#Because its a loss of control of his own body and a sort of powerlessness where Adamai’s descisions and ability to resist are taken from hi

[bluegumballmf]

Okay chat am i crazy for seeing this but like

Adamai getting possessed by anathar because of qilby kinda felt like him being groomed into being CSAed

[crispyjenkins]

B U I R, continuation of the last fic? Padawan Obi and master Dooku are freakin great. Would like to see more of jango being a disaster & a himbo for one (1) man

(my kid enabled me and i’ve been writing this between packing/moving the last week and i don’t know when i’ll be able to start something new (tonight? tomorrow? next week? lord knows), so i’m very sorry to the quinobi anon, yours is next, i promise!!

imagine that one Stiles/Malia cuddle that literally will not stop looping through my brain even though i haven’t watched teen wolf

warning for minor blood and injury, minor descriptions/implications of torture. takes place maybe three years after the last!) 

  It’s a little uncomfortable, trying to sleep against a wall while also trying to keep your sort-of-love-interest's headwound elevated on your own lap, and whatever remains of Obi-Wan’s internal clock protests to the surely late hour should they have been on Coruscant.

  Which they’re not, of course, because Obi-Wan has apparently run out of brownie points with the Force, and all his bad luck is catching up to him all at once: getting kidnapped by the Daan for ransom is one thing, getting his shuttle knocked clean out of the sky over Odos and barely managing to protect his fellow passengers in the crash is another entirely. A concussion and a Force-suppression collar later, Obi-Wan had been thrown in a clinically-plain but entirely-dark cell with a barely-conscious Mand'alor that he hasn't seen outside of holocomms since Concord Dawn.

  And some part of Obi-Wan is thankful for the excuse to see the real Jango again, not just the fuzzy holos that barely passed recognition and had to be viewed in private, but most of Obi-Wan is livid that this had only been made possible by the both of them getting snatched by the beginnings of a separatist alliance in the mid rim. 

  Livid that Jango has been here days longer than him, the passage of time marked in fist-shaped bruises and a bleeding lip — and Obi-Wan can't do anything about it, not cut off from the Force as he is.

  The single door on the other side of the durasteel bars slides open, spilling harsh white light into the room and sending a nauseating pulse of pain through Obi-Wan's head. The Rattataki nightsister that had dragged him out of the wreckage of the shuttle all but bounces up to the bars, smile cruel in its delight. Force, but she can't be more than twenty-four standard, and already she has two red 'sabers at her hips. 

  “Well, isn’t that sweet,” Ventress purrs, and Obi-Wan is far too tired to deal with her posturing. He elects to ignore her, letting his head sag into the corner all while giving Jango's wrist a harsh squeeze to surreptitiously wake him, careful to keep his free hand curled around the back of Jango's neck to let him know they're not in immediate danger, but to be wary. 

  The Mand'alor stirs, and he had been raised a soldier, he knows better than to give himself away immediately. Instead, he keeps his muscles slack even as he takes in the situation, the breathing of a third person in the room, the slow, steady brush of Obi-Wan's thumb over his pulse. 

  "You can ignore me all you like, Jedi," Ventress says, certainly sounding at ease in her upper hand. "When my master arrives, your tongue will quickly loosen."

  Obi-Wan simply grunts, glaring at her for all the good that will do. "I do hope he's not quite so young as yourself," he drawls, as Jango carefully shifts and tests his aches and pains. "You'll have to forgive me for finding it difficult to fear one younger than some padawans."

  Ventress hisses, one hand grabbing the bars to pull herself closer. "Not all can be so perfect as you, young Master Kenobi." Jango twitches against him, and Obi-Wan doesn't need the Force to feel his rage. "I do look forward to my master showing you what real power is."

  "Well, then I hope he arrives soon, before you manage to bore us to death."

  "Obi-Wan," Jango murmurs in warning, stupidly alerting Ventress to his wakefulness. 

  To his credit, Ventress doesn’t even look like she notices, lips curling back as she waves her hand and the barred door slams to the side. It’s a careless use of the Force, Obi-Wan thinks, which is a shame because she certainly isn’t lacking in skill, though perhaps this isn’t what he should be focussing on.

  Slinking into the cell followed quickly by two magnaguards from the hall, Ventress uses that skill to effortlessly grab Jango with the Force and drag him off of Obi-Wan, flinging him across the room into the arms of one of the magnaguards. The other shoves its electrostaff into Obi-Wan’s face to stop him from scrambling up to follow, Ventress leering over Obi-Wan with her fingers gliding over her ‘saber hilts.

  “My master warned me of your wayward words, Master Kenobi, you are foolish to think you can use your powers against me," she hisses.

  Maker, at least she's earnest. "I didn't think you'd be so quick to forget, darling," Obi-Wan says with a disarming smile, "that you've already made sure I have no powers to speak of."

  Over Ventress’ shoulder, Jango jerks in the droid’s arms with a desperately angry frown aimed right at Obi-Wan, and he’s probably right: Obi-Wan really should stop antagonising their captors. It’s difficult, though, when the bleary half-light through the open door frames the fresh split at the corner of Jango’s lip, that Obi-Wan is helpless to remedy.

  Ventress snarls at him and grabs the suppression collar underneath his chin, pulling just enough to make him grunt in pain as she forces his head up to look at her; Jango doesn’t make a sound, but yanks against the magnaguard’s grip with enough force that both he and the droid stumble. Ventress pays them absolutely no mind as she leans right into Obi-Wan’s face.

  “You will learn to fear us,” she whispers, sibilance bouncing around his mind like the spots that start to dance at the edges of his vision. “We have some more questions for his honor, but you get to sit here in the dark and reflect, perhaps you should meditate, Jedi, on the fate that awaits you at my master’s hands.”

  Obi-Wan has just enough leeway to suck in a breath, and uses it to murmur back, “I’m starting to wonder if you even have a master, with the way you hide behind his ‘power’.”

  With a ferocious snarl, Ventress yanks him clean off the floor and into the air by the collar, his surprised gasp cutting off into a wheeze as his head snaps back. Jango barks something at Ventess, though Obi-Wan can’t hear exactly what over the roar in his ears.

  He scrambles at Ventress' wrist in an attempt to pull himself up enough to just kriffing breathe, to take some of his weight off his neck, but it's been days since he's eaten, and his toes barely brush the floor, and Ventress knows exactly how to manipulate his body to make it hurt. Force, he can hear Jango's voice, low, dangerous, edged in panic, and he can't make out a single word. Instead, Obi-Wan curses his height that he normally doesn't mind, for the way someone at least five years his junior can hold him so powerless so easily. 

  And then after an eternity, after the world starts to grey and Obi-Wan almost feels like his neck will break, she drops him, oozing smugness as he crumples to the floor and barely manages not to smack his head against the durasteel; he lacks the strength to save his knees from the same fate. He chokes and coughs on the frigid, fake air, nearly retching at his lungs' attempt to suck in all his missing oxygen at once, and he's vaguely aware of Ventress saying something to him, probably gloating. He focuses on just keeping his head off the floor.

  Endlessly gentle hands brace his ribs and the back of his neck as they maneuver Obi-Wan up from his stomach to the closest wall, and Obi-Wan knows to trust these hands, that the hurried murmur cutting through the din is not Ventress, that he should probably listen to the owner of those hands. 

  Jango presses two fingers under Obi-Wan's jaw and checks his pulse, his holo-fuzzy face only coming into focus when the bars slam back into place and the door glides closed on the other side of the room. 

  "You with me, ner ca'tra?" Jango asks, tilting Obi-Wan's chin up until he nods. 

  Chest still jerking but forcing himself to calm, Obi-Wan looks around Jango's shoulder to the door, finding with relief that both Ventress and the magnaguards have left them in the dark once again. "Ar-Ar you alright?" he coughs, voice sounding as rough as it feels.

  Jango sighs sharply and drags his hand up to push Obi-Wan's loose hair back from his face. "Force preserve me from jetiise suicidal selflessness. I'm fine, kih'jetii, I'll pretend you asked because you've gone stupid from oxygen loss."

  Obi-Wan laughs, though it still sounds like a gasp, and lets the Mand'alor pull him gently into his shoulder. 

-

  "Padawan," Yan says softly, side stepping in front of the Neimoidian senator that had been talking his ear off for the past hour. Obi-Wan relaxes immediately as his master blocks out the rest of the room, the sounds and the light and the people, and he's never so thankful for Yan's height than he is when chill creeps over the back of his mind and digs its claws into his temples.

  It's easier now that he's older, he has more control, has a better understanding of the Unifying Force, and under Yan's tutelage, his shields certainly aren't lacking. Visions are rare, Obi-Wan mostly gets jabs and encouragement from the Force these days, and even in dreams, events are rarely clear enough to preemptively act upon. 

  But sometimes it's like this, ice starting just where his spine meets his skull, swiftly growing under bone and frosting over gray matter, crystalising his mental shields until they're brittle enough to shatter. He's been under Yan's care for more than half his life now, his master can feel a vision coming on almost before Obi-Wan does, and if it weren't for the crowded ballroom around them, Obi-Wan would sob in relief when his master gently settles two fingers on his temple and supports his mind from below. 

  Obi-Wan chases the flashes of colour and pictures, the vague senses of warmth and rain and contentment, before rock explodes and durasteel rends. Amorphous screams slam against the inside of his skull, and he leans harder into Yan's hand to combat it, to prop himself up until he can reach out and try and catch those will-o-the-wisps of answers, of hints of where or when these flashes will matter. 

  "Soon," he mumbles, feeling Yan move slowly and methodically over the cracks in his mind, patching them with care. "I don't... A terrorist attack, Master Yan, I don't—"

  "Easy, padawan," Yan soothes back and sets his free hand on the other side of Obi-Wan's face, like he used to before Obi-Wan had learned enough control. "The details matter not."

  He lets out a harsh breath. "The details matter not. The details... Desert. Refugees. Claw marks, master, and..." Obi-Wan frowns, pinching his brows together in confusion. "The... the stolen armour. From before."

  Yan rumbles unhappily. "Are you sure, Obi-Wan?"

  "I'm sure," he whispers. "I would know that armour anywhere."

Mand'alor —  “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore. ner ca'tra — “my night sky”, intimate term of endearment  jetiise —  “Jedi” pl., sing. jetii kih'jetii —  “Little Jedi”, usually offensive but the relationship between Mandalorians and Jedi are better in this ‘verse so

[meloncubedradpops]

Repo! the Corona Opera: Part Two Fascist Boogaloo

Greetings fellow Repo! fans,

Here is my second installment of a series of three essays where I compare our contemporary times with the movie Repo! the Genetic Opera. My first piece detailed the similarities between the two worlds, and turns out, I have an awful lot to talk about still. I ended my last article by posing the question, "What went wrong in this dystopia to normalize the concept of death due to nonpayment?" No doubt, this movie is incredibly outrageous on many fronts, particularly within the dynamics of the Largo family. As mentioned in the previous piece, I highlighted the pervasiveness of GeneCo's power and influence towards the citizens in the city (is it called city of GeneCo? GeneCo-land? GenCity? An actual city in Italy??). 

People who write stories often bend the rules to make their story compelling. Be it exaggerating social interactions, creating scientifically impossible scenarios, or even allowing the characters to use technology that does not exist yet. I admit the creators of Repo! applied all those tactics and more, which makes the parallels I draw that much more surreal. I want to acknowledge this before I dive deeper because yes, I truly think it would be impossible to have a company who can offer cheap and dirty surgeries with an absence of debilitating class action lawsuits resulting from botched procedures, infection, or their body rejecting the organ transplant. And while I admit Zydrate does not exist, yet, but we do have a long history with opioid abuse. If you asked me when I first watched the movie if I think the Largo family could be a mirror of an ultra wealthy family from real life, I would have politely disagreed with you. But times right now are freaking weird. A single day does not go by where something completely outlandish is blasted all over the news, particularly in the United States. 

In my last essay I pointed out examples where the citizens in GenCity live a life after experiencing a mass extinction event. Besides the technological anachronisms, society and GeneCo have an uncomfortably close relationship with each other. GeneCo is not merely a corporation that offers healthcare and surgeries, it has an unyielding power politically too. I argue that GenCity is ran by a fascist government that is controlled and operated by GeneCo. 

If you're not a person who is super familiar with fascism, basically it's an extremist right wing government philosophy. I find it interesting that in the song "21st Century Cure", Graverobber says: Industrialization has crippled the globe. Although plagues, war, and other hardships existed before industrialization, that paradigm of change accelerated the imbalances between man and nature. Fascism did not exist until after World War I, after all. Between the world war itself and the Spanish Flu of 1918, there was a lot of pain and suffering felt all over the world. Fascists took advantage of vulnerable populations and asserted that their political party is the only correct party, and those who oppose are considered an enemy. Historically fascist governments have blurred the lines between the spheres of what's considered "public" and "private", and often danced harmoniously with business allies in pursuit of profit. As an effect, fascist governments have required citizens to foot the bill of a private company's losses. With enough propaganda, fascist governments will have you believing that this is ultimately for the betterment of everyone. And if you give them enough time, they will normalize terrible acts against humanity that barely make a peep, if the truth even comes to light. 

For the rest of this essay, I will be highlighting examples in the Repo! movie that correspond with characteristics of fascism, using political scientist Dr. Lawrence Britt's The 14 Characteristics Of Fascism, which was published in the spring 2003 issue of Free Inquiry magazine.

The 14 characteristics are:

1. Powerful and Continuing Nationalism: Fascist regimes tend to make constant use of patriotic mottos, slogans, symbols, songs, and other paraphernalia. Flags are seen everywhere, as are flag symbols on clothing and in public displays. 

The world surrounding GeneCo occupies itself with the concept that this incorporated area derives a sense of nationalism, in the absence of much dissent. If you see below, there is an advertisement on the top right corner that says, "Your Birthplace for a new Heredity". GeneCo is not just a company that sells organs and surgeries. It is its own incorporated city. This ad, combined with GeneCo's relentless messaging that not only did this company save humanity, you must conform to the idea that only GeneCo can provide you the experience of feeling clean, safe, and perfect.

2. Disdain for the Recognition of Human Rights Because of fear of enemies and the need for security, the people in fascist regimes are persuaded that human rights can be ignored in certain cases because of "need." The people tend to look the other way or even approve of torture, summary executions, assassinations, long incarcerations of prisoners, etc.

Being able to legally repossess someone's organs because they didn't make their organ payments is about as disdainful as you can get. Nathan has a whole song called "Legal Assassin", and there doesn't appear to be many laws that would at least have the pretense that these repossessions are remotely humane. There are multiple instances in the movie where Nathan approaches a client who is already restrained, panicked, and powerless. From what I can gather from the media in Gencity, GeneCo proliferates the idea that the company would be dysfunctional if people could get financed surgeries and let those payments go to collections. When you're a mega corporation, they let you do it.

3. Identification of Enemies/Scapegoats as a Unifying Cause: The people are rallied into a unifying patriotic frenzy over the need to eliminate a perceived common threat or foe: racial , ethnic or religious minorities; liberals; communists; socialists, terrorists, etc.

While the career of a Graverobber is certainly creepy and macabre, the idea that they could be executed without a jury of their peers is especially strange. After I created my last essay, my friend Veronica pointed out, that per "A Needle Into A Bug", one of the deleted scenes from the movie, that street zydrate is not actually derived from the brains of dead people. He extracts zydrate from bugs that nest inside the craniums of dead people, which in my opinion is a huge distinction. So who is he really stealing from? Is it morally okay to dig up a corpse to get drug goo to sell to junkies? Absolutely not, and the idea is incredibly disrespectful for the dead. And while I am sure there are graverobbers in this world that likely steal things like jewelry from corpses, I still wouldn't justify being executed extrajudicially. 

Further, Graverobber's relationship with the Largo family has me believing even more that GeneCo needs them more than their media campaign can justify. Rotti has access to incredible surveillance of the city, so you would think he would eliminate anyone who enabled Amber Sweet's addiction. My theory is GeneCo knows that street zydrate may result in more surgery sales. However they want to continue making money selling the lab-grown stuff. So the end justifies the means, if we can associate graverobbers and those who use street zydrate as criminals, we can continue believing that "they" are the enemies setting everyone else back.

4. Supremacy of the Military: Even when there are widespread domestic problems, the military is given a disproportionate amount of government funding, and the domestic agenda is neglected. Soldiers and military service are glamorized. AND 12. Obsession with Crime and Punishment: Under fascist regimes, the police are given almost limitless power to enforce laws. The people are often willing to overlook police abuses and even forego civil liberties in the name of patriotism. There is often a national police force with virtually unlimited power in fascist nations.

GeneCo employs a private police force to carry out law enforcement. They patrol around a graveyard, a quasi-public space carved out for those who mourn. And because there is pervasive video surveillance, Rotti can demand that they do his bidding at any time. An example is his order to murder the repo man. We aren't aware of any sort of involvement beyond the borders of GenCity, but even the concept of a graveyard being a warzone is a special kind of hell. 

5. Rampant Sexism- The governments of fascist nations tend to be almost exclusively male-dominated. Under fascist regimes, traditional gender roles are made more rigid. Opposition to abortion is high, as is homophobia and anti-gay legislation and national policy.

Genterns! On the surface, it’s pretty cool that there is a large volume of female medical professionals who are skilled enough to carry out surgeries. However behind the sexy veneer is the reality that Genterns are not set up for success. They are not provided adequate PPE and work under non-sterile conditions. In the "Mark it Up" scene, one is killed by Luigi. Imagine going to medical school for years and years, only to be tasked with the job of organ warehouse worker. Then on one of your shifts you are stabbed to death because the CEO's son bumped into you while you were working. Not only that, but you are also expected to dress proactively for the purpose of selling the GeneCo product and experience.  

