations has encouraged my own research into the transmission of magic and occult practices precisely because I know how religions and ideas and business move between societies, and the way they adapt and change (and have done so for millennia). 

Because I work with students and staff from all over the world with various backgrounds and faiths, faith discussion is common in office-talk because “everyone has their own thing” and it’s a way we use to understand each other better. Now, I’m not saying bring up Agrippa to your coworker from Taipei on the first day, but people love to talk about customs and beliefs as an icebreaker and over lunch. Small things and details, but not big ideas. 

For example, today I got into a couple-minute discussion about witchcraft in Bible translation which led to discussion about translations and a joke about spells. We then discussed Daniel and the use of divination, and the discussion just continued on and on and no one batted an eye. All this in the company cafeteria, where we’re just as likely to talk about the Chinese news and how Canadian politics have affected Chinese companies which in turn could affect the US dollar. Maybe I’m lucky with my coworkers but after years in this field I think it’s also a field that has weirder people than most assume. Also? People love history and the occult is immensely historical. Strange little “fun facts” are appealing to everyone and you don’t need to go very deep. 

I guess what I’m saying is, I view my esoteric hobbies a second job that doesn’t have to influence my day job ( although it’s a nice day when it does). I also have an advantage because with my coworkers and students love to ask me about it (Icelandic magic and ciphers made me very cool during orientation week). So my best suggestion for anyone struggling with ideas about an international studies/relations career and how it meshes with the occult is to view it from a cultural standpoint. Be a judge of character and maintain some tact but use your interest in magic as a way to connect the dots. Literally everyone has their “thing” and the more comfortable you are with it, that’s an energy that helps people open up and talk about their own “thing”. The international career field is honestly one of the most bizarre but potentially welcoming and yes, diverse careers imaginable. Understand that and you’ll be well on your way.

…That said, internship applications will re-open on the next blood moon.

[writinanon]

Goddess of War II

Rook had known she was different from the first time that her mother put a spear in her hand and showed her how to throw it. Normal mothers apparently do not do this. How was Rook to know? Normal mothers also don’t call you after the Ancient Tongue that mortals cannot speak for it became Taboo and then they simply forgot. Normal mothers are mortal. And mortal mothers are not Freyja. But Rook wouldn’t trade her mother for anything in the world. When it was time to be on her own Rook chose the northern Hemisphere of the New World for she had heard it had many forests and many fields. The southern Hemisphere was filled more with jungle than forests, though she would like to see the salt flats reflect the sky.

The first signs that Rook was very different came when she decided to join the police force. She was living in upstate New York; lush and green why would anyone want to be in that forsaken city? But they had almost laughed her away, claiming her beauty was too much. That she couldn’t have any idea how hard it would be to be a cop. As she excelled in firearms and in law and being a stronger and better protector than anyone else they whispered she was sleeping around to get her grades, that she was an air head. She chose to leave policing, it was too prejudice to accept her. She searched and searched until she found some place that reminded her of home, she was sick for it. Her talks with her mother were infrequent and she wanted someplace to feel herself again. Hope County, Montana was perfect. Rural and secluded it reminded her of the valley she was raised in. She took the position as soon as possible.

The Sheriff was kind, benevolent and warm. He viewed her as young and inexperienced but that wasn’t a bad thing, merely something it would take time to correct. He didn’t comment on her looks or her body. He praised her skills and welcomed her with open arms. It was nice to have a man to look up to. Rook’s uncles were distant at best of times, at worst they were Loki and teaching her magics her mother didn’t want her to know until she was older for good reasons. Staci was also kind, a more familiar brotherly teasing like Rook had with her cousins and with Hel’s children. Joey was distant, from what Rook gathered it was her partner that she was replacing and that Joey felt responsible for his death. Soothing the pains of death was not a skill that Rook had but her mother told her patience and sincere foods were a good start. The final Deputy, Nancy, made chills crawl down Rook’s spine the first time they met. There was something wrong with her. It wouldn’t be until much later that Rook learned of Nancy’s involvement with the Cult, but the sensation of ill intent had been there before.

Being the daughter of the Goddess of Fertility, Love, Beauty, Sorcery, and Gold would have been simple enough. But Freyja was also the Goddess of War and a Goddess of Death. These parts of her nature were ignored by many, especially with Christianity rolling through if it didn’t destroy her completely it rendered her helpless. Freyja was not helpless. Rook was not helpless, but even fighting the criminals of Hope and having that be her ‘war’ to take tithe from was leaving a burning itch under her skin.

“I’m happy here, I am. I just… Sometimes I feel like razing it to the ground and sitting among the ashes.” She confided to her mother.

“Oh I expect you’ll have more fun than you realize soon enough Kit.” Her mother stroked her hair as several of her new kittens crawled over her. Rook hummed and smiled as one had finally managed to climb up her side and was now seated on her chest.

“If the government would listen to us I could pluck Eden’s Gate from were they have settled. I would enjoy rooting out their vines and ripping them from the ground.” It was rare that she allowed herself to revel in such thoughts, mostly to keep those that she had come to love in the time she’d been here safe. Rook was a Goddess herself, in her own ways. She lacked her mother’s sorcery gifts but held beauty, she suspected most all Immortals did it was rare that they were ugly and even if they were it was still better than mortal standards, fertility, she could make anything grow, and love with ease. But the things that her mother passed to her that had taken deepest root were War and Death. It was why she became an officer of the law, she could ‘fight’ crime. She had briefly considered military life but concluded it would end in more bloodshed than it would be worth.

“Hm.” Her mother hummed to regain her attention. “Is that Little Man giving you troubles?” Her mother’s smile was frightening.

“You know of Joseph Seed?” Rook sat up and turned to fully face her mother. Freyja chuckled softly.

“Shortly after you left he came, visiting Home. Your grandmother had Foreseen him, had Seen them all really and so I took a look. He’s an amusing Little Man, isn’t he?”

“I haven’t met him personally but the Sheriff fears him, in truth they all fear him.” It worried her, this undercurrent of fear that the County lived under. It was oppressive. It was cruel. It beckoned to that violent nature she kept tightly under lock and key.

“Perhaps you’ll have your chance to destroy him for them then.” There was a warming thought. To take away the fears of those she cares for. She said nothing but knew she had to return home shortly. “I hate that you went so far, was Iceland truly so bad?”

“I must make my own way Mother, all of us must.” Freyja wrinkled her nose but pressed a kiss to Rook’s forehead.

“Be safe my little Kitten. Reign hell upon thy enemies.”

“Be safe Mom. Slay those that would oppress you.” She stood and made the necessary portal back to her ranch. Magic was not her strong suite but what she could manage she was a master craftsman. She stepped through and stood in her bedroom. Tomorrow would bring good things.

“God will not let you take me.” Joseph Seed was issuing her a challenge. His eyes were boring into hers. He offered his hands, as though he wanted her to fast them. She almost wanted to, here in this moment she felt weak for the first time since she was a child. Weak to a man of all things. She shook it off and took his hands to cuff his wrists. There was recognition in his eyes, he remembered her mother. She almost smirked at him, almost told him that he didn’t understand what he was asking for with his challenge. “Sometimes it’s better to leave well enough alone.” He whispered to her, eyes tracing over her face. Her stomach clenched and she almost kissed him. Instead she pulled him away, to the helicopter that would crash. She had no doubt that they wouldn’t be reaching their destination. She made sure to slow time just a little. Just so she could speak with him.

“If you want war, you’ll get it.” She promised, smile curling onto her lips. Yes, this was what she wanted, she wanted to take everything he held dear and crush it into dust, prove she could. She would prove her strength to him, show him that she was not a mortal that she was a Goddess. For a long moment he just stared at her and then a strange serenity took him and he started to sing. Amazing Grace.

John’s hands on her shoulders held her under and she struggled. Not that this would really kill her but emptying the lungs of water was painful. And then Joseph came. Stating she was to be saved, hinging John’s salvation on it. She watched them, waiting. She wondered if Joseph intended to try and convert her, truly convert her, to his side. How interesting. It would take much groveling and promises and tithing but deep in her heart she knew it possible. But first her friends would need to be freed. Who said she had to follow the whims of a Man? He wanted a War and she would give it to him.

[your-dietician]

How do I give up my struggle with anxiety?

New Post has been published on https://depression-md.com/how-do-i-give-up-my-struggle-with-anxiety/

How do I give up my struggle with anxiety?

Hi everybody,

I just want to be clear before I start that I appreciate this is a comment section on a post on Paul David’s blog, not my own personal blog to seek constant reassurance or to share my own experience. However, this place has so many wonderful, helpful people and I feel the need to ramble (and I do think this will seem like a rambling post) and I can’t think of anywhere better to do it. Apologies for how long this post will be – please don’t feel obliged to read it if you don’t want to. However, I hope that some of what I say might help others, and I’ll admit that I also hope somebody might have something reassuring to say to me because I’m still stuck at that stage.

So, if you were to scroll up ever so slightly, you’ll find a fairly distressed-sounding post from myself only a few days ago. This post didn’t illicit a response from anybody, which is fine. But first and foremost, I just want to let anyone who read it know that things have been better since that post. Paul has spoken often about waking up in the morning scanning how you feel as soon as you find consciousness. Well, I always wake up in an absolute state in the mornings: tired; deeply anxious; emotionally flat and quite frightened. This feeling usually backs right off once I haul my body out of bed, but sometimes it gets the better of me and I end up doing things like that previous post of mine. But here comes my first important realisation – it’s okay! I realise I don’t need to try and wake up peacefully. I don’t need to allow my feelings to demoralise me on waking. It’s okay to feel grotty. But by the same token, I also DON’T NEED TO give myself a hard time if my first thought is ‘ugh… still there’. Essentially, I’m saying that those mornings feelings are harmless, but the negative thoughts I attach to them are not something I have to force myself not to think. Whilst it’s key to stop caring about how you feel to move away from frustration surrounding anxiety, if I’m frustrated in the morning, it’s fine. I can take my frustration with me when I get up – it’s really just anxiety.