6. Controlled Mass Media: Sometimes to media is directly controlled by the government, but in other cases, the media is indirectly controlled by government regulation, or sympathetic media spokespeople and executives. Censorship, especially in war time, is very common. GeneCo has a monopoly on the media of the city. Politics, entertainment, healthcare, you name it, they have a direct stake in, and control over, the media. We do see from time-to-time tabloid clippings of the Largo family. But generally speaking, GeneCo puts a lot of effort in upholding their image. The best evidence is Blind Mag's story. She is a singer who acquired the ability to see after a GeneCo cornea surgery. And while she clocked into work day in and day out, singing and advertising for GeneCo for 17+ years, her departure resulted in Rotti murdering her. But why? Was he afraid of the things she would say? Rotti knew he was terminally ill when she declared her resignation, and yet killing her on stage is somehow less of a scandal?

7. Obsession with National Security: Fear is used as a motivational tool by the government over the masses. Fascist countries use fear as a tactic to keep the masses scared and compliant. The universe of Repo! is one filled with tragedy. Millions of people have died. I would imagine that the series of events that would lead to the creation and success of GeneCo was contingent upon people being scared for their lives. While dealing with the coronavirus, I find myself constantly checking my temperature, keeping my distance from people, and wearing a mask out in public. The human spirit is resilient, which is how we have survived so long. However sociopaths smell our fear and use it against us. The city of GeneCo is surrounded by plots upon plots of graveyards, signifying the carnage left after their public health crisis. I have a strong feeling that GeneCo was able to harness the threat of whatever caused the massive organ failure epidemic and as an effect created a power vacuum. 

8. Religion and Government are Intertwined: Governments in fascist nations tend to use the most common religion in the nation as a tool to manipulate public opinion. Religious rhetoric and terminology is common from government leaders, even when the major tenets of the religion are diametrically opposed to the government's policies or actions.

This one is going to be a reach, particularly because there is an absence of religion in this story. I don't think religion would be on the creator's of Repo!'s purview, and honestly I don't blame them. If you look at the imagery of the story, however, it is very gothic. We have no idea if religion survives, and if it does, to what extent. I would imagine that people still have spiritual needs, and I argue that the GeneCo Opera is an example of how they get that fulfilled. 

"If you want it, baby, GeneCo's got it"

The GeneCo opera is not your typical opera experience. GeneCo specifically tells their customers to "testify". People are singing in unison, praising GeneCo. Clearly GeneCo has taken several human rituals and blended them together to create an over-the-top entertainment experience that seeks to advertise their company behind the testimonials of its patrons. The benefits of the opera for GeneCo, as a fascist entity, are two-fold: have people associate their most nirvana moments with an experience only GeneCo can offer (zydrate and surgery), and distract them with religious-like concerts so they won't question their neighbors being murdered on the streets by that very same company. 

9. Corporate Power is Protected: The industrial and business aristocracy of a fascist nation often are the ones who put the government leaders into power, creating a mutually beneficial business/government relationship and power elite. AND 13. Rampant Cronyism and Corruption: Fascist regimes almost always are governed by groups of friends and associates who appoint each other to government positions and use governmental power and authority to protect their friends from accountability. It is not uncommon in fascist regimes for national resources and even treasures to be appropriated or even outright stolen by government leaders.

Throughout the entire movie, the Largo family is front and center. We know Rotti is terminally ill, and he utilizes his final moments to tie up loose ends in his life. His children feel entitled to his estate and the company of GeneCo. At no point do we see Rotti consult with a board of directors at GeneCo, a private fiduciary firm, or with any government entity. I would describe the company of GeneCo to be a weird combination of an aristocracy, government body, and corporation. His children commit crimes with no recourse or justice. Rotti kills the doctor who tells him he's dying. Luigi kills multiple people throughout the movie. In one of the opening scenes, we see a photograph showing Pavi is cutting off a woman's face. In the credits we see Amber's body guards lying dead on the floor during her press statement. What sort of corruption took place to make these occurrences so prevalent and normalized? 

10. Labor Power is Suppressed: Because the organizing power of labor is the only real threat to a fascist government, labor unions are either eliminated entirely, or are severely suppressed.

We aren't super privy to the machinations that make this city functional. But there is a clear stratification that has sustained itself long enough that healthcare is not a right in this city, and those who can't pay for necessary healthcare can finance it. In a just society, if we have the means to save humanity, we can figure out a way to pay for it. Be it taxes on the most wealthy or other cost-saving measures, if there is a will, there is a way. However if you give a company enough power and money, it will do everything it can to stay on top. The best examples I can think of would be Nathan and Blind Mag's tenuous career at GeneCo. Neither really wanted the job they were given, but they were forced into those positions by Rotti. Had Bling Mag belonged to a entertainment union, would she have had more protections? Would a proper investigation into the murder of Marni result in justice being served, and the opportunity for Nathan to live a better adjusted life? Rotti masterfully manipulates situations that create powerless outcomes for his employees.

11. Disdain for Intellectuals: Fascist nations tend to promote and tolerate open hostility to higher education, and academia. It is not uncommon for professors and other academics to be censored or even arrested. Free expression in the arts is openly attacked, and governments often refuse to fund the arts We don't see any particular evidence that GeneCo is currently hostile to higher education or academia. What we do know is the technologies of this world are akin to something we'd see out of the 20th century. However GeneCo is advanced enough to synthesize usable organs.  In my last essay, I drew parallels to today by highlighting that there may have been a "brain drain" of intellectualism as a result of academics dying from their public health crisis. Outside of the opera house, we don't see many examples of art in this world. Maybe this is what happens when a government stops funding programs it deems frivolous or challenges the status quo?

14. Fraudulent Elections: Sometimes elections in fascist nations are a complete sham. Other times elections are manipulated by smear campaigns against or even assassination of opposition candidates, use of legislation to control voting numbers or political district boundaries, and manipulation of the media. Fascist nations also typically use their judiciaries to manipulate or control elections.

Based off context clues in the movie, we know that there is a group of voting citizens who help determine whether or not a company can repossess financed organs that are passed due on their payments. We don't know who makes these votes, the election process, or anything like that. So it is hard to say if GeneCo goes beyond their media campaign convincing voters to keep repossessions legal. Despite this lack of knowledge, I would argue that GeneCo wields incredible power regarding the course of elections for laws that apply to them. Okay, you want to pass a law to make organ repossession illegal? Fine, we don't have to offer products on a payment plan. The very threat of being able to take away healthcare is something right wing governments loveeee doing. 

Speaking of elections, the United States 2020 general election is approaching. Now that I argued the ways that GeneCo is fascist, I will tie together ideas from both of these essays into a final piece that I hope you will like. If you enjoyed this article, please send it to all your Repo! friends.

[junpito]

A Beginning

I’ve been thinking about starting a fic surrounding what might have happened if Mahito had realised that killing Junpei wouldn’t have worked. This part works within canon, but I intend it to be the opening to something longer.

It’s basically just a brief character study, exploring how they learned a little more about one another, set just before episode 10.

No content warnings besides what already applies to canon. AO3 link here.

The rope creaks a little against the gentle rocking of the hammock. The sound echoes down the tunnels, accompanied only by the soft sounds of running water. It’s quiet down here, peaceful. Like a private bubble, a whole other world separate from the loud, aggressive, ugly world above.

Junpei’s eyelids feel heavy. Between the soothing sounds, the rhythmic motion, and the delicate threading of long fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, he felt wonderfully at peace, teetering dangerously close to falling asleep. His head is pillowed on a well-muscled chest, and he can’t help but find himself listening for a heartbeat. Mahito isn’t human, he knows that, and he has no idea if curses have internal organs, if they need working innards to be functional like humans do. Maybe the reason he can’t pick one out is because underneath his skin, Mahito runs on nothing but energy and raw human emotion. He told Junpei that that was what birthed him: the collection and manifestation of all of humanity’s hatred and fear and anger for one another, a conglomeration of all the negative feelings humans hold towards each other.

It feels almost dangerously on-the-nose that Junpei should have found him. After all, Junpei never feels as alive and real as he does when he’s staring into the eyes of his bullies, his every nerve alight with the desire to hurt them. When he’s not angry he feels like he’s floating, untethered. Maybe that’s why he likes movies so much, because through them he can experience artificial emotion, he can explore the fantasies that would otherwise remain behind locked doors for good. He understands, he thinks, what it must be like for that anger, that spark of hatred to be the sole reason for one’s existence. Him and Mahito are two of a kind, in that way.

Then again, this feels pretty real. Short fingernails scritch gently at the nape of his neck and he shivers a little, unable to hold in the prickle of pleasure down his spine. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever done this to him before, at least not since he was a child, and it feels amazing. He would quite happily die here, in this curse’s arms.

“Mahito…” He murmurs, his voice heavy with sleep. Mahito hums a quiet query, his own mismatched eyes closed too, though Junpei is pretty sure he doesn’t sleep. “Do you have a heartbeat?”

His eyes open then, filled with mirth, and he laughs. “How should I know? I’ve never cut myself open.”

Junpei props himself up on his elbows on Mahito’s chest, regrettably disrupting his slow petting. “How old are you?”

Mahito’s eyes flick up to the ceiling, and he thinks. “Hm… I don’t really know. I know parts of me existed before I formed consciousness, but… I’ve been me for a good few months now, I think.”

“Months? That’s it?” Junpei’s eyes widen. Mahito definitely looked older than him, though he didn’t behave like most of the adults in Junpei’s life. Then again, he could control his appearance. Junpei wondered to what extent he could really do that, and chasing that thought was another, much more dangerous one: what if he could change my body? What if he could give me the body I want without driving me crazy?

He put a stopper in that one, at least for the time being.

Mahito laughs again. “You expected longer, right? Like I’m… some kind of immortal spirit that’s always been floating around this world, as old as humanity itself, hm?”

“Well… You told me you were made of humanity’s feelings of hatred towards each other, right? Haven’t humans hated each other forever?” Junpei couldn’t imagine ancient humans had been any better than they were now.

“I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last.” Mahito’s smile relaxes into something softer, darker. He tucks Junpei’s fringe back behind his ear delicately, uncovering his scarred, ugly forehead. Junpei blushes in embarrassment and looks away. “And it’s not just hatred, you know. Humans feel all sorts of ways towards one another that create cursed energy. Humans are disgusting, vile creatures.”

“Do you think I’m disgusting?” Junpei asks quietly, suddenly self-conscious, and Mahito chuckles, a slow rumble from the back of his throat.

“Did I ever say that was a bad thing? Without people like you, I wouldn’t exist, would I?” He reaches forward and pulls Junpei against him, strong arms like a cage holding him in place. “Junpei…” Those fingers are threading through his hair again, his voice a soft cooing. “You’re justified, you know that, right?”

Junpei pauses at that, his fingers curling in the fabric of Mahito’s shawl.

“Those people I killed were empty. They had no flavour at all.”

“…Flavour?” Junpei asks hesitantly.

“They didn’t hate you. They barely even considered you.”

Junpei frowns, a familiar anger bubbling in his gut. “But they wanted to make me hurt…”

“That’s the fun part, isn’t it?” Mahito’s voice is laced with giddy excitement. “Some humans cause pain just because they can, because it’s fun to them. It makes me feel almost human, myself.”

Junpei swallows. “You like hurting people for fun?”

“Hm… Sort of.” Mahito tilts his head to one side. “I like picking fights. I like it when fights are a challenge. Small fry like those trash in the cinema aren’t much fun at all. That was more… taking out the garbage, you know?”

“Oh.” Junpei relaxes a little. Then he frowns again. “I think I’m different to you in that way.”

Mahito’s eyes drift down to him, alight with curious amusement. “Oh?”

Junpei’s jaw clenches for a moment, he sits on the secret he’s been holding in for years, that he thought he’d never be able to share with anyone. But then, no one else he knew was a literal murderer. “I think I want to hurt them.” Saying it feels like throwing an ex’s engagement ring in a lake. He immediately feels lighter, and yet at the same time, at a loss.

“Oh?” Mahito repeats, and Junpei can practically feel his excitement. His grip tightens.

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s better if… I can just turn away. Ignore them. But they don’t ignore me, so… why should I?” Sometimes, Junpei thinks his rage is like one of those underground rivers. On the surface it flows, but it seems calm, little more than a fast-flowing stream. You don’t know just how deep, winding, and violent it is until you’re already submerged in it. Then he remembers that he’s small and weak and powerless, and that his rage is a useless emotion.

His jaw unclenches, and his shoulders relax. His voice settles into its usual quiet, almost despondent tone. “I wish I could ignore them.”

Mahito is quiet for a moment, two, three. He taps Junpei’s spine gently. “Get down. There’s something I want to show you.”

Junpei clumsily clambers out of the hammock, the impact as he meets the concrete floor jarring his ankles. Mahito follows, much more delicately. He fumbles in his pockets, and Junpei watches the water in the channel flow. Dirty rainwater, carrying away the filth of the streets. His thoughts wander, remembering an old saying, one he’d thought about before.

“Here. Hold this.” Mahito holds something out to him, and Junpei takes it, turning it over in his hand. It looks… ugly, whatever it is. Small and shrivelled, a texture that reminds him of beef jerky. It looks like it’s got some kind of hollow face carved into it. He looks up to ask Mahito what it is, but Mahito is already walking away. He follows, and Mahito glances back at him.

“Tell me more about yourself, won’t you?”

“…Yeah.” Junpei murmurs, and for the first time in his life, he begins to speak his mind.

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[ymiwritesstuff]

Controlled Death

Ok so, I thought this idea was good, but I’m not sure if the finished product is as well made as I thought it would be oof. I still hope you enjoy.

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 3: Stardust Crusaders

Dio Brando x Reader

Summary: Even when one is able to control where human souls go after death, it’s still one of the most painful abilities there is. And you if anyone knows it.

Notes: Angst, Spoilers for Part 3, Character death

The uncertainty about what happens to one after they die has been the topic of many conversations for centuries. Some believed in some sort of afterlife where the human soul would wander after death, others believed in the bizarre concept of reincarnation. Death was a difficult subject often associated with sorrow and grief. Yet despite these downright horrible aspects of death, no human could ever control where they would end up in after taking their last breath thus making the unknown abyss of posthumous life frightening and grim. No one knew where the soul would go, nor could they throw the most horrible human beings into the depths of Hell as it wasn’t for them to decide.

However when it came to these quite well-known rules of death, there was one exception. And this exception came in the form of your stand. Having the ability to send souls into a dimension that was comparable to Hell itself was.. Terrifying. The dimension was unknown even to you as you had no idea where the unlucky souls ended up in. You could only assume it was a realm without peace, filled with flames of terror and screams of those whom they were painfully burning. The soul would be tortured and tormented for all eternity, as once your stand opened the portal to inferno, there was no escape.

You had always wondered why had you been blessed -or rather, cursed- with such a gruesome ability. The sheer uneasiness and fear you held towards your own ability was enough to make you avoid using its power almost entirely. The only few times you had actually utilized it almost immediately made you regret doing so in the first place. Every time you used its power, you could practically feel your victim’s suffering. No one deserved that. Your stand was a tool meant to be used for utter destruction, only serving as a bridge between this world and the one of death. Needless to say, you never wanted to use your stand again.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your (E/C) filled with tears as you look at the man before you. Dio was panting, his legs bent and bloody, making him unable to stand up properly. The battle was nearing its end, Dio would soon be defeated and it would all be over. No more suffering, no more bloody battles or fear. It would be over as soon as Dio was no longer roaming this world. But in order to achieve victory, you knew what had to be done.

Your expression holds so much pain that it’s almost physically hurting you, your tears feeling like acid on your eyes. Dio’s amber eyes are locked on you, similar pain apparent in them. Your trembling body is barely able to hold you up, your (H/C) hair is a mess and your quiet sobs fill the painful silence surrounding you.

You hated this. You hated it all. Deep down you knew this was the only way to put an end to Dio and you had to convince yourself that he deserved this. He was a monster, a killer, there was no humanity left in him and if anyone deserved to suffer in the depths of the horrible dimension, it was him. But even thinking about sending his soul to utter chaos was painfully stabbing your heart, spreading its poison across your body. It would be over in mere seconds, yet you were sure the simple action would haunt you for the rest of your life, clinging to your soul like a vicious parasite.

No being deserved such a fate. Not even him. It felt as though you had been driven to a corner, unable to get out. The dreadful thoughts were engulfing you, planting themselves within you and all you could do was to endure it. Endure it all and put an end to the man in front of you.

“Do it.” Dio’s voice causes you to finally look at him. His legs are now completely healed and a part of you wishes he would get up and continue fighting so you would get out of this situation. But he doesn’t. Dio remains still, waiting for you to act. The sight of him only increases the amount of bitter tears spilling from your eyes. This wasn’t right. Dio, the most powerful being you had ever encountered, was kneeling down before you, powerless against your stand and waiting for you to put an end to him. His previous confidence was gone, reduced to dust. So this was how it would end? His beloved sending his soul to a realm with no escape, something he had been dreading from the very moment you revealed your stand’s ability.

You desperately try to look for an escape route. You couldn’t let it end like this. There had to be another way. Another way to end the suffering. The attempt to look for a different solution is proven futile when you look at Dio, your eyes pleading him to escape, continue fighting, anything but you’re met with a gaze that’s given up all hope. It feels as if everything around you crumbles into dust, the feeling of devastation and guilt hitting you like a boulder. There was no escape. This was the end.

Your stand materializes beside you, your tears falling to the ground and your trembling hand raises to the air as you prepare to end yet another person’s life. This time however, you feel like you’re being dragged down with him. The ground below Dio disappears, being replaced by a void of nothingness. Demon-like hands shoot out of the portal, harshly grabbing the vampire and ripping his soul from his body in a brutal manner, the sight making your heart break into a million, irreparable pieces. You close your eyes, unable to witness the horror. 

Dio doesn’t say anything, despite the excruciating pain. The only pain he truly feels is the sight of you, crying, trembling and so, utterly defeated. He never wanted to see you like this and in this moment feels responsible for your state. He was the reason you were in pain, forced to kill him in such a gruesome way. But Dio accepted it. He wasn’t afraid to die. He never had been. However he can’t stand to see you like this. He knew this cruel fate was going to get him eventually, but why did it have to be like this?

When Dio’s soul is finally detached from his now empty, lifeless body, the hands begin to drag him below the ground, where the dimension of death lies. For a moment it’s peaceful. Just you and him in this world. Together, just like it had always been. For the final time, you look at the man you love as his soul descends further to the ground below. With a quiet, fragile voice, you express your painful regret, secretly hoping it would all end:

“I’m.. I-I’m sorry..”

And then it’s all over. You hear nothing, just your distant heartbeat in your chest. Alone. You’re all alone. You glance at his lifeless body and fall to your knees, cruel cries of sorrow leaving your mouth. Dio was no more, it was all over. Everything was fine again. You fall to the hard ground below, your heart filled with regret and grief. The sobs you let out fill the air around you as you mourn the loss of your one and only. A loss, which you caused.

“D-Dio..”

Humans wished to control death. To send the worst beings to the worst place possible. However, death could never be controlled. Because even when it was, it was still nothing but a cruel curse. A curse which would always live within you, reminding you of the day you killed the man you loved.

[kai-borg]

"Evil? Do I consider myself such? No, no. Tell me, do you call the rahi evil for the death they bring? The beings they consume? No, because it is their nature to do such. It is the same with me, despite my... form I am not one of you, but at the same time I am. I have my own nature, one different from yours. Perhaps it may seem cruel to those also with sentience but to me it is beauty, art, something I must complete. Now then, enough talk! I can already see the beautiful masterpiece you'll make.~"

-Cryptid to an (idiotic) matoran reporter that had managed to track him down for a review. Said matoran was later found dead, turned into another of Crypid's pieces of 'art', the recording was luckily left intact. 

=============

Cryptid came into being from the first and last test of a matorans attempted recreation of the mask of creation in metru-nui, despite having only vague knowledge of its powers and creation.

Perhaps if the Matoran’d had a better understanding Cryptid may have never come into creation.

The Matoran had believed the mask to have the ability to build anything the user thought of as long as there were near enough materials, even if they weren't visible. Who knows, maybe they were correct and they just weren't strong enough to control it, perhaps they built the mask wrong. But until it is truly discovered what Artahkas mask can do, it will never be known, and either way it is much too late to fix that Matoran's mistake.

During the first, and soon after last, test of the masks abilities the Matoran had been visiting a damaged parts dump, attempted to create something small, a tool or perhaps just a small figurine, whatever it was they chose the mask chose differently. Unleashing a burst of creation-based energy, utterly draining the mask before becoming trapped within the ensuing energy storm. It was quickly ripped from the matorans face, becoming the epicentre of the storm, before beginning to form a body around itself, a twisted and broken form, and once the storm was finished, and the being dropped to the ground, it was soon recognized as a form that exuded danger when it's eyes of dark red, and dripping with an ichor like liquid turned to stare at the matoran, a twisted smile, that would stay for the eons and more of its existence, soon grown across its face.

That matoran became the first of many of Cryptid's pieces of ‘art’ as he calls them.

Not too long after the time of his creation, perhaps a year or two, he was attacked by a horde of Vahki who had finally managed to track him down from his discovered ‘art’ pieces. During the end of chase he ended up having his back injured before he fell off a large cliff, ending up on his back somewhere in the depths of Metru-Nui's outskirts, bresulting in it fully breaking. His Vahki pursuers, believing him to be dead and if not, at least removed from Metru-Nui, returned to the inner-cities, leaving Cryptid to slowly heal until he could move enough to be able to design a crude back harness.

He later replaced it with a much better and more high tech one,designed to inject certain chemicals and such to even better increase its benefits. He returned to the city, stealing a ship and leaving to find a new island to create ‘art on, of course he didn't leave before creating a few more pieces of his 'art' around the island.

His second major injury occured at a much later date, resulting in the loss of his right arm.

During a fight with one of his more powerful opponents, during his more inexperienced years, he ended up losing his right arm before he could end his oppoenents life. His opponent was a Toa of some sorts, somehow managing to set off an explosion near Cryptid after suffering a fatal injury, ripping Cryptids arm off, embedding the metal into his shoulder that he built the prosthetic into, and ending his own life.

His flesh later healed over it to enough to make it much more difficult to remove for anybody, Cryptid included.

Species: Artificial mask construct/bionicle

Gender: Male

Age: …. Yeah, I still have no clue how to figure this out when it comes to bionicle's! XD

Personality: While Cryptid is a ‘normal’ bionicle he is, in part, a sentient, and long powerless, mask and it’s shown throughout his personality, from his twisted love of creating, despite his lack of power, ‘art’, ranging from just simple, if but disturbing, statues and carvings to his preferred more ‘organic’ pieces, be they created from ‘gathered resources’ or his own, to his love of ‘artful’ dancing and posing, even despite the disturbing quality both usually retained they, along with his other art, manage to capture a sense of awe and disturbing ‘beauty’ in their designs

He's manic, gleeful at best and downright crazed at worst.He enjoys making his ‘art’, and has a tendency to burst into song, especially whilst doing so. All of which tend to scare others, or at least make them extremely nervous for fear of their lives. He's not exactly evil but he doesn't feel the same way as others, and doesn't see what he does as evil. While he has realized that most others have a different view than him, he really doesn't care, they're not him, and so what if the majority of sentient beings have differing opinions to his, why should he care? They don't control him.

Fighting style: In truth he fights with basically anything he can get his hands on, be that from stealing an opponents weapon to useing random objects scattered across the ground.

if he has nothing at hand he'll just use his own claws, strength, and flexibility, all skills that have taken down many an opponent.

Abilities and powers: Due to his 'accidental' creation, and what his body was created from, some parts of himself do not work properly, such as his nervous system. 

Oh sure, it works enough for him to be able to move properly and all that but he can't feel anything, only highly dulled versions of whatever sensation he should be feeling, and pain is even more so. It allows for him to push his body to limits he never should’ve been able to reach, and to personally ‘modify’ his body and indulge in certain ‘habits’ of his at any given time.

His own body's healing ability is a very useful factor in all of this too, while it is only slightly faster than most without some healing item/mask it allows for his body to adaptively heal, continued injury forcing his body to heal in ways to attempt to avoid said injuries and due to his ‘habits’ he has greatly adapted his body to better work with him. He has managed to force nearly all of his joints, from neck to knee to rotate and turn at any ‘realistic’ angle (directions it could already move, back, forward, side-to-side, etc). Allowing for him to create even more disturbing poses, dances and movements.

But as a counter to these benefits his body suffers multiple problems from its uncontrolled creation. The two biggest problems he suffers, and has created solutions for, are certain restrictions to his healing ability and a very dangerous internal one.

If his body takes a large enough amount of damage, focused on one area, he can not fully heal it, as shown with his back.

While he can remove the harness, and move without itm he will be greatly weakened while it is removed, being forced to slow down and be more careful with his movements to keep from aggravating his injuries. He can only keep it removed for a finite amount of time before his back starts to give out again.

As for his internals, once again due to his unnatural creation, a very important internal function of his body doesn't fully work, I.e. His internal blood/protodermis flow, luckily (for him) he managed to discover and fix it in time, installing a tubing system to artificially pump his blood/protodermis throughout him. The tubes are easily his biggest weakness, while he can survive for about a week with minimally increasing detrimental effects it is still highly dangerous to do such. The tubes and mechanics themselves are difficult to replace and he is highly protective of the tubes, going out of his way to keep them from being damaged.

=============

So yeah, any of you guys ever just build something to vent some stress, not planning to really make anything, just sticking stuff together and somehow you actually make something? Yeah that's how Cryptid was made.

I mean I did have plans at that point to use his torso for a while, which I actually found partially built in a box of random parts I bought, well only the torso bit which had the chest armour, tube (without the black piece and angled technic bars), black claw and a slightly different neck connection but with the same head, but never got around to it until now and I definitely didn't plan on this! But I gotta say I do like him.

In fact, I will truthfully state Cryptid is quite literally one of my top favourite MOC’s. 

No idea why, he just seems to click in a way that I just can’t help but like him for some reason

[hope-and-soap]

“Cover it up”: Ragnarok and the scars of history (2/2)

Find part 1 here

“It is I! Your saviour!”

So: hands up, those of us who were shocked/thrilled/horrifically excited etc when we were first presented with the prospect of seeing Loki on Asgard’s throne.

And now: hands up, those of us who were expecting what he actually did with it.

Loki’s a difficult character to deal with, largely because his motivations seem to be all over the place. In The Avengers he wants world domination and to not be killed by Thanos. In The Dark World he wants revenge for his mother and, in some small way, to get on a little better with Thor. These things, they don’t really line up, do they? And that leaves us, after all these films, still asking that question: what does Loki want?

When Loki took over Asgard, he didn’t take its armies on a campaign of conquest through the galaxy. He didn’t hunt down his enemies or murder his brother or invade Earth. He sat on a sofa and ate grapes and commissioned art in honour of himself – in honour of Loki, hero of Asgard, beloved of his father, forgiven of his crimes. Loki took over his country and then he took what he wanted: the love of Asgard’s people, his place in its history. Given the chance to have anything he wanted, this is what he chose. To be loved. To be accepted. To be remembered as one of them.

This, then, is what Loki wants: to be a hero of Asgard, rather than an outcast from it. To be someone they accept, not out of force, but out of love. This is, really, what he’s wanted ever since his first appearance – his villainous turn in Thor, after all, began as an attempt to win his father’s approval, and a large part of his snarling bitterness at his country and his family comes from the trauma of realising that neither is really his. Loki is haunted by the feeling of being other; what he wants, more than anything, is to be rid of that feeling.  

Read in this light, the appearance of the little blue kid at the end of The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard goes from being just a cute joke to something more significant: a reminder of where Loki comes from, and who he is. Not just an outsider, or an immigrant, but a hostage from a conquered race. If Hela represents the dark, violent imperialism of Asgard’s past, Loki represents the continuing reality of this imperialism in Asgard’s present. The Jotun were not victims of Hela’s violence, but they were victims of an impulse nearly identical to the one which Hela embodies – the impulse to fight, to conquer, to rule.

When I was sixteen I wanted to move to London. I wanted to write for the BBC; I wanted to be the next Steven Moffat. These are all reasonable dreams, when you are sixteen and a Doctor Who fan; to be honest, I still want to be Steven Moffat. But when I was sixteen I wanted more than that – I wanted to move to London and become British, to prove that I spoke English as well as any Englishwoman, to take the accent and the airs and dye my hair and change my passport and get an OBE from the Queen and forget where I came from and have everyone forget about that, too. To be a Singaporean who made good. To go to the people who’d conquered my people and make my place there, as one as good as them, as one of them.

I got older. I got better. I go to university in England now. Now and then I catch myself speaking with my accent from home and I rub it out before anyone else notices. I take the odd slang term and I hide it away. I work hard because I love my degree and I respect my tutors and I never learned how to not work hard when it comes to academia, and I work hard because one day I’m going to get a first and beat all my white brit friends and I’ll prove that I’m as good as them even though I’m Chinese. It kills me that there are cultural jokes my friends share with each other that I will never understand. It kills me that there is a form of humour over there that I was not raised to appreciate. I go to university in England now and I love that land and I love this land, here, where I came from, but it’s hard being home in two places, it’s hard being made in one and living in another, and sometimes that kills me too.

The place where I live during term time has been standing for a thousand years and it has a library with every book in the world in it and it is a beautiful city full of beautiful people who speak the language I love perfectly, it is a place of poetry, and home is a city full of squat practical buildings built in the last fifty years and advertisements on buses which have grammatical errors in and every now and then I think to myself if I had to pick one, if I had to pick one…

I am older, now. I am better. I tell myself I love my country. I tell myself I do not need to prove myself to anyone, especially not because they’re white, especially not because they would have been my masters, in another life. I am aggressively Singaporean now, aggressively Chinese, aggressively myself. I am no longer sixteen. Sometimes I catch myself wishing I had been born English. The very idea disgusts me. It’s still true.

When Loki takes over Asgard, he turns himself into Odin to do it. And if you’re anything like me, you thought that would’ve lasted for about as long as it would’ve taken him to quash all dissent, exile the strong and the loyal, and reveal his true self to the quivering, subjugated masses left with no other option than to submit to him. But here he is, years later, and he’s still Odin. He would, it seems, be happy to stay Odin for the rest of his life. Loki, remember, wants to rule, but more than that he wants to be loved. And if he can’t have both as himself, he’s willing to become a person who can. Odin, the symbol of every Asgardian ideal, the man who crushed Loki’s people, the man whose approval he was willing to destroy a world for – why wouldn’t he want to be him? Why wouldn’t he want to stay that way?

The tragedy of Loki of Asgard is this: that he becomes his own oppressor, just like I have become mine. We are the ones who set standards that we are never going to reach. We are the ones who are ashamed of where we come from, who we were, who we are now. We are the ones who look at a race of people we secretly resent and tell ourselves they are superior, that we will never be anything unless we can gain their approval, be like them, be them; we are the ones who will destroy ourselves trying. This is, you see, our own fault. Our own fault. We do this to ourselves.  

It’s no surprise, then, that Loki looks a lot like Hela – Hela, the conqueror, the colonialist, creator of empires. They are both tall, thin, pale-skinned; dark-eyed, dark-haired. Both wear horns. Their hairstyles are even similar, and their colour schemes – black and green, almost the same shade. The similarities don’t end there; both share a love of conquest, a desire for power, even certain turns of phrase – in ordering her brothers to kneel, after all, Hela is clearly stealing Loki’s line.

Loki is not just the victim of a history of violence and oppression. He is the inheritor of that history. He’s internalised it, let it take him over; let it dictate who he wants to be and who he is becoming – a creature of conquest, the embodiment of the very thing that did him damage. He becomes both his own oppressor and a symbol of his own oppression – both the victim and the villain of his own story. He takes on both sides of that history. He is scarred by both.

It is Loki, of all of Odin’s children, who has the best claim to Asgard’s history.

Which is, of course, why he gets to be the one to burn it all down.

“Get up. You’re in my seat.”

I just want to say two things about Thor.

The first is this: that Marvel’s filmmakers have finally found, in Thor’s arc in Ragnarok, the one storyline for which the protagonist needs to be a white man. Because Thor is the ultimate child of privilege – raised as royalty, heir to a throne, physically indestructible, with Aryan looks and a traditionally masculine personality. He is, both in-universe and out of it, the white-masculine ideal – the man’s man who oozes physical strength and (hetero)sexual appeal, a man with rank and status and money, handed power and authority on a silver platter. Thor is the one person who never had to fear all the things that Hela represents, because he is not the sort of person she conquers – he is the sort of person she conquers for.

And in this film, he comes to understand what it’s like being on the other side of that picture. This is not, of course, to say that Thor has never suffered before, or that he has never before been capable of compassion for those who are suffering – but he has never, till this point, been the victim of this particular form of violence. Before, he had always been a person with unquestioned agency, the hero of his own story, sometimes hurt but never at another’s mercy. He has been beaten; he has never been exploited. Until now.

In Ragnarok, Thor is enslaved, subjugated, kept in line by thinly-disguised torture. He has his throne stolen from him, his legitimacy questioned. He is used, abused, imprisoned not because he is recognised – as SHIELD recognised him in his first film – as a threat, but because he is property that must be kept in its proper place. He sees his people attacked. He loses his hammer and his agency and his hair – a loss which, though played for laughs, represents the violation of a body that has to this point been presented as absolutely inviolate and inviolable.

In this film, Thor goes from being a child of privilege to being a slave, a member of a victimised community, a sexualised object, a person without bodily autonomy. And because of this, he finally understands what it is to be these things. To be the victim of a system of power over which you have no control. To be the victim of violence which you are unable to fight. To be beaten and pressed down and thumbed under. To be powerless.

This is, ultimately, what makes his defeat of Hela powerful, and meaningful, and possible. Because Thor, as he was before, would never have been able to fight a system of oppression – he would barely have been able to comprehend it. Thor, the Mighty Thor, has no power in a world like this. We do not need mighty invincible champions who reach down from the heavens to save the oppressed. We do not need the child of privilege, given everything, lacking nothing. We need someone who will fight with us. Who feels this pain too. We need someone who understands.

The second thing I want to say is this: Thor is not the firstborn of Odin. Hela is. Thor is not the heir to Asgard’s throne. Hela is. In nations built on violence and cruelty it is not the children of privilege who inherit. It is history. It is violence. It is cruelty itself.

When Hela tells Thor that he is in her chair, she isn’t lying – she’s correct. The throne is hers, and so is the power, and so is the land. She owns it. It is hers. And none of them may remember, but it has always been hers.

And so Thor tells Loki to burn it down. He burns down his home, his life, everything he has ever known. But in the end, he loses nothing, because none of it was ever his, really. It is not his inheritance that he burns. It is hers.

Who really has your power? Who really owns your land? Can you let it live, knowing it feeds something darker and bloodier than you care to remember? Can you really cling to your gilded thrones, knowing you are usurpers, knowing that one day history will rise up to claim its inheritance?

Do you dare to burn it down?

What will you really lose?    

[dkyler24]

Title: KIN

Chapter 1 /Part 1:

DANIEL,

Its been 18 years and everything that’s happened sort of feels like a bad dream, or complete delirium-guess it depends on how high I am on any given day. It’s crazy how it all started with a virus, the worst kind. Starts with a fever, cold sweats, loss of control of basic bodily functions; it spreads and spreads throughout the body( some slow, others fast), causes random bursts of uncontrollable aggression. At its peak, you eventually lose all the humanity and sanity you ever had, becoming an animal dead set on attacking anything that moves. We call people who’ve reached this peak Croats-after the virus, Croatoan-but you knew that.