I’ve also been fretting a lot about the fact I’m on medication and having CBT. I would compare to feeling like I’m ineligible for membership of a club, by which I mean I can’t follow what Paul David teaches because I’m doing things to feel better instead of just accepting. But then I had another realisation. While I completely agree with Paul’s teachings and believe it is the road to recovery, I need to stop worrying about the fact I’m taking pills and… you guessed it… accept it. The reason people often don’t move forward with pills is that they’re actively trying to force themselves better by taking them. Well, I already know that patience, understanding and acceptance are the way through this. So why beat myself up over the pills? I need to accept that, at this point in time, I’m taking medication. Pills don’t have to be a barrier to recovery if I employ the right attitude, which basically means not seeing them as a magic fix and then collapsing in despair when they don’t fix me. It’s the same with the CBT. If I go to a session and feel relaxed and find talking to my counsellor cathartic, why worry about it? If I see him as some kind of sorcerer who’s going to magic my anxiety away, I will struggle. It will be a barrier. However, if I treat it as an appointment I have to keep, stop linking it directly to my anxiety and just see it as a chance to offload some stress and enjoy an hour’s relaxation, it can have a place in my life, and indeed in my recovery. What I’m trying to say is that, yes, pills and therapy can get in the way and I see how they can do that, but with the right attitude, they don’t have to.

At the moment, I’m still stuck in the anxiety spiral. I’ve made progress in that I feel far less ill. However, I still feel frightened, weary and spaced out. I still emotionally flat. I think it was Belgian who told me that I can see the difference between knowing something in my head and believing it deep deep down. Well, I can honestly say that I completely buy into what Paul says – he’s right, I’m certain of it. But I haven’t achieved real acceptance. Deep deep down, I’m still scared and still struggling. I’ve certainly come a long way with the physical symptoms. It’s amazing how losing your fear of them really does take away their edge. They’re paper tigers. But what I haven’t lost my fear of yet, what I’m not able to accept, is depersonalisation and derealisation, and the emotional flatness and scary thoughts that come with it. I’m terrified of psychosis and haven’t been able to accept that the thought is there in my head. I don’t think it helped when a mental health professional at the hospital said: “there’s no psychosis yet”. That ‘yet’ set me back a long way. Now all I can think is that I’m at risk of it, and I carry thought around with me a lot. Hopefully, I’ll be able to come to terms with that thought in time, but it’s very hard.

Another thing that bothers me is that I wrongly thought this all started with my first panic attack in January. I had one at work and didn’t know what it was and it led me into this spiral. However, I now realise I’ve been having panic attacks for years. Mild ones, yes, but they’ve been going on for years. What worries me is that I never feared them. I actually enjoyed them. I’d get a rush of adrenaline, a moment of derealisation and flashing images in my head, and then my heart would pound and I’d start to sweat. I liked it! It was disconcerting, and I thought they might be seizures, but now I know exactly what they are. What bothers me is that I never feared these sensations, so why do they keep coming? I genuinely never fed them fear (except for the first one or two), and yet they kept coming. That makes me think I’ll have to put up with it forever, which isn’t terrible in itself given that I used to like them, but they now cause my anxiety to spike.

I also realise I’ve had anxiety for years – possibly from the moment I was conceived. It doesn’t matter what the cause is, but I can see it now. So many things make sense. I’ve had blurred vision since a stressful time at work two years ago. I’m 31 and thought it was the result of staring at computer screens so much, but several opticians said my eyesight was very strong. The blurriness was anxiety! I’ve had eye floaters for years – anxiety! I’ve been awkward and frightened of social occasions – social anxiety! It’s all been there, building to this.

So, given all the fear I still have, what has Paul David, Anxiety No More and people here done for me over the past couple of months? Well, more than any doctor. More than any therapist. More than any mental health professional. Every doctor I’ve seen has only been trying to help me, but they just don’t understand anxiety and depersonalisation. They really don’t. It’s so common and so poorly understood. It’s no wonder people end up on internet forums, making themselves worse in the process. I believe the medical profession needs to reach out to sufferers and ex-sufferers in a big way – certainly more than they do. They could do worse than seek out Paul David. It was Paul who nipped by developing agoraphobia in the bud. It was Paul who got me out of bed. It was Paul who helped me trust my wobbly limbs. It was Paul who told me why I was trembling. It was Paul who told me why I felt sick. It was Paul who told me what that awful feeling of dread actually was. It was Paul who told me why I’d lost my emotions and the world seemed like a dream. It was Paul who told me I could have the life I wanted. That is what got me back to work. That is what stopped me cancelling a trip to Iceland. Oh god, it was hard at times, but I still managed to enjoy it. I have this feeling that should I recover, I’ll back and think ‘if I could have that trip again, I’d not want to do it without the anxiety’. How weird is that? What I’m saying is that, although I’m mired in the condition, Paul David, Anxiety No More and you guys got me back on my feet. Yeah, maybe I’m doing things wrong, maybe I haven’t accepted things yet, maybe I’m still chasing recovery, but, in a contradictory way, I’m starting to accept that I will think of recovery! I’m allowed any thought! It’s that simple.