I guess you could say my own sanity ended as well. Thankfully not in the way your probably thinking. No, what I’m suffering with just happens to be a bad strain of flu. Which currently seems to be killing me, slowly. Though, no matter how careless I got or what I risked for a simple bag of weed-I always came back 100% me. Or what’s left of me. It’s amazing, really, just how much humanity has changed me in just the span of several years. And all those gut wrenching feelings that came with it. Hopelessness, powerlessness, love, anger, fear. It was all garbage though, how humans cope with it all, I’ll never understand.

I’m not sure when drugs became more important than the mission, only that there was a time I wasn’t in a mindless haze 90% of the time-though I’m betting my ass it had something to do with the sleeping pills Dean had chucked at me my first night fully human- which, I assure you was only out of the purest intentions of helping me sleep through the night. Dean had his own issues, and sometimes I genuinely wondered why I was still here. He’d gone cold, everything I loved about him stripped away with time and loss. He was forever changed by the death of his brother.

I had to watch him turn into his father-maybe even worse. The perfect leader, a soldier, yet that love and warmth I’d fallen so deeply in love with so long ago, just gone. But still, whether I gave a shit or not, something still told me to stay. To be there.. just in case. After all, poor excuse for a man or not, I DID promise. I made a promise never to leave his side. Which will either end with me choking on pills or being gutted by a Croat whichever came first.

It was typical at this point in time to be so disoriented, that day looked like night and night looked like day. It was and still is the only way to get through the day without killing myself. As far as I knew, I couldn’t get by without a hit of something or an orgasm. I honestly didn’t think of the possibility of a child being born. I never really cared what happened to the women that came in and out of my hut. It didn’t seem worth it to get all sappy over any of them, it was an exchange of pleasure not love. The only love I’d ever know had been Dean, and the poor man didn’t even love me back, so what was the point in love? Especially when everyone we did care about were dropping like flies or raging monsters.

At first, I hated you, Because for the first time, I was forced to actually care about something other than drugs and self-sacrifice. You had been conceived through a typical night of depression and lust. The orgy must have consisted of 7 or so women( maybe, don’t quote me on that). I thank God every day, now( wherever he ran off to), that you were the only one. I’d have probably given myself up to the Croats if I had had 7 children running around this camp. Your mother, who’s name I either can’t remember or never bothered to, left you as an infant, screaming and kicking outside my hut. Later, I learned she’d been killed by a Croat during a raid( oddly convenient, huh?).

After Dean died two years later( curtesy of Lucifer) people began to pity me, ridicule me, or both. Whereas before, they accepted I’d always be a “ dirty hippie”, now they wanted me to replace Dean as head of the camp. It’s funny how desperate people get, turning to an orgy loving, dead beat druggie for assistance. Frankly, I didn’t care. Told everyone to right fuck off. To make matters worse, I still had a two year old little boy I wanted nothing to do with. The camp took pity on on you, of course. Basically did what I’d hoped and for the most part, tried to keep you away from me- which was all fine and good; but for some reason, you never seemed to care. Ignoring every warning, running back to me every damn time. Wanting to be around me. Talk to me. sleep with me. Maybe it was because we were kin, I don’t really know. Even during the nights I laid in bed, sick from whatever I’d taken too much of, you were there by my side. Willing to listen to my nonsensical babbling, cool my burning skin, and hand me water when I needed it. To say I didn’t deserve any of it was a huge understatement.

As the years went by, the camp got smaller and smaller, raid by raid, until only 8 of us remained. Unfortunately all of them were men. They all laughed at the idea of me not having women to objectify-but slowly began to turn in my favor once they realized I held the key to muting every terrible emotion this pandemic had caused. Soon, I was the main source for drug supply, they all bartered for nights of carelessness and sex. Gave me whatever I wanted as long as I took their suffering away. In a way, it made me feel like an angel again. Like I had a purpose in this crazy life. Never mind the depravity- it’s not like there were any angels left on earth to drag me down to hell for it. I was given a nickname- Smokey the Angel. Primarily to make fun of me, but when it stuck, I ended up adopting it for real. Wouldn’t Dean be proud of THAT legacy.

Eventually, the Croats seemed to evolve- like a deranged breed of human. They attacked in organized packs. They seemed to have regained the ability to talk and conform to a set of pre-determined standards. Instead of fighting like savages, most of them had taken up guns and other weapons. Favoring ambushes and raids of their own. Two men died after learning this the hard way. The remaining 6 men spent the next 16 years tracking and mapping out the Croats several camps and the evolvement of their intelligence, Which was not a slow process.

If I could secretly admit to being proud of anything, I guess it would be Your unwavering hunger for knowledge and your massive amounts of blind courage. It reminded me of a better time, when I was still useful, when giving a damn didn’t hurt so much. But more than anything, those bright green eyes, and that determined, focused drive that reminds me of Dean. Maybe that’s part of the reason I resisted you in the beginning. There were times, in my drunken, high drugged out mist, that I thought maybe Dean HAD been brought back. It wasn’t Impossible to believe my son could be the reincarnation of Dean. In fact, I’m believing it more and more the older you get. Not to mention, somehow your the spitting image of him.

Your probably wondering why I bother writing this, it’s not like you don’t already know half of this. I guess I just wanted you to know, that even though you were born out of despair, I don’t hate you. I never even bothered to be a father, if I had a do over, believe me, I’d try harder. You never deserved any of this at all. This life, full of fear and a man who can’t even see past his own self-loathing and grief to give you the childhood you needed. Even when I abused you, you never let go of your unconditional love for me. Deep down I knew I’d die in a heap of sweat with nothing good to show for the life I’ve lead-well, except you. My Daniel. Innocent, uncorrupted Daniel. You are my one good thing. I’ve asked too much of you over the years, I know, but if I could ask for one last thing, it would be to stay true to that.

I’ve arranged to send you somewhere you won’t ever have to suffer due to my neglect. A place without Croats, a fresh new world where you can start a new life away from all this. I never bothered to show you any kind of love, and that was my greatest mistake. So let this be a testament to how much I really do love you. Let this make up for all the times I abandoned you in your time of need.

Go through the rift, don’t ask stupid questions like how I did it and why I’m doing this. I won’t let you live the rest of your life in a miserable wasteland- and please don’t stick around to watch me die, you’ve been through enough.

I love you,

Your Father

..........................................

Daniel gaped at the letter, why the hell was he sitting here reading this instead of running to his side? “ what is this, a suicide note?” Eli gave him a look. “He didn’t give himself the flu.” Daniel glared at him. “That’s not funny. Now please for the love of God let me through, let me see my dad.” Eli shook his head, “normally, I wouldn’t give a rats ass what the man wants, but this was his dying wish. He told me not to let you see him until you read that letter. Personally, I think he’s raving mad, nearly dropped dead trying a second ago,” He shook his head in disbelief. “ still got so much energy..” Daniel tried to push past him, but the old man was surprisingly strong considering his bony frame. He stopped him, holding him back. “ why are you doing this! He’s gonna die while we’re out here bickering like little kids. I’m sorry if I’d like to hold my own fathers hand as he pass—“

“ Hey!” They heard a shout from inside. It was hoarse and ended in a fit of coughing. Daniel took that moment to shrug out of Eli’s grip and ran inside. There was a pitcher of water on a side table. He grabbed it and poured some into a plastic cup. Cas took it. “ Eli, I told you to have him read the l—“ Daniel huffed. “ Dad, will you forget about the damn letter for one minute and drink this, please?” Cas looked like he wanted to retort, but figured everyone would feel better after he’d downed the water.

“ why should I read some letter when you could just tell me yourself. I don’t want to spend your last moments waiting outside for you to die.” Cas grabbed his hand, “ In case you haven’t realized, I don’t have time for the I love you I’m sending you away speech; I’M DYING.” Daniels mouth fell open, “ sending me aw—Why? What the hell have I done?” Cas groaned. “ This would have gone so much easier if you’d just read the letter!” But Daniel set the letter aside. Squeezing his hand tighter. “ Screw. The. Letter. Look me in the eye and tell me everything, please.”

Daniel had always been stubborn, Cas should have known he wasn’t going to sit around and read a stupid letter. By some miracle, this man loved him- even though he never gave him a reason to. So, he gave up. He took a deep breathe, and proceeded to tell him everything. He’d managed to cut a deal with Gabriel, who thankfully was still alive, to open a rift to a timeline way into the future-one he knew Daniel would be safe in.

“ No, I’m not leaving you.” Daniel growled. Cas reached up to caress his face. “You always gave me a love I never deserved. Let me do this one thing for you please.”

“ well I don’t want it, any of this!” He seethed, tears creeping down his cheeks. “ why can’t you accept the fact that even though your a piece of shit, people still love you.”

“ I’ve had sex with everyone in this camp, repeatedly, trust me, at most they tolerated me. YOU always have, and whether you want it or not, I need to give it back, by taking you away from this empty, suffering place.”

Daniel closed his eyes. “ No. This is the worst thing you could possibly do.. but, your right about one thing, I will never stop loving you. DESPITE, how many times you’ve let me down.” He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. Eli, probably. He refused to open his eyes as Cas dragged him down into a tight hug. He ignored the rug burn as he landed on his knees. “Goodbye Daniel” Cas whispered.

And that was that. The arms that had pulled him in with boa constrictor-like strength, when limp. One last exhale, his eyes fluttered closed. He laid unmoving, blood drying at the corners of his mouth and in certain areas on his shirt.

Just then, Daniel heard a loud crackling behind him. He spun around, grabbing Cas Hand reflexively, only briefly forgetting he was dead. A man stood there. Dusty brown hair and a stupid smile on his face. “ you must be Daniel.” Daniel didn’t respond. Given he’d just watched his father die from the flu, he desperately wanted to punch this guy in the mouth. Eli gave him a warning look and shook his head. He’d known Daniel long enough to see it coming. In fact, when the camp was bigger, Eli had been one of the only ones willing to take him under his wing. Care for him durning his childhood years when Cas wouldn’t. When he was 16, despite Cas’ protests Eli, Dean and Bobby started training him and eventually took him out to help on raids.

Daniel took a cautious step forward and turned to glance at Eli. “ Even I agreed this was for the best kid. There isn’t much of a world left to defend here. The rest of us are sittin’ chew toys. GO. It’s ok.” Daniel took a step back, then walked over to Eli. Gabriel’s smile faded into impatientness. “ Come on kid, I’m not as strong as I used to be I don’t have all day.” Daniel turned a scorching glare on Gabriel and he raised his hands in defense. Daniel attacked Eli, yanking him into an embrace. “ Thanks for everything Eli. Hold down the fort?” Eli had tears running down his face. “ you bet I will.” He thought about just shooting the bastard and running, but deep down, he knew his father and Eli were right. There was truly nothing left of this world.

Gabriel took Daniel by the hand. He felt a small shock sail through his body as he jump through the waiting rift. Which was flickering and glitching like an actual lightning bolt. In an instant, they were both on the other side. Daniel unclenched his hand, finding that Gabriel was nowhere to be found. He stood facing a building, which looked to be at least a couple stories high. Nothing else surrounded it. No houses, just a dirt path leading who knows where. ‘ Great’ he thought. Wherever his dad had sent him, seemed to be right smack dab in the middle of nowhere. He sighed, frustrated as he trudged up to what he hoped was the front doors and knocked.

He waited, his heart hammering hard in his chest. It seemed to take forever before he finally heard heavy footsteps on the other end. On impulse, Daniel drew his gun and an angel blade from his belt. Ready for anything. The door swung open harshly.

..............................................................

What Daniel hadn’t been expecting was to see none other than Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester... and his dad. All pointing guns and blades at him. Dean’s hard look sent shivers down his spine. To Dean’s left, stood his Dad. Right off the bat he noticed a big difference. For one thing, he was healthy. Not the sweaty, hacking man who’d just died in his arms. He also looked older, way older. Although his dad had been human for years, he hadn’t aged as fast as most men in the Camp. Some didn’t even believe he WAS aging. It seemed this version of his dad had aged quite a bit. Crows feet at the corners Of his eyes, forehead lines, gray hairs and all. He wore a white shirt with a thin black plaid pattern, the buttons undone a little to show a plain white undershirt, simple blue jeans and a black belt. He wore thick white socks and no shoes. Sam and Dean hadn’t changed much, except for the obvious signs of age.

He re-holstered his gun and blade against his better judgement. There was a possibility he could be killed, but he’d probably be killed faster if he kept a gun pointed at them. He really didn’t know much about this new world he’d been sent to. It was clear it was earth. Possibly an alternate timeline?

[allenmendezsr]

Anxiety Disorder - Blue Heron Health News

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Anxiety Disorder - Blue Heron Health News

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    I used to suffer from anxiety attacks. They were intense and they were frequent. And, in a number of ways, they nearly ruined my life.

My anxiety disorder grew steadily worse over the 16 years I suffered it. It seemed to gather strength over time…  while my ability to cope with it gradually weakened.

There honestly were times where I wondered where it would all eventually end.

Things are different now.

I don’t suffer anxiety attacks like that any more. I haven’t for nearly two years and my mental health is pretty much fully restored.

It took some time for me to finally get better.

Although, to be truthful, time was something I had plenty of.

Because 16 years of anxiety attacks – and everything that entails – wasn’t going to mind an extra few weeks of the same.

But by the time it had came to its end my anxiety had shrunk to a shadow of its former self.

I don’t miss it!

And why would I?

Any type of anxiety disorder is just plain cruel

Anxiety kicked me around emotionally, mentally and physically.

Anxiety episodes themselves were often dreadful.

Frantic, panicky, scared… Worrying about all sorts of small details, ruminating to the point of panic…

Mentally I’d go round in circles and just think myself into distress and powerlessness.

Anxiety disturbed my sleep to the point I could sometimes wake up more tired than I was when I had gone to bed. 

And, inevitably, the misery of it all slipped me into occasional depression.

Mild depression is so common for people who suffer from any kind of anxiety disorder. I simply couldn’t recall the last time I felt relaxed or at ease.

Retreating from life

I tried so hard to avoid anxiety attacks that I retreated from situations and people that might trigger them.

The problem was that for me there were so many possible triggers that I was in danger at times of becoming a recluse.

My anxiety disorder made it difficult for me to make – and sustain – friendships.

Career aspirations took a back-burner too. I had to choose work where my bosses were completely understanding.

And where me being an emotional mess all of a sudden wasn’t going to get me fired! Which does restrict your options somewhat.

Not the future I wanted

I often feared that the effect anxiety was having on my relationships might leave me lonely and without friends. I didn’t want to be lonely…

I especially worried that my ability to work and support myself would deteriorate as the condition made my mental health slowly worsen.

And the physical cost – in terms of conditions that come from ongoing, chronic stress – didn’t bear thinking about.

Because the ongoing stress of my disorder is known conclusively to lead to chronic inflammation in the body.

And with too much inflammation an anxiety sufferer becomes a prime candidate for inflammatory disease. Which includes diabetes, fatty liver, kidney disease, arthritis, heart disease and some cancers.

So as well as a deteriorating mental health outlook…physical disability was an ever-present fear.

Doubting myself

All this made me wonder about me…

What was wrong with me? Why am I like this? What must I look like to other people? What would they be thinking about me?

I really did think sometimes that I was just a ridiculous person.

I tried the usual remedies…

I did everything I could to deal with my anxiety.

Medications made some difference. They often – although not always – took the edge off the worst anxiety attacks.

I took anxiety drugs for a while during my early years of the disease. Eventually on my doctor’s advice I stopped taking them. I was glad to stop – for two reasons.

First, the side-effects of the meds were similar to my actual anxiety! Agitation, sleep problems, loss of memory, poor concentration – even some confusion at times.

Second was that meds don’t address the actual causes of the anxiety.

They only work on symptoms – so you remain ill even when you’re drugged up.

The underlying causes of anxiety remain firmly in place… forever chipping away at your chances of ever having a truly happy life.

I didn’t like putting all those drugs into my body.

And I certainly didn’t like the fact that those meds can become habit forming – which is one of the reasons doctors try to get you off them as quickly as they can.

So what next?

So, like many anxiety sufferers, that left me having to use a variety of techniques to handle my condition.

Some approaches worked from time to time. Nothing was truly reliable though.

I truly thought then that reversing the condition was impossible.

I was wrong… but that was my thinking back then when I was ill.

In the meantime I was pretty stuck. I had better days and I had really difficult days. I rarely had two better days together. After years of suffering like this my anxiety disorder was making me grow tired and despondent.

Bad news… and good news

Even though I wasn’t sure that an anxiety disorder could be successfully treated it didn’t stop me from searching for some sort of miracle cure.

The bad news is that such a thing does not exist.

There are, of course, people out there who say otherwise.

They promise they’ll get rid of all types of anxieties using a secret potion made of some secret tree root they discovered in the forests of somewhere like Panama.

Other ‘gurus’ offer remedies based on all sorts of exotic rituals and exercises. A kind of faith healing, if you like.

I tried enough of them to know that none of these approaches offer single shred of improvement to an anxiety disorder.

There’s good reason why these quirky, untested approaches didn’t work. The people offering these ‘remedies’ simply didn’t understand what anxiety actually is.

They just didn’t understand that all anxiety disorders are intricate conditions with multiple layers of complexity.

There’s not a single pill or an exercise a person can do that’s going to make it go away just like that.

To make a change to an anxiety disorder requires a deep understanding of all the strands that have tied themselves together to create that disorder in the first place.

Thinking you can cure everything with a potion or a yoga exercise is just plain wrong.

Still, the promises are made. And people like me, desperate for some relief, fell for a few of them.

But now there’s some good news. Really, really good news.

If you’re patient, gentle with yourself and willing to slowly work through science-based, research-backed activities… then your world can change.

My world definitely did change.

It changed forever. I didn’t expect it to be this good. I sometimes can hardly believe that it is!

I stumbled on all this by accident

Some years ago I attended an anxiety support group where I used to live. We met weekly and although it didn’t do much to help with my anxiety it was comforting to not be alone with the problem.

It was on a visit back to that old neighborhood that I bumped into one of the group’s members.

Well. Ex-member, to be precise.

Martin had suffered from a different disorder to me – he had OCD for years – and I remembered that he had a hellish time getting it under control.

And although I couldn’t completely understand Martin’s world – my anxiety was generalised anxiety disorder (GAD) with occasional panic attacks (just to make life interesting) – I do know he had struggled a lot.

But while I still had very bad anxiety Martin had…. nothing.

No symptoms of OCD. No stress. No depression. No nothing.

We stopped off for a coffee and he explained what had happened.

The pathway out of anxiety

In a nutshell, Martin had become so despairing of his condition that he’d tried out some natural remedies. If modern medicine couldn’t help him then perhaps alternative medicine could.

Some of the different methods he’d tried had reduced the intensity of his symptoms – which meant that he could function better.

Excited by this small progress he’d gone down the alternative health rabbit hole… and then resurfaced with what he called ‘a miracle’.

Having tried many routes Martin had found a straightforward program that gave sufferers of all types of anxiety a clear but gentle pathway out of their problem – and into repaired and restored mental health.

All anxiety disorders are improved

Martin told me the method he used worked on these types of anxiety disorder:

Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and similar types of excessive and uncontrollable worries

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and its 4 major profiles

Panic Disorder, including agoraphobia and other intense experiences of fear or emotional discomfort

Post-traumatic Stress Disorder and similar illnesses related to traumatic experiences

Social Anxiety Disorder and other debilitating social fears and anxieties

Martin explained that his condition had melted away bit by bit over time. He’d first noticed a slight lessening of the intensity of his symptoms.

And then a reduction in their frequency.

Over time, intensity and frequency reduced to… just about nothing.

I remember that at the time he was telling me all this, I think my mouth must have hung open. At times he laughed at my expression. ‘It’s true!’ he insisted. And I nearly believed him.

Of course, now I really believe him. Because I’ve had his experience with my own anxiety disorder.

How it works

Martin told me he had been introduced to an alternative health practitioner by the name of Christian Goodman.

Christian Goodman is the creator of a very successful anxiety disorder program that is producing outstanding results for many hundreds of people.

It’s this program that had changed Martin’s life so dramatically.

Now I’m a little sceptical about alternative cures. I do mostly trust doctors and the drugs companies. Not everyone does of course.

But Martin’s advice to try out Christian Goodman’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ program came at a time when I was becomng increasingly worried about both my mental and physical deterioration.

I had reached a stage where I really was prepared to try anything – and this seemed like a pretty good bet.

My route out of anxiety

Christian’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ program guided me carefully through a set of activities that I could do at home whenever I felt up to it.

As I worked through these activities over time so my anxiety gently melted away until it no longer existed.

The program was simple, straightforward and consisted of several types of activities:

Daily habits Some simple daily work that takes a few minutes but which does some of the most wonderful healing I have ever experienced

When-you-feel-like-it activities Some thinking type exercises that helped me change my relationship with myself and my condition. These were transformative…

One-off actions Simple but important things I only had to do once but which revealed really useful insights into what I was suffering

Self-care habits I didn’t know much about how to truly care for myself until I learnt it from Christian. In truth, I didn’t realize how important it was either – until I actually did it. Amongst all the small but memorable victories I enjoyed with this program I think self-care gave me the quickest release from my anxiety misery.

Action activities There are specific things you can do that over time make you healthier in the mind and body. Very simple but once I started I really didn’t want to stop. So I haven’t. Why stop doing what makes you happy?

Beginner’s nerves

I was nervous at first… starting this program itself made me anxious!

It’s almost as if my anxiety was protecting itself from me getting rid of it.

But there were two things I loved about this program.

First, was that there was no timeline for completion, no schedule that forced me to do things in a certain time.

The rate at which I adopted these changes was decided by me and how I felt about them. Sometimes I did more work, sometimes I did less.

It was like a dance… slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. Except that it was me who decided the rhythm and pace.

Second, Christian cautioned me against placing expectations on myself. Things might improve a lot one week but only a little the following week. That’s okay.

You’re only expectation should be that you will follow the program as best you can.

The rest will take care of itself.

Some of the program’s activities worked their magic at a very deep level.

So while they were very easy to do… their benefits don’t reach the surface straight away.

What I was doing was always working – I just had to be a little patient before I experienced the results.

Getting started was easy…

Christian’s plan was eye-opening and inspiring from the first page to the last.

I had suffered my anxiety disorder for 16 years and in that time I’d read books, countless articles and watched hours of videos about anxiety…

Nobody told me the things that Christian taught me.

He opened my eyes to anxiety disorder and made me understand it so much better than I ever had before.

Of course, the problem with so much exciting new information is this: how on earth do I apply all the stuff I’m learning here?

‘The End of Anxiety’ handles that question very neatly.

First of all, Christian clearly explains the route out of anxiety.

He tells you the what, the why and the how of it all.

Simple explanations, clearly made points, easy to follow logic.

But then Christian offers you a simple start-up guide so that you can quickly make the learning work for you.

You know the quick-start sheet you get with a new phone or a complicated watch? It’s like that.

You want to get started now – not next week – so you need some simple steps you can start following immediately.

His ‘How to get started’ section told me what to do now. Then what to do next. Then what to do after that.

And once I built up my own confidence in what I was doing… I did what I wanted when I wanted to do it.

So long as I regularly did something I knew my anxiety was going to lose this battle.

And it did.

The difference that made the difference

I’m not criticizing the standard medical approaches to the various forms of anxiety.

Drugs, for all their addictive qualities and unpleasant side-effects, do make some difference.

CBT can make a difference too, even if it eventually wears off for many people.

And there are various self-management techniques that help us delay an attack, reduce it – or simply survive it.

But none of these really get to the heart of what’s wrong.

None of these will ever make you better.

One thing I learned from Christian is that anxiety disorders come from a place that can be very deep within us.

It’s not like a cut on your arm or a broken bone – something that can be clearly seen, easily diagnosed and quickly fixed.

Our disorder is hidden. It’s complex, tangled.

The causes of the disorder, the way the disorder affects us, our own thinking about ourselves and our world, and the coping mechanisms we employ to cope with our difficulties…

…all these are layered into the disorder itself, making it a deeper, much less accessible problem.

They feed into each other, creating a spaghetti-like tangle of fears, negative thoughts and distress.

It’s impossible to see where one aspect of our disorders begin and another one starts.

This is where Christian’s program is so different from anything I’d experienced before.

Standard medical remedies mostly address the symptoms – the surface – of the problem.

They get us through the day – which is a vital help – but we remain ill even when we’re managing to function.

Whereas ‘The End of Anxiety’ works very gently on the underlying causes of an anxiety disorder.

It gets to the foundation of the problem… and starts wearing away that foundation.

Instead of drugging me out of my anxiety Christian works on the inside, the source of that anxiety disorder.

And once it starts doing its work then the anxiety’s causes – whatever they are for your type of anxiety – start to subside.

Not because I’d medicated them out of existence but because they had started losing their grip on my life.

They were simply losing their reason to exist.

Quick anxiety relief…

Christian understands anxiety disorders.

Certainly he understands them better than I did. I suspect he knows more about the underlying condition than even my doctors.

After all, he did in weeks what my doctors hadn’t managed to do for me in 16 years.

But he states clearly that this isn’t a quick-fix-cure.

So you can expect to still experience your anxiety for some time – even while following this program. Things will improve. Attacks will become less frequent – and less intense when they do occur.

But while you’re still getting them Christian steps you through an excellent coping strategy that will dramatically reduce the intensity and the duration of the experience.

It was a new coping method for me – I’d never heard of this particular way of getting through an attack.

It helped keep me upright when things got tough. Which meant I was generally in much better condition to continue with the gentle work of melting away my disorder.

I wish I had learnt this years ago! But better late than never, I guess…

How about you?

I don’t know how you’re suffering. You may have a different anxiety disorder to the one I used to have. Or you may simply experience the same disorder in a completely different way.

Either way, I imagine that you’ve reached a point where you just don’t want it any more.

I empathize more than you might imagine. I do know what it’s like.

Anxiety disorder has no upside. It’s a cruel affliction that simply eats away at our happiness and destroys our simple hopes for a peaceful, contented life.

We didn’t earn our anxiety disorder. We don’t deserve what happened to us. It isn’t our fault.

Yet we feel that we’re stuck with it for life, that our anxiety is as much a part of ourselves as an arm or our kidneys.

It turns out though that this simply is not the case.

As nearly a thousand people have now found out… we’re no longer helpless and anxiety doesn’t have to be a life-sentence.

With patience and the right guidance we can gently ease ourselves out of the darkness and into the light.

Christian Goodman’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ is that guidance.

And the moment I decided I wanted to heal and that I was going to take those first tiny steps towards saving myself from a life of anxiety misery… was the single best day of my life.

Because everything that is wonderful in my life now is because of the decision I made then. 

How will it be for you?

Well, you have your type of anxiety disorder. You experience it in your own unique way. So your own experience of anxiety is uniquely yours. There’s nobody else quite like you.

Which means your journey to healing might differ in some respects to mine.

The key though is that you get on that path. This is what really matters.

Once I’d decided that enough was enough – I had put myself firmly on that path.

I wanted a different kind of life.

One that was significantly calmer, more predictable, and which freed me to lead the kind of normal existence that so many other people take for granted.

And that’s my reality now.

By following Christian’s advice to the letter you present your anxiety with an irresistible healing force.

Over time, it has no option but to surrender.

Christian’s program is guaranteed

Hundreds of people have successfully used ‘The End of Anxiety’ to successfully treat their anxiety disorders. They followed the guide and allowed improvements to come in their own time.

Their lives now are nothing like their lives were before.

The change to their anxiety disorder – and therefore to their day-to-day happiness – has been quite literally transformative.

There’s no reason why it wouldn’t be exactly the same for you.

Which is why Christian offers you a complete money-back guarantee on his program.

If within 60 days purchasing ‘The End of Anxiety’ you are not completely happy with the changes to your anxiety situation so far… then you can have all your money back. No questions.

Christian makes this guarantee because he’s witnessed so very many people gain life transforming benefits from following his simple plan. Their health and happiness improves as their anxiety recedes into the background.

They are relaxed, calm and in control of their lives. They experience few – or, in most cases, absolutely no – anxiety symptoms.

I wanted to know what it felt like to live my life without an anxiety disorder. I found out. And you can too – click here and get your own copy of ‘The End of Anxiety’…

All anxiety sufferers realize in the end that if we’re going to heal then we are going to have to play an active role in that healing.

If you’ve endured anxiety for any period of time then you already know that it isn’t going to just disappear on its own.

If you do nothing… it’s yours forever.

My anxiety had a cause. Yours does too.

Your anxiety cannot withstand an approach that directly affects that cause.

It cannot resist something that gently dissolves its grip on your happiness.

Christian’s research-backed methods gradually eased anxiety out of my life.

So I know it works.

And Christian guarantees it.

If within 60 days purchasing this program you don’t agree that you’re feeling significantly better than you have done for years then you can have all your money back.

I took Christian up on this same offer a little over 2 years ago. I’m a completely changed person – and I live a much happier, stress-free life.

That can be your story too. Take charge of what’s happening to you… and then watch it change. Get ‘The End of Anxiety’ by clicking here…

There’s no end to where an anxiety disorder can take you.

Over time, a sufferer’s mental health deteriorates. If the condition isn’t addressed head-on, depression becomes significantly more likely.

That’s not all. The condition eventually undermines physical health too.

Ongoing stress – an integral part of anxiety misery – releases stress hormones into the bloodstream.

And ongoing levels of stress hormones in the body lead to inflammation and a host of related physical diseases – with diabetes, kidney and liver disease, heart disease and various immunity malfunctions being the most common.

I wasn’t going to let this happen to me. First my mental health was suffering.

And then my physical health could follow suit.

Enough was enough. I wasn’t going to wait around until my health had deteriorated to the point of no return. I didn’t want that regret hanging over my head.

Once I made my decision to heal… Christian’s program did the rest.

It was easily the best decision I have ever made.

If you’ve read this far then I believe you’ve made your decision too.

You’ve decided you’re not going to suffer like this anymore. You’ve decided you’re going to heal.

Which means you need ‘The End of Anxiety’. Click here and you can have it…

[vidalinav]

When the Light Touches the Darkness

Okay, so I have this headcanon that Perranth is really colorful and has a lot of festivities, and is just beautiful and happy.

Also I always thought that Elide would be able to use the yielding so that’s what this is.

Read on AO3

They were sitting by the fire, staving off the cold that hurtled towards them. The crackling comforting her, even if the flame only reminded her of how close she had been. To happiness, to love, to a family. It had slipped right through her fingertips.  

No one made a sound, no one dared breathe louder than the crickets in the calm of night. Not while, Aelin was still resting in her tent, Rowan eternally by her side. Not while tomorrow was a mountain no one wanted to climb.  

The world was still, holding its breath for the inevitable. It was more hopeful than she could have been, it couldn’t feel the oblivion creeping on the edge of the universe. Tomorrow the world would continue, though all of them might not. The birds would sing, the wind would dance, the sun would shine as if they had never existed at all. As if they had never mattered to begin with.  

Elide had tried not to think those terrible thoughts. She had tried to remind herself that she was still breathing, the people she loved were still breathing. But it was hard to be hopeful, when it didn’t matter either way. Tomorrow they would win or lose, and though they might win in the end, all of them would lose something.  

Maybe it was her pain that he sensed, shooting lightning bolts to the beat of his heart. Elide had asked him to stay away, but she doubted he ever could.

He walked towards her, saddened, guilty, and ashamed, but she had felt that way her whole life. Someone else had to feel her sorrow.

“Elide…” He stared, but she stopped him before he could finish.

His face was solemn as she gazed at him, usually so strong and sensible. The face she fell for, the face she wanted to wake up next to. Just gazing into his eyes made the fire rage.

“No, Lorcan.” Never again.

Elide shook her head at his silent plea. She had been on the edge for many years, always teetering between hope and loss. The little she had left was kept in the confines of her heart, safely kept away for those who needed some of their own. Elide could spare no more.

“Perranth will be colorful again.” She promised. With or without you.

Elide didn’t look at him as she got up from her seat, to go far away from the idea she could no longer dream of.

“Even if I die before I get to see it.”

She walked away before he could hear her, said it so silently even she had trouble hearing it, but Elide was sure he had heard.

Her words were the only blanket left to cover her.

Somewhere, in a new world all her own, Elide would have been able to see the stars in the middle of the day. They would have laugh at her, while she danced beneath them. She would not have cared one bit at their mockery. The mountains would have shamed her, for her debauchery and her insolence, and Elide would have screamed to those mountains that she was alive. She wasn’t going anywhere.

In another world, she wouldn’t have cared that she was too small, too shy, and too powerless to become anyone of importance. She wouldn’t have cared about importance at all. Elide would have breathed in the air, soft as petals, would have cried only for the sake of freedom. There would have been no pain, no ruthless endeavors. There would have only been love and a strong need to feel it.

Elide would have loved.

But, her fingers clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palm, and the blood was dripping from her fists. It flowed into a pool of dark, staining burgundy- from soldiers or monsters, no one could tell anymore. They littered the floor like the ashes falling from the bluggering sky, weeping for her lost and forgotten children. A mere nothingness to her eternal existence.

Because this was not Elide’s world, and she was not powerful. She was not anything but scared.

Elide looked at the world, at Manon every bit as fierce as a untamed lioness, at Abraxos who looked like he could fall from one more blow but still kept fighting. She looked at Aelin, fire by her fists, fire in her heart, but a cold world all around her. She looked at Rowan, who fought teeth and nail to protect his love- his family. At last she looked at him, and he looked at her.  

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to see someone she loved, maybe she was only supposed to feel hate. She couldn’t feel anything anymore. Like the wind had knocked out of her, like the stars had ceased to shine, like the cries she heard were from the very pit of her soul.

Elide didn’t expect the world to be so dim, so shallow, so dark.

The stark realization hit her so blindly, she could barely see. When she was little she used to hide in the closet, so the darkness wouldn’t find her. There was nowhere to hide anymore.

“I just want there to be light again.” She whispered. Beyond the screams, the groans, the clashing of swords, she whispered her dreams to the sky, to anyone who would listen.

“I just want there to be light again!” She screamed.

Lorcan tried to run to her, tried to stop something he could not control. She may not have been made of flames, but she was ever burning. There was no end, no beginning, only darkness, and she wanted to see.  

Elide walked. Past body, past life, past soldier and enemy, all the same after they had died, a wick of a candle blown away- blown to dust. She walked to the edge of a great big world of angels and demons, of beauty and terror, of love and hate. Two sides of the same coin, a game only fate and luck and chance could win.

And when she turned and saw tears, from those who fought and those laid dying, she understood what love meant, what it had always meant to her. Her mother had known this, had felt it in that very moment.

Elide glanced at no one in particular, and everyone all at once. She stopped only when she reached the harsh lines of her queen’s face and the sweat that dripped from her brows.

“Make Perranth colorful again.”

Aelin only nodded her head as the tears began to stream. Maybe they were on her face as well, she couldn’t tell. Her gaze fixed on Lorcan, strong and mighty, even if this was the worst she had ever seen him. She smiled, a little sad, a little hopeful, a little bit of the sweetness left inside of her.

“I love you.”

His eyes were shining, and she could feel his need to stop her and run far away, like he always wanted to, like he tried. There was no running from the truth- where she always thought there would be darkness, there was light inside of her. It was the last and only thing she could offer her glorious family.