I live in west London but I’m currently at my mum and dad’s place on Merseyside where I grew up. My dad’s been playing bass since the ’60s and last night I went to a pub open-mic night with the pair of them to watch him play. I’ve always felt awkward when I go. I think I come across as a bit off with my parents’ musician friends. I also never know where to look because everyone is a stranger to me except for my parents. When the music’s playing, you can’t really make conversation with people, so I just feel plain awkward. Last night, I took a bag of anxiety with me. It was horrible. Something was screaming at me to leave. But I didn’t leave. I stayed till 2 am. I didn’t even drink because of the anti-depressants. I sat there, probably seeming weird to people (though let’s face it, in reality, I probably didn’t) and I felt grotty, but I loved seeing my dad doing the thing he loves. Incidentally, it was nice to feel that. What I realised was that I was being lied to by my anxiety. “Michael, you need to get out of here”. “No, I don’t”. “You’ve been here hours now, can’t we just get out?” “Yes, but we’re not going to. Up yours, anxiety”.

I know I’m doing things wrong. I have mantras (‘anxiety is a lie’, ‘DP is harmless’, ‘you’re not going mad’ are prime examples). I have safety behaviours. I was given a load of Diazepam by my GP and although I pretty much never take it, I do tend to carry it around with me ‘just in case’. And chief among them, I frequent this site – reading Paul’s blogs, success stories, reassuring comments. I read Paul’s stuff about DP over and over and over again. I know that all this needs to stop. But instead of worrying about it, I realise I need to stop giving myself a hard time. I need to accept that, right now, there’s a Diazepam in my wallet, notice that I never take it, and then carry on. I need to accept that I find myself on this site and that, if I keep believing in what it teaches, I’ll not need it as much. One of the few doctors to genuinely help me was actually a nurse practitioner. I was in a dreadful state and I told her how I was worried that the pills and CBT were just crutches and might be making me worse and she pointed out that I’d probably find a bit more peace if I stopped beating myself up for needing crutches. She agreed that crutches can’t fix me long term, but I was in such a state that I needed to give myself a break. She was right.

So… I can’t promise that I won’t be back on here looking for help. I realise that I’m not properly putting everything down to anxiety and am still separating symptoms out. I realise I’m not fully accepting and that I’m still engaged in safety behaviours, still riven with fear and still doing things to feel better. But I also ACCEPT all of that. I can’t change all my habits on the spot – Paul says the same thing. Anxiety is going to go round and round in my head and I’m going to stay focused on how I feel. That’s what my mind wants to do. I’m not in that fight. I’m laying down my weapons. My mind can do as it chooses. And as I take the pressure off, and start to see anxiety for what it is, the fear will hopefully begin to slip away, the way it already has done over some of my symptoms.

I’m living now. I’m tired of doctors’ waiting rooms. I’m tired of thinking I can’t do stuff. So how am I living? Well, I’m saying yes to things. I’m meeting friends. I’m going to work. I’m getting out of the house. I’m running. I’m looking forward to my train journey back to London on Monday (first class!). I’m planning my next trip (I’m thinking Morocco). I’m considering some volunteering. I’m taking trips to Bedfont in west London to watch planes landing at Heathrow. I’m getting back into reading (not self-help books!). I’m getting my blog back on the road. I’m going to watch my sister and niece horse riding tomorrow. I’m watching football. I’m considering getting involved in local politics. And you know what? I’m not doing ANY of it to feel better. Anxiety has taught me something. Not only can I do the things I always enjoyed, I can also add new things to my life.

I want to leave you with something really positive that happened to me. Earlier this week, a friend wanted to meet for lunch, which is not unusual. I wasn’t in work that day, so I was up for it. I was quite surprised when he told me that he needed to talk about something. Naturally, I was worried about him. I’ve known him for three years, but I never knew how much of a thinker and ruminator he was. He’d had a hangover and, days later, his headache was still there and he was thinking deeply about it all day and thought he was developing anxiety. Of course, I’m no expert and advised him to see a doctor about any persistent headache. But I told him, that as far as I was concerned, he was overthinking himself into pain. He didn’t ‘have anxiety’, he was anxious. I told him that the fact he keeps thinking something awful is happening in his head doesn’t mean that it is. He just needed to stop seeing his thoughts as truth. I didn’t tell him to fight the thought, just to… here it is… accept it. Anyway, I got a lovely message of thanks from him today telling me that he’s fine now and his head is back to normal. I never for a second thought he was in the same position as me or anyone of us on here who is suffering, but he did need help. Thanks to anxiety, I was able to offer it. Who knows? He may have issues in the future. But I think he’ll be okay.

So… if you’ve read all this, thank you so much. If you’ve anything to say on my fears, especially the fear of psychosis, I’d love to hear it. On the other hand, if you think I’ve said anything that you disagree with, feel free to say. I’m just trying to navigate my way to the place where I am truly accepting all of this and it’s not hindering my life. If others can do it, why not me? Why not you?