Elide may not have been born with magic, had not been strong or talented like her cousins, but she was born with a love so mighty she swore it could move mountains. That was enough. It had to be enough.

“No, please no.” Even as he whispered, it was the loudest scream she’d ever heard.

She stepped backwards, glimpsing their war-torned faces filled with grief and sorrow. They would be happy in the end, she would make sure of it.

Using the magic her mother gave her and the only power her father left her, Elide gave to the world what she could not give to her friends. Her complete and utter love.

She stepped off the ledge and watched as her friends shielded themselves. Protected and safe, Elide always wanted them to be safe. They would have a life time together; she’d always watch over them. She’d never have to worry again.  

The well of magic opened and the heavy darkness consumed her, she felt the warmth spread through her body. She felt the acceptance through it all, the truth that the world was good and she had been a part of it.

The warmth grew hotter and hotter, comforting even when her soul began to ache. Ripped to shreds with the last bits of her memory and her peace. Her parents would have been proud of her. Maybe in another world, she’d get to see them.

She had always been afraid of the dark, always yearned for the sun when it was much too far away. The darkness hugged her close, but she could hear laughter in the distance, sweet, sweet laughter.

The light was the last thing she’d see.

I’ve been in a crappy mood so someone had to die. Sorry, sort of.

[zzapathetic]

What happens when you argue with a narcissist?

An argument with a narcissist can go two ways, depending on whether you know how to deal with one, or not.

The moment a confrontation with a narcissist arises, he/she is immediately engaged in a defensive mode of deflection, projection, lies, misdirection, elusiveness and a lot of manipulation. Go far enough and it’ll become psychopathic, sadistic and extremely violent.

You will never receive a straight answer from a narcissist if it means he/she has to admit wrong doing. As soon as you accuse the narcissist of something, they’ll circumvent the accusation and think up something totally irrelevant in order to change it or turn it back onto you. They will do this habitually throughout the entire argument, filibustering to confuse and make you lose focus on what you’re arguing about. Any opportunity they have to send you off on a side track to avoid the original problem will be taken, and it’s intended to confuse, raise your back up, make you question yourself, disorientate you, force you to become defensive and make you forget the original argument. In most cases you’ll end up bickering about something completely different and because the narcissist is ruthless in this defensive attack, he/she will make it personal. They’ll intentionally lie for the purpose of making you agitated and furious, and the moment they hear you raise your voice in a defensive anger, they find their excuse to escape from the argument or the opportunity to belittle you or simply say ‘You’re shouting, why are you shouting?’. This activates their control of the whole situation now because you’ve lost control of yourself!

By turning it around to antagonise you, they have successfully made you the problem. They’ve made you the angry one, the one raising your voice and becoming animated. They can now make you out to be the trouble maker and anything else they wish to say about your reactions, whilst your original angst towards them for doing something bad, goes forgotten. You walk away feeling deflated, like you’re at fault, utterly frustrated, angry and on edge.

During an argument, a narcissist will take it absolutely anywhere in order to protect his/her vulnerabilities and denigrate the one who is trying to penetrate them and force him/her to admit wrong doing. If the subject of the argument is about the narcissists selfishness, lies and manipulative ways, his/her defenses are going to be on high alert. You’re going into forbidden territory and they will become vicious, nasty, cruel and wicked with what they fire back at you for the intention of hurting your feelings, frustrating you and cluster-bombing you with personal insults so you have no other option but to walk away. Anyone bringing a narcissists secret traits for manipulation to the surface will be met with this maniacal onslaught, and the more psychopathic the narcissist is, the easier it will be to escalate the the verbal violence into physical violence. Anything will be said, to stop the attack on their vulnerabilities and equally, to stop themselves having to atone for their foul traits and abusive behaviours. The whole point to this raging return fire is to impose fear of a repeat attack, even if you are well within your rights to hold them to reproach for doing something wrong. A narcissist cannot admit wrong-doing at any cost, because that undermines their over-compensated view of self. To admit being wrong, is to admit they are wrong, their thinking is wrong, their opinions are wrong. To admit to doing wrong and being wrong about anything, sends them into an anxious frenzy of self-doubt which activates their feelings of insecurity. It heightens their vulnerable state and whoever brings that threat now has control over how they represent themselves as the false persona. To lose control in that way, forces them to feel imperfect, flawed and weak. To even deliberate this show of vulnerability is intolerable, because they do not have the ability to control how quickly their insecurities plummet. The fear of falling into those depths of fear is enough to make them fight it with the only learned method they have - Violence. To look upon oneself as being wrong, causes their feelings of superiority to dismantle and now, they feel inferior.

This cannot and will not happen. With a pathological defense method, the narcissist will never allow himself/herself to collapse into that whirlpool of insecurity and vulnerability. It has become a learned method from childhood to keep the vulnerability in the shadows and over-compensate by turning their inferiority complex into superiority and that is their armour. To protect what’s inside.

If a narcissist incites an argument with you, it’s purely to offload some sort of vexation, anger or to regain a loss of control. In worst cases it’s to purposely bring about suffering to weaken, invalidate and disorientate for their own self-esteem or to mete out revenge. A narcissist always dealt with their problems through confrontations and fights, and they will stoke one up in any way they can. The favourite method is to antagonise and bait you into an angry reaction. Approach you with an accusation, create a situation where you react, you become the antagonist and the narcissist has the open window to unleash. It can be as simple as insulting something you are doing or have done, - or haven’t done. Gaslighting. Sabotaging. Even asking them to do a simple chore. If they can force you into an angry reaction, they’ll thrive at the opportunity. If you lose your temper in any situation, the raised voice and angry tone will be a magnet for the narcissist who will manipulate your already heightened state of vexation and will gladly make you worse until you snap, and now they have their access to an argument.

The only way to pursue an argument with a narcissist that has originated from your questioning of them, is to become thick skinned, never deviating from the original subject. Brush off any attempts at projecting anything back onto you and never ever take anything they say personally. Repeat the question/questions and block/brush off any attempts at trying to hurt your feelings or hit low. Remain absolutely calm, remain steadfast and keep forcing them back to the original questioning. Eventually when they realise that none of their methods to incite a reaction are working, they’ll go into vile territory with the flick of a switch. It’s practically instantaneous. They’ll show you what lies deep within and spew a torrent of vicious, nasty and hateful things to hurt your feelings. This is where you’ll bear witness to the real person beneath the facade. This reaction will be all you need to respond with ‘Thank you’ and walk away knowing that you just made a narcissist, not only drop the mask, but reveal their true inner self in all its psychopathic glory. Once you see that, your only thought process will be to leave the relationship with absolute certainty.

The only way to deal with a narcissist trying to force you into an argument, is to do one of three things: 1. Ignore. 2. Respond with ‘mmhmm’ and go about your business and 3. walk away. 

Cut and run. Walk away. I could have condensed all 600 pages down to one phrase: walk away. You see these things, you feel alright, you feel awkward, you feel something’s wrong. Walk away. It doesn’t pay to stay around until you label the person or you figure things out. Walk away.

Do not maintain contact. Do not accept gifts. Do not answer the phone.

Make it clear that you want no further contact. Every contact is interpreted by the narcissist as a vulnerability, as a chink in your armor. The narcissist will invade you. He is much more adept at manipulating you that you are at defending yourself. He manipulates for a living. His life is manipulation. You defend yourself yourself only when needed. So he has an advantage over you. He’s a pro, you are an amateur.

Recognise the vocal tones, the body language and when you know what’s coming, use your own defenses. A narcissist cannot get anywhere without a reaction. If he/she becomes so agitated that they can’t get their supply from you that they lay their hands on you, that’s the point of no return and you leave.

They key is to never show a narcissist you’re being harmed by them. Negative people who want to bring about discord to pacify their inner chaos do not know how to respond to kindness and calmness. For them, it is an impenetrable barrier. They only know one thing and that is to create discord and see you suffer as a result. If they do not have their reaction, in either situation, they become absolutely powerless and they’ll show you what lies beneath without being able to control it. The vexation and agitation will build up in them to such an intent, that it’ll be a catastrophic explosion of rage etc that will obliterate the mask, the facade and hidden agenda.

But an important thing that must be said. You must learn about Narcissism and Narcissistic Personality Disorder in totality. Not just self help nonsense, but accredited psychoanalysis from experts. It’ll be the most valuable knowledge you can possess when dealing with any narcissist, but equally, knowing whether the person has trait narcissism or a full personality disorder!

(via Quora)

[skypondcrossing]

When We Ruled the World

Part III: Fall from Grace

Sanada Genichirou was four years old when he met Yukimura Seiichi. A three part history on Sanada and Yukimura’s bond from childhood to realization. SanaYuki. AtoSana.

 When he finally found the courage to visit Yukimura in the hospital, the gentle boy had smiled and chided him for worrying about what he could not control. It made Sanada feel even worse that the other boy knew him so well to alleviate him of the worries he knew Sanada must have had but did not mention. He was torn from his self-blame to far more pressing realities however. He had not given Yukimura’s illness much thought despite Yanagi’s complicated explanations, self-assured it would be fleeting because Yukimura could never be associated with any sort of permanent weakness. This time around, he was force to take notice of the slender form, which had grown too sharp, the sweater perpetually wrapped around his shoulder though the heater was cranked up all the way and the way his grip trembled with the weight of only a hot water mug.

 Yukimura had become a more reduced presence without tennis and his health and strength. Without the ability to contribute, his voice grew smaller only to make self-deprecating comments on the burden he had become. It made Yukimura vulnerable and Sanada extremely uncomfortable. Even the other regulars noticed the way their captain was shutting himself off from the rest of the team, peering out the window instead of joining in their lighthearted conversations.

 In Yukimura’s great absence, Sanada was forced to become the leadership of Rikkai’s tennis team. Frustrated at the unexpected transition and deeply unsettled by his inability to help Yukimura’s condition, Sanada was crushed with extraordinary pressure. He dealt with it in the only way he knew how, by exerting even greater discipline on himself and the environment, finding relief in control with his actions when he felt powerless about the circumstances. For the players, he was a ruthless and oftentimes violent leader, focusing his entire energy on the one promise he made to Yukimura.

 At first he only took his anger out on Kirihara, who in the absence of Yukimura’s calming presence, began once again to terrorize the courts with his volatile tennis style. After he sent two players to the hospital, Sanada in a fit of anger backhanded the boy in front of the entire team. As Kirihara stalked off with tears of shame in his eyes, the other regulars looked at each other in shock. After that episode, the others did not regard him in the same way again. Even Kirihara was more repressed and reserved, flinching whenever Sanada raised his tone around him. Tennis practice became a deathlike drone and the law of absolute victory became cemented through corporal punishment, which Sanada himself was the strictest of advocates.

 Yukimura’s style of coaching had been insightful and guiding; he was able to coax out each players’ potential by understanding their motivations and the areas of their psychologies to tap into in order to get the best results. Sanada, in comparison was completely authoritarian. He led completely alone by his actions, carrying the entire burden of their loss, channeling that into even tougher training and punishment toward his own body. He worked through flesh to bone, displaying unintentionally to everyone the unwavering dedication he had in his love towards the captain and the raw desperation of his attempts to deal with all the pain and confusion. It was completely moving, and everybody could not help being affected.

  I’m here to see Yukimura. Can you let me know where he is?

 “He’s in the gym,” said the nurse with a knowing look.”

 “Thank you.” Sanada ignored her though he knew exactly what she was insinuating. As he neared the gym, he made sure to lighten the sounds of his footsteps.

 Making sure the other could not see him, Sanada watched his friend struggle alone, repeating the same movements until his muscles gave out. He was slowly relearning how to walk with the aid of the plastic beams to guide him. Sanada was not surprised Yukimura had managed to make so much progress in only a few weeks.

 The boy had tried to keep this training a secret, not wanting the pity of others if they saw how he exerted so much effort to do such simple things. Sanada had found out by pure coincidence when he visited him. Knowing the boys’ pride, he could only watch silently. It was hardest in the beginning. Every time Yukimura lost his balance and fell hard to the ground, Sanada had to resist his protective urge to burst in to the room and help him up. Sanada could tell he had been practicing for a while now with the beads of sweat coming down his face. Waiting until his friend took a break, accidentally nodding off in much needed slumber, Sanada gently lifted the boy from the ground. He felt awkward and out of place in the hospital as he carried the boy into his room tucking him into the covers. Unable to resist he reached out to smooth back a lock of Yukimura’s dark blue hair. Body moving as if it had a mind of its own, Sanada found his hand gently cupping his cheek as he leaned to press a fleeting kiss on the other’s forehead.

 The boy barely stirred.

 Gathering his composure, Sanada slipped out of the room, with the knowledge that he would be back tomorrow and every day that followed.  

  As time went on, even the deathlike practices had become bearable and Yukimura was opening up to him again. When Sanada pointed it out, Yukimura has told him about the surgery proposed by the doctor, which if successful would allow him to play in the nationals if all went smoothly. While Yukimura only saw full recovery on the tennis courts, all Sanada could think of was the 50% success rate.

 Rikkaidai lost to Seigaku in the Kantou Finals but the surgery had been successful. When Sanada summoned up the courage to relay the results to their captain, he had prepared himself for any punishment Yukimura would deliver. What he had not foreseen was the despair in the other boy’s eyes, composure completely surrendered. In an uncharacteristic display of anger, Yukimura snapped and threw Sanada out of the room before he would crumble.

 Though only a wall separated the two, Sanada had never felt more helpless as he did then, listening to Yukimura’s scream of agony, hands pressed against the locked door. The other members did not dare to stop him as he walked away, Yukimura’s soft sobs still ringing in their ears.

  Eventually Yukimura returned to the tennis courts, to the exasperation of his doctors. Everyone was glad, non more so than Sanada. Though the whole team practiced harder than ever under Sanada’s Spartan regime, they were not very productive. With the return of Yukimura, the spirit of the team was reignited with new vigor and hope.

 The inexplicable amount of relief Sanada felt upon seeing his best friend once again leading their team dissipated as quickly as it came. Though Yukimura was a perfect display of considerateness, there was an impenetrable distance between them, greater than even before his illness. Whereas before, Yukimura flitted in and out of Sanada’s understanding, now the boy truly buried himself only revealing to the world only the polished and impeccable façade.

 All their conversations were carried out in the respective roles of captain and vice captain. Their afterschool walks, where they could talk freely just the two of them away from the pressures of the tennis team, had completely disappeared. Still, Sanada was relentless, propositioning different ways for them to hang out together but they were always met with an endless stream of excuses.

 What hurt most was seeing Yukimura visit the flower shop with Renji right after telling Sanada he was too busy one Saturday. And Yukimura still had the time to work with Kirihara or Marui on their form before morning practices. Everyone was getting the captain’s attention like they always did. Yukimura had never been particularly close with anybody but he always held Sanada in closer regard. Now it was like Yukimura had determined to see him as just another team member.

 His frustration with this current relationship with Yukimura was what made Sanada agree recklessly when Atobe Keigo challenged him in an unofficial match.

 It felt great, viciously venting his anger in every shot, basking as his team members screamed their cheers.

 “You’re not fit to be a member of Rikkai, Atobe,” he sneered in contempt.

 The other merely smiled mysteriously before hitting his shot back, except this time, the shot left him frozen with no time to react at all.

 “That’s enough!” The soft but decisive voice of Yukimura rang out.

 “Would you like to be my partner?” asked Atobe mockingly.

 “Of course. That would be fun in an official match.” Yukimura’s smile was unfazed and Atobe was forced to retire earlier than he wanted. They both watched until Hyoutei’s captain walked out of earshot.

 “Why did you stop it?” Sanada had never felt more humiliated.

 “Because you would have lost, Genichirou.” Though Sanada knew Yukimura’s insight was usually spot-on and he was only speaking honestly, that didn’t help the sting of the implications. Sanada was not mature enough put up a false show of agreeableness and turned away from him spitefully without saying anything.

 He was surprised to hear familiar footsteps follow after him though Yukimura did not say a word.

 The sun was dropping below the horizon again and Sanada was reminded of another sunset at a much different time. Though it was less than a year ago, it felt ages. Sanada stopped and turned to face Yukimura.

 Yukimura must have noticed something in his expression. “Sanada?”

 Sanada did not answer but stepped closer to where the other stood, casting a dark shadow over him. Yukimura made no move to back away but merely looked up with impenetrable eyes.

 Maybe it was Yukimura coming after him, like he did in the old days whenever Sanada was upset. Maybe it was spell of twilight and the way the sun warmed his face with radiance. It reminded Sanada of a wooden puppet turning into human form and even his eyes seemed to lose some of its distance. Maybe it was Sanada reaching the limits of his self-restraint but he no longer wanted to hold back.

 It was just enough of a reason for him to pull Yukimura towards him, cradling him by the neck with one hand and the other in the small of his back to pull him closer. Yukimura tensed and made a small effort to pull away but Sanada held on tightly, not allowing him to get away that easily. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply.

 “Stop pushing me away.” His voice was heavy with emotion. Yukimura froze at his words, letting his arms drop to his sides from where he had been trying to force Sanada away. He cupped Yukimura’s face deliberately between his hands willing their gazes to meet. Sanada leaned forward to capture his lips, breaking the barrier so fantasy became reality at last. It was a heated, heart-rending exchange, which expressed all of Sanada’s feelings of restraint and pent up longing over the years of their friendship. Getting caught up in a surge of boldness, Sanada deepened the kiss with Yukimura, who was so dazed he could do no more than receive the onslaught of it all. Sanada held the boy tightly in place and kissed his way to the back of his neck. It was only when Sanada ran his hands down the curve of his hips did Yukimura snap back to reality and find the strength to push him away.

 Despite his flushed and unkempt appearance, Yukimura’s voice was deathly serious when he asked, “What were you thinking Sanada?”

 Sanada could see Yukimura clenching and unclenching his fists.

 “I’m sorry for startling you,” he took in a breath and stated simply, “I like you. I’ve liked you ever since we met.”

 “Genichirou,” said Yukimura in the same gentle tone he used to comfort Kirihara when the younger boy’s feelings were hurt. “We’ve been best friend since childhood. You’re mistaking the feelings.”

 He shook his head violently. “No! I know clearly what I feel for you.” Sanada looked at him, the intensity in his eyes making Yukimura shiver.

 “When we first met, I was so happy there was someone who liked tennis as much as me,” Sanada’s tone had grown unbearably tender, “The childhood me looked up to you and though I didn’t like many people, I wanted to be around you always and see you smile. You were the reason I became strong.”

 “As we grew up, we became the captains of Rikkai and more was expected of us, especially you.” He glanced over at Yukimura who was listening to his every word. “We worked harder than anyone to reach our dreams together. But when you got sick, I realized something. The team and I had always rested in the belief that you would carry us with your strength. It must have been so much pressure for you.”

 “Now, I want to be your source of strength.” Sanada walked towards Yukimura and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I love you. That has never changed. Only now I also want you in ways the childhood me didn’t know.”

Yukimura’s expression crumpled completely as if Sanada had caused him unbearable pain. Turning away, his voice was completely steady when he whispered. “I don’t love you.”

 “I will never love you the way you do me.”

 A long silence met his words.

 Ten years since he’s met Yukimura. Ten years since he’s loved him. 520 weeks of practices and training, and their dedication to build a legacy which will live on long past them. 3,640 days of watching each other grow up in the sunrise and sun fall. Too many to count for the hours and minutes of observing Yukimura in awe, relishing in his well deserved successes, drowning in his struggles and despairs, dreaming of him reciprocating this love, crushing defeat when reality breaks, resisting hard at the bonds of these painful feelings, and failing always to his smiles and laughter.

 Sanada swallowed and all it takes is one second to break all his ill-conceived illusions. He begins to walk away and wonders why he does not feel any pain. He receives his answer he feels his entire body is numb. The air is thick with humidity, suppressive like the rolling heat of summer and Sanada cannot feel his heavy bones. By the second he grows more desperate. He feels suffocated and wishes he were underground in the cold dark Earth.

 “Sana-“ The familiar voice pierces through the numbing haze. Sanada takes the opportunity to leave and does not look behind. His footsteps do not slow even when he hears his name carried by the wind.

  Tennis practice was a tense and uncomfortable affair after then. Though everyone knew something had happened between the captain and vice captain, no one dared say a word to the both of them. Whenever, Kirihara tried to bring it up, Renji would give him a reprimanding look and smoothly changed the subject.

 Finally, unable to take the tension anymore, Renji managed to track down Sanada one day on his way home after practice.

 “What happened to you and Yukimura?” Sanada stays silent and his expression betrays nothing. He takes perverse pride in this newfound accomplishment.

 Renji sighed exasperatedly, “Look, I’ve known Yukimura even longer than you. Though he’s polite and kind to everybody, he rarely gets close to anyone. You are the only one close enough for him to let down his guard. When you are like this, he is entirely alone.” The words made Sanada pause in his footsteps.

 “And you hold Yukimura dearer than anybody. I’m sure whatever happened can be worked out.”

 “It’s not that simple, Renji. Yukimura love the image of me he knows. He takes comfort in my stability, my loyalty, my unwavering and safe friendship,” Sanada practically sneered at the word. “But that’s not what I want and when he finally saw my true desires beneath it all, he didn’t want any part of it.”

 “Sanada…” Renji’s voice was regretful.

 “Disgusting, isn’t it? I hate myself for the delusions.” He laughed mirthlessly.

 “Sanada, you can’t expect to keep this torrent of feelings locked up forever. It will drive anyone crazy.”

 “Rikkai monsters!” At this moment, Atobe suddenly interrupted their reveries and in a surreal display of ostentatiousness, stepped out in full suit from his limo. “How about a ride?”

 “Why not?” Happy to put off the future for a bit more, Sanada readily strode over.

 “Sanada! If Yukimura finds out, he will be furious. And right before nationals too.”

 “I don’t care,” it felt good to shrug off the responsibilities expected of him as vice captain and undyingly loyal best friend. With that he slammed the door shut. He pushed Renji’s disapproving look out of his mind and turned to Atobe, who was watching him intently as if studying an extremely rare species.

 “What?” He felt a little disconcerted.

 “Oh, just thinking to myself how much I like you like this.”

 “Like what?” Atobe chose not to answer the question.

“Hmm you have beautifully genuine eyes Sanada. They reveal every thought that crosses your mind. That’s why you wear that hat isn’t it? To put up a barrier.”

 “Maybe, who knows? More importantly, what do you want?”

 “Isn’t it too late to ask now that you’re in the car?” Atobe said in a light tone. Sanada explained he got in because he didn’t want to hear Renji’s chiding anymore.

 “Look, everybody knows you are devoted to your captain. But I also know he has never once responded to you. With rumors that both of you were having some troubles, the opportunist in me had to try my luck.” Sanada didn’t even feel hurt by the way Atobe straightforwardly laid out the situation. He liked the way Atobe was direct about what he wanted, unlike the confusion of subtext, which colored his bond with Yukimura. “ I’m not asking for your complete love and devotion, only a chance. Maybe you’ll even learn to like something else better.”

 Sanada considered for a moment. “I’ll agree but with conditions. Don’t let this interfere with tennis and don’t take it too seriously.” Atobe laughed and was delighted.

 They ended up watching tango at a ludicrously upper class theater. Still, Sanada was enjoying himself, to his surprise. In fact the other boy was a witty conversationalist and he found himself genuinely enjoying the talk about classical history, a subject they both had interest in.

 They begin meeting weekly afterwards, sometimes even more and Atobe was true to his word. Every week they went to a new show or party. It was like Sanada entered a part of world previous closed off to him, wholly unfamiliar but not uninteresting. Sanada truly grew found of the other boy’s company but Atobe was still not completely satisfied. Sanada brought it up when they were taking in a walk around the Tokyo bay. Atobe had rented the park for a day so there were no others besides them.

 “What’s wrong Atobe?”

 “Sanada, do you find me attractive?” If it were not for his dead serious tone, Sanada may have questioned the sincerity of his question. Despite Atobe’s great show of self confidence, Sanada also knew most of that was a part of the persona people expected of him and there were things even he felt insecure about.

 “Sure I do,” he said simply.

 “We’ve been on ten date now and you haven’t even tried to touch me. At first I thought you were just a prude but now—”

 “You think I’m not attracted to you” He finished his sentence. Sanada’s mouth twitched before he burst out laughing at the absurdity of the scenario.

 “It’s not funny!” But even Atobe could not help being affected by Sanada’s booming laughter. The laughter died in his throat when he saw Sanada gaze at him in a way he had never done before. He stepped back a little only to hit the bench with the back of his knees and fall back onto the hard surface. Two arms landed on either side of his head, trapping him beneath a piercing gaze.

 “Is this better?” Sanada asked in a husky tone.

 “Much.” Atobe felt his throat dry. Looking up at him beneath a seductive gaze, he reached up to kiss Sanada fully on the lips. The lip lock was intense and left little to the imagination.

 “Le’s go back to my mansion,” he shot Sanada a heated gaze, taking him by the hand.

 “Atobe” He pulled back for a moment. “Everything I said before. That still stands.” Sanada’s voice was stern but not unkind.

 “Idiot, you think too much.”

 Sex with Atobe was like dancing a tango, an exhilarating and passionate affair. Atobe had no hesitation as he came onto him like there was nothing else the boy wanted better. Sanada could tell by the adoration in his eyes, as Atobe kissed down the length of his body that he were not entirely honest about treating this as a casual affair. Still, Sanada did not have the high morals to put an end to it and so they fell deeper into the messy affair.

 Atobe had a strong and graceful build whereas Yukimura was slender, more willowy. Atobe’s skin carried the scent of salt and musk while Yukimura always smelt like the flowers after the rain. Atobe’s hair was sleek, perfected coiffed. Yukimura’s was soft and fell in loose waves. Atobe’s grey eyes smoldered with lust and desire whereas Yukimura’s gaze had always been soft and carefully restrained. They were different in nearly every aspect. And as he whispered Atobe’s name, reaching climax within the deepest depths of the other boy’s body, he could not help thinking of those differences.

 The exhausted boy beneath him buried into his chest and quickly fell into a deep and dreamless slumber. Sanada pulled the blankets over them, knowing it was going to be another sleepless night.

It did not take long for the word about Atobe and Sanada’s relationship to spread throughout the districts. For one, Atobe was not the typical Japanese man and flaunted their relationship every chance he had with flowers and lavish presents delivered to school. For another, it was nearly impossible for Sanada to cover up the marks of their love making when his team was in the locker rooms.

 The first time Kirihara had noticed, his eyes grew so impossibly wide, Renji had to take him aside and educate him on the topics of early development.

 Sanada was not blind and realized the motivation behind Atobe’s obvious markings were to send a message to the team and especially Yukimura. However it was Renji who was most disapproving. He was unwilling to even be in the same room as Sanada for more than a few minutes. Shocked by the broken relationship of the “inseparable Troika”, the whole team entered the nationals in low morals. Plagued by loneliness s and frustration, Sanada found comfort from the person who was the root of such troubles.

 “Mind if I sit here?” asked Yukimura with a familiar smile. Sanada had taken to eating outside in the schoolyard, away from the chatter and distraction of everyone else.

 “Sure” he said gruffly. It was the first time they were speaking alone since what happened that fateful day. The other boy sat down next to him.

 “How are you?” Yukimura asked with a hint of hesitation.

 “I’m fine,” Sanada lied through his teeth.  

 “I’m happy to hear that.” A pause. “Sanada please remember that Renji and I are still your friends. Nothing changes that.”

 “I doubt Renji will agree.”

 “He’s only angry that you walked away from him. He really missed you,” he added thoughtfully.

 “You have too much faith,” said Sanada. “You’ll be disappointed if you keep this up.” They both knew the topic was not about Renji any more.

 Sanada started suddenly, “Aren’t you going to ask?”  Yukimura does not ask for clarification. There was no need for pretense between the two of them.

 “Do you not mind in the slightest that I fucked Atobe so soon after confessing to you?” Yukimura flinched at his coarse language.

 “Your relationship with Atobe is none of my concerns.” His eyes glimmered coldly like carved gems.

 “No I suppose not, I mean nothing more to you than a means to an end.” Sanada knew his words were unfair but he could not help himself from hurling them.

 “I’ll still play my best, don’t worry. You’re not the only person who want to win the national championship title.” Though his heart pounded painfully, he felt a hollow sort of satisfaction upon seeing the pain flash across Yukimura’s face. He stormed off without a second glance back. Only later would he realize that Yukimura never answered his question.

  So divided the three of them were, Sanada was unsurprised at the outcome of the third national championship. What surprised him the most was that it had been Yukimura’s loss, which decided the final outcome. Once again, Sanada could not do anything as he watched the other fall from grace, not yet fully recovered and consumed by his own steadily growing feelings of worthlessness, which had taken root after his illness.

 Unwilling to be shaken off again like before—when Yukimura collapsed—Sanada even broke his promise to keep a strictly captain-vice captain relationship with the other.

 “Yukimura! You can still win this!” He screamed with emotion. Shaken out of his reverie, the other fixed him with a look to show he understood.

 Barely managing to return Ryoma’s split shot, Yukimura could not get in position in time for the return.

 “Echizen Ryoma, 6 games to 4” The stands exploded in applause. It was over. Rikkaidai would not succeed in its bid for a third consecutive win.

Keeping a facade of cool indifference, Sanada struggled to ignore the gaping feeling in his stomach as he told Kirihara off for bursting into tears. He handed a towel to Yukimura in a gesture of reconciliation. The other boy accepted more than readily, giving him a sweet smile in return. Renji joined them by the side. And though nothing was really resolved, the three of them were friends again, realizing anything else would require too much effort.

 The three of them would continue playing tennis in high school and dominate every court they stepped foot in. Yukimura, once again, became the high school tennis team captain, building an even more formidable team than the one they had.

 Three years passed by quickly, too quickly. And yet some things were still the same. Time had softened all of them, rounding out the harsh edges, which had once caused so much pain. Sanada and Atobe were still together and everyone had become so accustomed to the two of them they do not remember a time it was otherwise.

 Before they knew it, they were receiving their diplomas from Rikkaidai’s high school principle. All Sanada remembers is a flurry of tears and embraces all around him as he realized something very important was changing and the significance of which he could not truly comprehend yet.

 “Cheers! Here’s to the real world,” said Yagyuu. People all around started clinking glasses together in celebration. The Rikkai tennis team had gathered together at a local Izakaya to celebrate the graduation of the best tennis team in the school’s history.

 “Not fair, Senpai’s are all leaving me behind,” croaked Kirihara, struggling to fight back tears. The years of development had Kirihara into a polished and formidable tennis player. And he had never lacked heart. Yukimura knew he would fill in his role as captain more than adequately.

 “Oh yeah, I forgot you weren’t a senior. Take care of the other little ones Akaya, won’t you,” said Marui, nonchalantly. Kirihara gave him a death glare and popped his bubble so it exploded all over his face. Meanwhile the Troika was watching the rest of the team in quite amusement.

 “I really will miss all this,” said Renji quietly.

 “Won’t you play in college at all?” asked Yukimura.

 “Probably not, I will be too busy with school.” It was not too surprising. With graduation looming, most people had to make hard decisions about the courses of their lives. Renji’s decision was to set aside tennis for his academic career. For Sanada, there was no question. Offers had come in from multiple colleges all offering full tuition and a prestigious position on their first division tennis team.

 “Sanada, you never told us. Which college did you decide on?” Renji asked. The other boy shifted uncomfortably. Atobe had proposed they play abroad in Europe. They were both good enough to play pro and skip university. Sanada had wanted to shoot him down immediately. Europe was so far away from Japan from Yukimura and everything he knew all his life. After much convincing from Atobe, he promised to think about it.

 “Actually, I was thinking about playing pro.”

 “That’s amazing. You’ll do really great.” Yukimura smiled at him with such pride and happiness, making it that much harder to bear. Renji and Yukimura both congratulated him wholeheartedly. They knew it had always been his dream.

 “You better tell me when your first game is. I’ll definitely come watch,” said Yukimura, nudging him playfully.

 “Well, that would be near impossible.” Renji and Yukimura shared a startled glance.

 “Why?”

 “It will be abroad I’ll be competing all over the world.” Renji frowned.

 “Why all over? Why not start in Japan? It’s your home.”

 “It was a program Atobe and I were considering. Everything is covered and we’ll have best in class coaches and training programs.”  Renji’s faced turned dark at the mention of Hyoutei’s captain. Yukimura fiddled with his cup in silence.

 “I see. When will you be back?” asked Renji coldly.

 “Not for at least two years.” The cup clattered noisily on the table but the rest of the team was too caught up in the celebrations to notice.

 “Two years! What about your friends and family? Your life can’t revolve around Atobe.” Renji made no move to shield his displeasure.

 “It’s not all about Atobe. It’s about tennis.” Sanada snapped. The last thing he wanted to deal with is Renji’s disapproval with his choices and, most of all, his choice of boyfriend.

 “Say something,” Renji prodded Yukimura.

 The boy swallowed long and hard before beginning, “I think it’s a great idea Sanada. You’ve always loved tennis so this is really the best opportunity.” Sanada’s heart sunk in his chest.

 “Thank you,” he managed to say. Defeated, Renji pushed his drink away and went outside.

 “Renji,” Yukimura called after him.

 “Don’t mind him. He’s only like this because he’ll miss you.” The rest of the night passed by emptying the unending cups of sake on his table.

 Yukimura could barely support the bigger boy, exerting all his effort to bring the other into his house. His parents had politely vacated the residence, knowing it was the last time Yukimura would be able to spend quality with his team and friends after graduation.

 “Come on, Sanada. Bedroom. This way.” They managed to stumble their way through without injury. However, as they entered the room, Sanada tripped on the corner of the door, and landed in a heap of disheveled limbs on top of the other boy.

 “Ouch,” said Yukimura rubbing at his head, which had thudded hard again the floor.

 “Can you get off me? You’re kind of heavy, Sanada.” Unable to hold back anymore, Yukimura burst into soft chuckles. It was not every day you Rikkaidai’s star player drunk and uncoordinated flailing all around like this.

 Sanada most definitely did not get off. He had a serious expression as he peered almost cross-eyed in concentration into Yukimura’s face.

 “Sanada?” The atmosphere had become charged with tension. He did not respond. Instead Sanada’s expressions softened into one of wistful sadness.

 “Will you miss me?” He whispered so gently Yukimura barely made out what he was saying. The words struck a painful place in Yukimura’s heart and he found his heart throbbing painfully. In a drunken trance, Sanada towered over the other boy so their faces were barely an inch apart. Suddenly Sanada dropped his head into the other’s chest. Yukimura sat up slowly, gently cradling the other towards him in warm embrace, fingers brushing through his hair.

 Soothed by the gentle treatment, Sanada drifted into a dreamless sleep only to forget all he had said by morning. Yukimura continued to hold the other close to him, an unreadable expression on his face.

 Renji leaned against the wall of the Dojo training center, cursing himself and his two best friends inwardly. He watched Sanada practice the movements with his sword with the utmost precision and accuracy as his tennis.

 Finally, the other stopped. He wiped a droplet of sweat off his face with his shoulder. Renji kicked off the wall and walked over.

 “Nice practice there.” He said nonchalantly.

 “Renji? What are you doing here?” The other could tell by the tone in his voice he was tense over something.

 “On a plan that is highly likely to be fruitless.” Sanada raised an eyebrow. Renji let out a sigh.

 “Don’t go to the European program.” He said finally. Sanada narrowed his eyes.