Be kind to yourself. I intend to be kind to me from now on.

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[writingonjorvik]

The B Team Druids - Chapter 8 - A Lesser Hero

It took Carrie a while to get herself woken up. She’d only consciously done this once, and the process was still hazy for her. There was no magic words or actions or process that she could identify, there was just a feeling that washed over her and told she could wake up. Not exactly a lot to go on there.

While she was trying though, she watched the remaining individuals in the room sort out their actions. Elizabeth immediate began to take care of Bree, Saoirse set Carrie’s body down and called Raven, and Ari looked like she was struggling to keep calm. When Saoirse walked out to find Raven, Ari stepped up to make sure Carrie was alright.

Saoirse returned shortly with Raven in tow. The Star druid first set to waking Bree up, who came to looking even paler than before, but that also might just have been the drastic contrast between her and Raven. With Elizabeth and Raven’s help though, they got Bree turned away from Carrie to keep the flighty girl from fainting a second time and so Raven could check on Carrie.

When Carrie finally managed to pulled herself back into her body, she had five worried pairs of eyes watching her, Raven and Ari the most immediate around her.

Carrie gave a weak half wave. “Afternoon.”

“Afternoon yarself,” Saoirse said, taking a step closer. She sounded snarky, like she normally would, but her inflection had a hint of worry. “Ya gave us a bloody big scare dere.”

“Not my intention to randomly fall asleep,” Carrie answered, trying to grin.

“Are you narce- narca- na- narcoleptic?” Bree asked, looking off as she thought through the word. “I thought that was a really rare condition. Do you need medication? I can make something. Are you ok with herbal remedies? BecauseIknowsomepeoplehaveaproblemwithallnaturalandIdon’t--”

“Breade,” Saoirse stated, giving Bree a side eye. Bree practically swallowed her tongue as she drew back the rest of her question. She took a moment, her cheeks puffed out, before letting out a long drawn breath. As Bree was uncurling her tongue, Saoirse turned back to Carrie. “Do ya need anyding? Water? Tea? Food?”

Carrie shook her head, slowly pushing herself up on her arms. Ari rest a hand on Carrie’s shoulder. “Don’t rush. The blood will, like, rush back into your head and make it worse.”

The stare Raven gave Ari for that comment had no emotion in it, but Carrie thought it might be that Ari was wildly off the mark, and giving medical advice in front of a trained healer seemed a little silly. When Raven noticed Carrie was watching, the druid only nodded. “Rest. Drink. Breathe.” She turned, pointing to Saoirse. “Water and mint.”

There was something in Raven’s voice Carrie hadn’t noticed before. The strain in it, yes, but there was something like the sound of two coarse wires being dragged over each other as well. Something in her throat.

Elizabeth stopped Saoirse. “Let me.” She slipped through, walking towards a cabinet over in Carrie guessed was the house’s kitchen. The house was rather studio like now that Carrie thought about it, very open concept. She couldn’t see a stove from where she was, but it seemed a safe bet when Elizabeth came back with a pitcher of water with mint leaves floating in it and glasses, as well as a little bottle of painkillers.

“Slowly,” Elizabeth said, handing Carrie a cup. Carrie nodded her thanks, sipping on it. “Do you know what happened? Why you slipped out?”

Carrie looked over for a moment before Saoirse and Ari. They didn’t look at each other, but both of them seemed ready to accept whatever Carrie said. Carrie returned her attention to Elizabeth. “I’m not really sure, no. I guess, um, a high amount of magic around me seems like it can set it off. Is that normal?”

“That is difficult for me to say,” Elizabeth replied. “There’s nothing normal about these abilities. Dreamwalking, that’s what Jon Jarl called it. Orienmancy.”

“You can see people’s dreams?” Bree asked, her face lighting up. “Did you see mine?”

“Uh, no,” Carrie answered, shaking her head. When Bree started to look disappointed, Carrie added, “But I can’t really see into anyone’s. It’s more like a, uh, like a dream world. Like some kind of twilight zone.”

Saoirse turned to Elizabeth. “Dat sounds a lo’ like Pandoria.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Carrie, what color was this world?”

“Well, it was this one? Just kinda gold and peach,” Carrie said. She took a sip of the water before asking, “Are there other worlds?”

“We know of one other,” Elizabeth explained. “Pandoria, Garnok’s home reality. But that place looks nothing like this world. No, I believe this is something else, some kind of between.”

Before Carrie could really asked, Bree raised a hand. “It sounds like Carrie is going to a nicer Upsidedown, but Pandoria is more like a Narnia situation. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, you watch Stranger Things?” Carrie asked, grinning.

Bree’s face lit up. “I streamed it last week. Oh my goodness, can you believe--”

“Anoder time, please,” Saoirse cut in. “Do ya know how serious i’ is dat where dis dream world is?”

“Not really?” Carrie answered. How was she supposed to respond? She barely knew what her powers were, much less if there was consequences to using it.

“Ya could be openin’ rifts all over de country if ya’re no’ careful,” Saoirse said.

Elizabeth sighed. “Let’s not be drastic, Saoirse.” The red-head nearly cut daggers at Elizabeth for the comment, but the older woman was oblivious to it. “There was no fluctuation at Jon Jarl’s mound, and there’s nothing here. I think it’s more likely that Carrie’s right, and this is some kind of twilight zone between here and our plane, but not enough to tap into the dimension bridging our world to Pandoria. That being the case though, perhaps we should test that theory.”

The five young women all turned towards Elizabeth, confused. Saoirse asked first, “Ya wan’ us to try to open a rif’?”

“Ms. Elizabeth, is that safe?” Bree asked, curling up her hand as she asked. “What if we do rip open the tear? The protection wards have been getting weaker and weaker lately. There’s a serious chance a really wound could open soon, whatifweactuallytearsomething?” Bree took a deep breath. “It could go very badly.”

“I have a team dedicated already to investigating this flux, headed by Alex. But between a trained rune technician and one of our portal specialists, it should be fine. And if it goes poorly, I’ll personally send Alex and Linda to come help you.”

“And take dem away from wha’ dey’re already workin’ on,” Saoirse grumbled. Ari elbowed her, cutting Saoirse’s next sentence off.

“Besides, you all are a unit now,” Elizabeth said. “You won’t be able to form any kind of Soul Rider bond without some teamwork. So here’s your first mission. Test Carrie’s reality for any dangerous anomalies, and then we’ll move forward with getting you all into the Jarl’s tomb to form your bond. Alright?”

Carrie nodded. “That seems fair.” Bree agreed immediately, nodding fervently. Ari barely looked up, but motioned her agreement. Raven was silent beside Saoirse, as all eyes turned on them.

Raven glanced at Saoirse. “Help.”

Saoirse grimaced, before letting out a disgruntled sigh. “Achk, fine, bu’ don’ ya dare send Linda. She’s go’ too much on her hands. Alex would be enough. I can handle this.”

“I will do what is safe for our order,” Elizabeth answered, looking around the five of them. “But I think it will go quite well. Best of luck to all of you.” She motioned to her door, smiling, though Carrie felt something weary on the druid’s shoulders. Carrie took the cue to leave.

Outside, Valedale was as cheary and quaint as it had been a few hours ago, oblivious to the conversation that had happened in those closed doors. Carrie wondered if any other druids would even know about this. It seemed like she had stumbled on a secret the leaders of the Keepers didn’t want being passed around knowing about the actual Champion of Aideen, a surprise addition probably wasn’t on their highest order to spread if it meant sharing that secret.

“Bloody hell,” Saoirse griped, closing the door and whistled loudly for Copper. As the Icelandic trotted over, she looked at Carrie. “We goin’ now? I know a spo’ to tes’ i’, bu’ Raven says I can’ jus’ knock ya ou’. Are ya up to i?”

“You’re going to hit her?” Bree asked, aghast and taking a step away from Saoirse.

Saoirse turned to Bree, mouth slightly open and her brows twisted in a confused expression. “Did ya really jus’ fuckin’ ask dat? No, I’m no’ goin’ to hi’ her, bu’ de only way we know how to send Carrie into her dream state is wid a lo’ of magic. De magic from de Jarl’s tomb firs’ and now between--” She cut herself off and looked at Ari, who briefly looked up and shrugged. Saoirse turned back to Bree. “Dat’s all we go’ righ’ now. Bu’ gettin’ hi’ migh’ feel better dan my magic.” The last sentence was added quieter than the rest.

“How about food first?” Carrie offered. As Saoirse and Bree both started to point towards the cafe in Valedale, Carrie shook her head. “No, somewhere private. Any other restaurants in the area?”

“There’s a restaurant up at the observatory,” Bree said. “I need to get Sidhe if we’re going there though.”

“Does that work for everyone else?” Carrie inquired, looking around their circle. Everyone nodded or answered yes after a moment. Letting out a brief sigh, Carrie nodded. “Good. Um, I’m gonna get going then. I need a moment. Meet you there?”

“Ya sure?” Saoirse asked, already on Copper’s back.

“Yeah, just a minute. I’ll text when I’m cool,” Carrie replied, climbing onto Ash’s back. The mare snorted a welcome before Carrie pulled them off up the trail behind Elizabeth’s house. She heard Saoirse move to follow, but there were no hoofbeats continuing besides Ash’s.

When they rounded the bend, Carrie stopped Ash in front of the glowing pillars. The fact that they were still glowing made her uncomfortable. This whole idea of being some chosen one didn’t feel right. And it felt less right the more she was worrying about tearing a seam in reality. She wasn’t some kind of hero though. She was just her, and at the end of the day, she knew she was more worried about herself than anyone else. Not because she didn’t care, but because...what could she do? Even with magic abilities, what was dream walking going to do to protect any of her friends from a demon? What was that compared to magic Saoirse had? The Champion’s powers were probably even stronger than that.

Carrie shook her head. She had told herself she was going to try. She wasn’t going to just be pulled down some path because she happened to have this chosen gift. If she was going to be a chosen whatever, she was going to face it and not let fate just drag her away.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to doubt the being who decided it was a good idea.

Carrie gave the pillars one last look. She sighed, not sure what this meant for her and her life here in Jorvik. But there was only one way to find out. So Carrie asked Ash on.

[asgardian-light]

Random HC #23 (Continuation of #4 - #22)

Secrets?!

The night is long over and has made room for a new morning. That’s the first thing, Sportacus realizes, when he opens his eyes with a small yawn. The next fact, catching his attention is that it though isn’t as bright in the airship as it uses to be at this time of day and the next second, he can already hear the raindrops, splashing against the outside of his home. Usually, he’d feel a little disappointed when he understands that the day will be rainy. Probably too rainy for the kids to play outside. But today is different… His eyes roam Robbie’s relaxed body. The other is still cuddled up close to him and he can feel the steady heaving and sinking of his chest against his hand, still resting on the villain’s back. Robbie’s hands are lightly holding on to the hero’s pajama top, as if he wants to make sure that he isn’t leaving him after all. The damp cloth on his forehead had actually soaked through Sportacus’ top, but it feels warm meanwhile and therefore, he still doesn’t really care… He can’t help a soft, happy smile, although he can still feel the heat coming from the other’s body, proving that his fever still hasn’t ceased one bit. But at least, Robbie slept peacefully through this part of the night… Sportacus gently starts caressing the villain’s head again, extracting a soft noise from him. It’s a very low humming, almost edging into a purr. The hero’s smile brightens and his heart does a small, happy jump. Robbie simply looks incredibly cute, when he’s sleeping this peacefully and this sound only adds to his appearance. It makes Sportacus wish to be able to watch him sleep like this, every morning, to hold and cuddle him and help him realize that he’s not alone. On the contrary. The hero would do anything for him! But at exactly this thought, Sportacus’ heart grows heavy again, because it reminds him that Robbie isn’t here, because Sportacus told him how he feels about him and he shares these feelings, but because he’s still very sick and needs his care. And this leads straight to the question whether the hero’s care actually will be enough to help Robbie becoming all healthy again. He still doesn’t know what is wrong with him, after all. So he should take him to a doctor, as soon as possible! But…why does his instinct still reject this obviously right decision? …Maybe…because something about Robbie’s symptoms simply doesn’t seem right? Sportacus is no doctor, of course, but he does now a lot about illnesses, injuries and medicine in general. It was his second favorite class at school, right after health education (and yes, even before P.E., because as much as he loves to move around all the time, it was NOT his favorite class during his time at school). And the way, Robbie has described his hallucinations and how the last one came along with his fever and stomach cramps… It’s just strange… And adding to these doubts comes Robbie’s obvious fear of doctors. What if he’ll only make it worse by taking him to a real physician? And with this very likely also loose his trust again, he managed to build up during the past half a day? He sighs lowly. He’s used to facing problems and fixing things. But this situation now… He knows that he’s letting this get to him on a level, where it becomes difficult, if not even impossible to remain objective about Robbie’s condition. But how could he NOT feel horrible and scared, himself, when someone he likes so much is involved?! …He never understood… That’s why most of his teachers always told him that he’d never graduate and become a hero. But he did. And then he was send to LazyTown to capture this man and take him back to his people to be punished. But he couldn’t. Because he instantly felt that Robbie is not evil. On the contrary… And now he realized that he…fell in love with him. He’s not sure when exactly, nor how. But…he is sure that this emotion, sparkling in his chest, each time, he does so much as look at Robbie, is love. A love, that goes beyond pure friendship… “…Oh, Robbie…” he swallows hard and runs his hands through his hair and over his back again, before he places a long, soft kiss on his hair and tries to shift away from him. At once, he’s met by a low but heartbreaking whimper and the grip on his shirt tightens “…Sportacus…” The hero freezes in his move. “…Shush…” he quickly pulls the villain closer again and nuzzles his nose into his hair, murmuring “I’m here. It’s okay…” “…Hm…” Robbie moves his head, the cloth drops down on the bed and he mumbles once more “…Sportacus?…” “Yes,” the hero smiles softly, although he knows, the other can’t see it “…Are you awake, Robbie?…” “…No, I sleeptalk,” grumbles the villain and sighs lowly “Silly question, Sportagoof…” “I’m sorry,” he chuckles and strokes through the black hair once more “…So… May I get up? I want to prepare some breakfast. You need to eat…” “It’s your bed. Of course, you can get up,” mumbles Robbie, but without loosening his grip on the other’s top one bit “…But I’m not hungry…” “But you NEED to eat!” carefully, Sportacus removes the villain’s hands, ignoring the half suppressed whine for the moment, and makes sure that his patient is lying comfortably, propped up by the pillows, then he jumps out of bed and turns to look at him with a serious gaze “ESPECIALLY if you don’t want me to take you to a doctor right away!” “That’s blackmailing!” Robbie quirks a brow, a light smile tugging at his lips “Should I feel proud now, that you’ve learned something from me?” “I’m serious, Robbie. This isn’t for joking!” Sportacus crosses his arms “I’m really worried about you!” “…Yeah, I… I know…” Robbie looks away uneasily, his voice low “…But you’re waisting your time…” “Why do you keep saying this?! Robbie!” Sportacus kneels back down at the edge of the bed and takes both of the other’s shaking hands in his own, searching his eyes “Don’t you understand that… That I… That you’re incredibly important to me?! Since you are so sick, I feel horrible! I try to figure out how to help you, but for the first time in my life, I feel completely powerless and scared and desperate! Please…” he lets go of Robbie’s left hand to cup his cheek instead, he barely notices his own tears before they start running down his face “…You’re so pale… Robbie, if you know or have any idea what could be wrong with you, you HAVE to tell me! Now!” Robbie breathes in. He struggles to not lose himself entirely in the touch of the hero. “…You…have to be more careful…” his voice is low and strained. “…What?…” “…I guess, you’ve lost this during your sleep…” a very weak, wry smile washes over the villain’s lips, when his free, left hand now blindly reaches for something next to him and then holds it up, next to his face and into the hero’s view “…Next time, this might happen, when somebody else is around, who isn’t me and therefore quite surprised, not to say…shocked…” Sportacus stares at the item in the other’s hand and the next second, he’s sure, he becomes just as pale as Robbie, and his voice threatens to stop working when he now rasps “…You… You already…knew?!…” “I’m your declared archenemy. Of course, I knew!” he chuckles weakly and shrugs “…It wasn’t THAT hard, actually… Sugar meltdowns, always moving, flipping, jumping around, a magic crystal, living in an airship, this ridiculous hat… And come on, your Icelandic accent! You know, I don’t remember too much about my own birthplace, but there are some stories about your folk, I DO remember hearing from my mother!…” his smile drops a little, and he lowers his hand again. A long pause follows, during which neither of them moves a muscle. “…You’re not…staring at them…” murmurs the hero suddenly weakly. “Why should I?” Robbie blinks puzzled and smiles, lightly confused “I told you, I knew before…” “Yeah, but… At school, they told us…everybody would stare…” “Well, I don’t think, staring is very polite,” a nervous chuckle “…Besides… Right now, I’m busy staring into your eyes, am I not?!” He blushes. Sportacus blushes, as well, but more out of joy than embarrassment. He isn’t entirely sure what to make of this, but he feels a great tension falling off of him, of which existence he wasn’t even aware before. “…So… Since you knew… Why haven’t you ever told anybody or used this knowledge against me?…” more absently, he caresses Robbie’s cheek with his thumb, still without breaking their eye contact. “I’m a villain. But not cruel. I…sensed that you had your reasons not to tell anybody… Not even the brats. I…” now Robbie shifts a little uneasy “…What you said yesterday… About me… That I never really wanted you to leave or to get rid of you…was true, I guess… I…” he breaks up and swallows hard. Then he suddenly, gently pushes Sportacus’ hands off, puts his hat in one of them and turns his face away from him, his eyes squeezed shut. “…Robbie?…” puzzled, Sportacus quickly puts his hat on again, covering his slightly pointed ears with it, before he carefully brushes a few strains of hair out of the villain’s face and notices the tears, rolling down his cheeks “Robbie, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” The other opens one eye to look at him again “…Why are YOU crying, Sportacare?…” “Because I’m worried! And…confused and desperate…” Sportacus shrugs helplessly. “…Yeah… Me, too…” Robbie wipes his face and sniffs lowly “…See….When you’re the villain, you’re supposed to cause trouble and keep the hero busy…but not like THIS!…” a weak, strained laugh “You care for me more than anybody else ever did! And this feels so…incredibly wrong on one hand but…even more incredibly good on the other! I… I don’t know, what I’m supposed to DO!” The laugh turns into a sob and he buries his face into his hands. “…Nothing…” “H-Huh?…” “You don’t have to do ANYTHING, Robbie. Except of accepting my help and…following my suggestions at best, so you can become all healthy again,” the hero’s gentle smile is audible. “B-But…” “No. No buts,” Sportacus sits down sideways on the bed now and carefully grabs Robbie’s hands again, to pull them away from his face and squeeze them gently “All you REALLY have to do is trust me, Robbie. And…that shouldn’t be that hard, right? I mean…I trust YOU!” “…Really?…” “Of course! I have every reason to! Look, you’ve even kept my secret for all these years! Stop telling yourself, that you don’t deserve my care, trust and love! You do!” Sportacus is talking without really thinking about it before now “Not just because you’re no real villain, but because you’re an amazing person and there isn’t anybody else who makes me feel so happy when he’s smiling for once, not looking so sad and depressed anymore!” He breathes in. Just now, he notices Robbie’s stunned…or rather shocked expression. And then, it hits him what he just said and his face turns dark red “…Oh…”