 “I’m going. My mind is already made. I’ve said that very clear.” His voice was the epitome of resolve.

 “Listen to yourself. You’ve only made the choice after Yukimura said it was a good idea. Could you really leave the person, whom you have centered your life on?”

 “That may be true, but the little I can do I will. Even if I never get over my feelings, I still have the freedom to leave it all behind.”

 “With who? Atobe Keigo?” Yanagi made his disapproval clear.

 “Yes,” Sanada defended his boyfriend, “Why do you hate him so much anyways?”

 “Because though he’s arrogant, he’s insightful enough to know when to intervene and play opportunist.”

“What are you talking about?” Even after all these years, Sanada could not understand Renji’s cryptic references when he spoke like this.

 “Have you ever wondered why Seiichi was so distant with everyone, especially you, the year he fell sick?” Sanada had tried hard to keep those unhappy memories buried.  

 “I thought it was because I did not lead us to victory at the Kantou championships. He lost his trust in me”

 “Seiichi blames himself for that more than anyone else. He felt tremendous guilt for the pressure he placed on you after his illness. He saw the way you struggled to hold everything together, the desperate measures you resorted to just to keep your promise to him.”

 “Both of you are very similar. Incredibly strong and incredibly self-reliant,” Yanagi said with a touch of fondness.

 “I don’t understand.”

 “When you got with Atobe, any other friend, no matter the relationship, would have felt heavily betrayed.” Sanada’s mind raced and his heart leapt in his throat. “But Yukimura was always encouraging because he wanted to know you could be happy apart from him.”

 “I knew,” Renji injected emphatically, “Heck, even Atobe knew the only way he got with you was because Yukimura wanted it to help you.”

 “Exactly, he felt burdened by me.” Sanada thought he had hardened himself from the sensitivity but coming to the realization that the one he loved set him up with someone else twisted something deep within him. “That day I kissed him, he told me he could never love me like that.”

 “You’re wrong. Seiichi loves you. Not as a brother. More than a friend. He loves you the way you love him. That is why he wants to provide the path with the least amount of trouble for you, even if it hurts him more than anything.” Renji was speaking but the words were like noise without sound.

 “Have you wondered why he’s not told us what he’ll do after graduation? Any player with half his talent would have had his pick of sponsorships to play pro.” Renji had become curious half way through senior year, wondering why Yukimura refused to let them know a single detail about what he would do after graduation. He finally understood after getting past security to access the notes on his profiles from the sponsorship companies.

 “He was born with a ticking time bomb. The time he has is limited. Any second, he may suffer a relapse. Because of his condition, most sponsors would not take even a second glance at him. Relapse could mean a permanent paralysis or even—,” Renji’s throat closed up suddenly. The unspoken words were understood. Sanada reflected on his past conversations with Yukimura and how he had always managed to remain cryptic in responses for plans of the future.

 Before he knew it, he was dashing out the door, Renji’s indecipherable shouts ringing in his ears.

[arcanakrp-blog]

AHN JAEYONG – THE HANGED MAN. AGENT 12.

                                                   [   FILE TYPE: CLASSIFIED   ]

//: LOADING PROFILE: AHN JAEYONG ...

international age: 23 birthplace: seoul, south korea arcana: the hanged man team number: two

//: LOADING MUTATION: FEAR MANIPULATION ...

application one: phobia manifestation — perhaps the core of jaeyong’s abilities lies in the fact that he can evoke extreme fear in others by creating phobias that the target might not have had before. for example, someone could be apathetic towards spiders, but jaeyong could manipulate their brain’s fear center such that if there were spiders around, they would suddenly react with intense fear as if they’ve always had arachnophobia. often, it’s easier for him to manifest commonly known fears (heights, closed spaces, spiders, death) because most people already at least have some sort of dislike towards them, allowing him to simply elevate that dislike into a phobia.

application two: fear augmentation — as the name suggests, jaeyong’s able to amplify the amount of fear a target feels. this, of course, requires them to currently be in a state of fear. while seemingly simple, this power is perhaps his most dangerous one, the one he has most difficulty controlling (at least when he originally became part of arc). augmenting someone’s fear can, and will if he doesn’t control it, cause extreme anxiety and stress, the rapid increase and irregularity of one’s heartbeat, the shortness of breath, the temporary spike in blood pressure, and the increased likeliness of a heart-attack or, in very extreme cases, death, in that order.

as a whole, fear augmentation kicks the body’s flight-response into high gear and responds as needed until he no longer augments it. this is where control becomes important, and, for jaeyong, difficult since he feeds off and gets stronger from fear.

application three: fear empowerment — while he’s normally physically human in that he lacks superhuman strength, speed, or stamina, jaeyong can feed off of fear to temporarily become a bit stronger than he really is. the amount of strength he gains is highly dependent on the level of fear he’s feeding from (i.e. if someone’s only mildly afraid, there won’t be a noticeable difference in his strength, but if someone’s having a panic attack, the gained strength will be very clear).

but even at its greatest, he doesn’t quite gain superhuman strength, meaning he can’t lift a car or several bodies at once, but when he punches someone it will certainly feel like he’s been training as a boxer for a few months. overall, drawing from fear enhances his condition (though not to the level of the emperor), giving him more stamina and speed than he’s normally capable of, allowing him to last longer in physical fights.

overall strengths and weaknesses: — while in theory jaeyong can manifest a phobia out of thin air, it’s incredibly difficult to make a target have a phobia of something mundane or something that isn’t normally terrifying in any volume to begin with. meaning, it’s much easier for him to manifest a phobia of snakes in someone that at least has a base-level dislike of them, but it’d be much more difficult (if not impossible at this moment) for him to cause a target to have a phobia of trees.

the strength of his phobia manifestation, however, comes with the fact that he can cause a target to have some hallucinations of whatever phobia he creates. for example, if he manifests arachnophobia in someone, he can also cause them to hallucinate that there are hundreds of spiders crawling around the room, triggering their fear response. currently, this is his weakest power and he’s only able to cause basic hallucinations that have things appear, but not directly do anything to the target. moreover, hallucinations are hallucinations. if the target is aware of that everything’s an illusion, they can break out of it and the manifested phobia is thus rendered useless because the stimuli is no longer there. because of this, he typically prefers to manifest a phobia of himself, because even if the target manages to break out of the hallucinations that twist his features into something darker, cynical, almost monster-like, jaeyong himself is still there and the phobia persists.

his fear augmentation is, of course, limited in that the target must already be afraid. the augmentation is relative, so if the target’s only mildly afraid, it will take longer for him to augment the fear to the level of increasing blood pressure, but if the target’s already intensely afraid, it only takes a small amount of time before he can cause a heart attack. the range of this power is, currently, very limited. he can only augment those that are within a few feet, no more than 5, and the closer they are, the better he can augment. it is also greatly enhanced if he’s physically touching the target, but as of recent developments he no longer requires touch and can augment by intensely focusing on the target.

in theory, augmentation doesn’t require too much control to stop. it takes more focus to begin than it does to stop considering that simply requires him to, well, stop focusing. but because he feeds off fear, and because jaeyong has grown somewhat dependent, addicted even, to the strength and mental fortitude that fear gives him, sometimes he gets out of personal control and cannot stop himself until someone snaps him out. in a mission setting, this is dangerous as he’s typically meant to interrogate rather than kill. and, well, it’s difficult to interrogate someone if they’ve fainted or died.

overall, he is not wholly immune to fear, nor to his own powers. he can augment his own fear or manifest a phobia within himself, also allowing him to feed off his own fear. he was taught by the arc how to do this, but he hated the feeling, felt completely powerless despite the empowerment, and so he prefers to use others as his source. given how much he hates that feeling, he’s also now learned how to control his fear center, allowing him to, while conscious and focused, manipulate his fear response such that it appears as if he’s not afraid of anything.

again, this doesn’t mean he’s immune to it and ever since his powers manifested, he’s had nightmares every night that consists of all his greatest fears amplified three times over.

playing with fear comes with a price, after all.

//: LOADING HISTORY .. 

PRE-MUTATION

tw: suicide mention

jaeyong’s story begins before he’s even born.

picture two high school sweethearts fresh out of college because they somehow manage to pull through it together, still very much in love. picture the joy on their faces when they get married and the pregnancy test turns up positive, just as planned. picture that joy slowly draining from their faces over the years when they learn their little baby, the son that’s supposed to be their shining light is anything but. that ahn jaemin… he’s a little strange, don’t you think? it’s what everyone says, anyway. and maybe they’re right. they see the disregard for others, the eerie apathy, the way he sits silently in his little back corner desk, scribbling away until it’s time to leave. and what they don’t see are the insects he burns on his way home, the stray cats that now limp and hiss when they see his face.

his parents see everything, though, and it breaks them down. they don’t know how to deal with him, so, for the most part, they don’t. they feed him, buy him clothes and other necessities, but otherwise jaemin might as well be a stranger to them. they don’t know the first thing about their son, and the scary part is that they believe it’s better that way. it’s a terrible thing to think, that you’re better off not loving your only child, but they cope with it through alcohol and nights spent outside of the apartment.

they never plan on having another child after jaemin, why would they afterall? but life never goes as planned, and so jaeyong’s story continues after a drunken night finds his parents disappointed by the positive pregnancy test and dreading the day of his birth.

he’s a second chance for his parents, a sweet little baby boy that appears to be normal, but they’ve long lost their dream of a perfect family by then. and so he grows up with absent parents and a very present brother who plays hide and seek with him only to leave jaeyong hiding for hours and a threat that if he moves without being found first, he’ll twist his finger. five year old jaeyong doesn’t believe it at first, but after he spends one night bawling from the agonizing pain, he believes his every threat (of which there are many).

maybe if jaeyong had been his parents first and only child, he could have grown up normal. could stress out about school grades and college admissions like everyone else, but he wasn’t, so he doesn’t. he grows up anxious, weak, untrusting, and antisocial because he thinks everyone is as manipulative and terrifying as jaemin. he grows up watching the back of his closet door instead of tv, feels fear when he peaks out the little crack and sees his brother staring back with anger in his voice telling him to not look. he grows up unsure of himself, unsure of his own sanity all before he’s twelve years old because when his brother lets him get out of the closet and jaeyong swears that his bedsheets changed, or that he’s missing some clothes, or what have you, jaemin says that none of that happened, that he’s simply imagining things. the words spill out so easily, so weirdly charismatic and convincing from jaemin’s lips that jaeyong begins doubting himself and his mental stability plummets.

not that it was very stable to begin with.

at thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, jaeyong starts avoiding home when he can. he sightsees around seoul, spends afternoons at the arcade, at the park, on the rooftop of their building. he tries to create some semblance of a normal, teenage life, but even at the arcade, loss screens plummet his self-esteem; at the park, he can never escape the flashbacks of his brother saying he’ll be back with ice cream, only to be left there until dark where he got lost trying to find his way back home; and on the rooftop, he wonders what might be different now if he didn’t stop his brother from jumping off just to make jaeyong watch.

everything always goes back to jaemin. jaemin, jaemin, jaemin. and by sixteen jaeyong is sick of it. he tries to grow a backbone, tries to tell his brother to fuck off when he tries to threaten him again, only for it to backfire when jaemin follows through with his threat and burns down the hagwon nearby and pins it on jaeyong.

two people dead and one underage culprit currently being investigated, the news says. impossible, jaeyong laughs bitter while he’s at the station, because jaemin’s already of age at twenty-one then. he tries to tell them they’ve got the wrong guy, but his brother’s a wordsmith, a natural born charmer (or, in other words, a liar) who convinces the police that jaeyong’s always been a bit unstable, that it breaks his heart to rat his brother out but he definitely saw him walk into that hagwon with gasoline and lighter in hand. and just like that, jaeyong’s detained at a juvenile corrections facility.

it’s strange but he feels freer there, no longer under his brother’s thumb. it allows him to get angry, to realize he’s been manipulated this entire time, to plan for revenge when he gets out, to wish his brother dead. only, when he’s almost eighteen, just about to be released, and hears news that his brother died (suicide, they tell him), jaeyong’s heart sinks six feet under and guilt weighs heavy on him for even wishing he would die.

from there, when he’s released from corrections into court-mandated therapy sessions twice a week instead, his story changes from jaeyong’s to yong’s.

yong isn’t weak, at least not outwardly. he is charismatic, convincing, smug smiles and the idle slide of his thumb against your hand. he’s cocky despite having no reason to be, manipulative and selfish. it’s awkward at first, this transformation, and he stumbles over his lies more than he should, but not for long because it’s amazing how much one can learn when you experience something for sixteen years straight.

he replaces his guilt this way, by assuming his brother’s position. he always did envy jaemin to begin with when he wasn’t anxious out of his mind, always wanted that level of control he had, the power he wielded, the odd charm, the intensity. so he takes it all and calls it his, shows up to therapy with a smile and lies. at home, he plays with his brother’s old lighter, flicks it on and off, holds it to the end of paper and watches it burn. he’s still under surveillance, or at least he believes, so he can only be his brother so an extent. he can act like he owns the damn school and that everyone owes him, but he can’t act out on the strange desire to burn his school desk while everyone’s out at lunch, just to see what would happen.

for years, even after he’s out of high school and of age, he feels like he’s always being watched. he can never tell if it’s just paranoia, but it always hinders him, has him temporarily revert back to jaeyong the afraid.

until the meteor shower falls and yong prevails.

POST-MUTATION

the last pleasant, if one could call it that, dream yong ever has is the meteor shower one. he walks through the forest, finds a meteor, and wakes up the next day feeling a bit strange. nothing really hits him, though, until he falls asleep that night and has a terrifying nightmare that has him waking up in a cold sweat and his heart racing a mile a minute, then has another nightmare the following night, then the next, and the next, and the next…

the nightmares shake him up a bit, has his fake confidence wavering, has him paranoid and afraid of what the hell is happening, until he realizes that all the while he’s afraid, he also feels oddly powerful. he tests his instincts with a punch to the wall, and when it cracks with ease, he’s confused. 

his confusion then only heightens when a customer at the convenience store looks at him shifty-eyed and screams at him to just leave her the fuck alone, drops her stuff on the ground and runs out of the shop when he asks if she needs any help. similar incidents start occurring around him almost daily, many acting as if they’re afraid of him, some acting like they’re deathly afraid of spiders, swiping at their arms frantically as if there are a few crawling around. 

the ARC knocks at his door not too long after this, promising him answers and passing him paperwork that shows he’s no longer under government watch, that he’s no longer a patient of the therapist he’s been lying to for nearly three years by then. they offer him safety and protection in a roundabout way, as if nudging him to go nuts, to do what got him in juvie in the first place (which is hilarious, he thinks, since he did nothing). but yong sees this as his opportunity to really fulfill his brother’s shoes without worrying about getting caught, and so he packs his bags and joins them with no hesitation. 

there’s no one in seoul who will miss him, anyway.

yangyang is freeing, at least in the beginning. it is his playground. when they tell him he has fear manipulation, he almost thinks it’s hilarious because he’s spent so much of his life in fear, and developing many of them (the fear of tight spaces, fear of being forgotten, fear of getting lost, fear of jaemin, and the irrational fear of being accused of his death). and he thinks it’s even more hilarious, ironic, that he can give people hallucinations when he’s spent half of his life wondering if something really was an illusion or if jaemin was just trying to fuck with him again (to this day, he’s still never really sure). 

and maybe his powers are some joke at his expense, some reminder by the universe that he may be powerful now, but don’t forget he used to be the guy on the other side of it, the guy squirming in his seat on the brink of a panic attack. if it’s supposed to remind him of himself, it succeeds every time, but the longer he trains at yangyang, the stronger he gets, the more people he manipulates, the less it does so and the less he feels. 

perhaps it’s fitting, then, that they pair him with someone so susceptible to his manipulation. that they make him part of a team where it’s important to not feel so much remorse, or at least don’t act on it. he’s given missions that jaeyong would’ve flinched at, but yong takes with open arms and a smirk on his face when he sees the horror on everyone else’s and revels in the power, physical and mental, that it grants him. he quickly becomes addicted to that power, has failed a few too many test missions due to augmenting fear to the point of fainting, and at one time death.

he almost falters when that incident occurs, his cocky facade wavering when he tries to shake the researcher’s shoulder to no avail. but the other researchers look on with what can only be described as intrigue on their faces, he receives no punishment, no reprimand other than a warning to “at least make sure to extract all needed information from someone before augmenting them to that point, and we’ll take care of the rest. just, try not to make it frequent,” before sending him off to lunch like one of their colleagues didn’t just die before their eyes. 

and maybe this is when he reaches the point of no return. because now? he squelches jaeyong and finds it better to have no moral compass to speak of, to turn a blind eye to the fact that he’s become a monster

[allenmendezsr]

Anxiety Disorder - Blue Heron Health News

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Anxiety Disorder - Blue Heron Health News

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    I used to suffer from anxiety attacks. They were intense and they were frequent. And, in a number of ways, they nearly ruined my life.

My anxiety disorder grew steadily worse over the 16 years I suffered it. It seemed to gather strength over time…  while my ability to cope with it gradually weakened.

There honestly were times where I wondered where it would all eventually end.

Things are different now.

I don’t suffer anxiety attacks like that any more. I haven’t for nearly two years and my mental health is pretty much fully restored.

It took some time for me to finally get better.

Although, to be truthful, time was something I had plenty of.

Because 16 years of anxiety attacks – and everything that entails – wasn’t going to mind an extra few weeks of the same.

But by the time it had came to its end my anxiety had shrunk to a shadow of its former self.

I don’t miss it!

And why would I?

Any type of anxiety disorder is just plain cruel

Anxiety kicked me around emotionally, mentally and physically.

Anxiety episodes themselves were often dreadful.

Frantic, panicky, scared… Worrying about all sorts of small details, ruminating to the point of panic…

Mentally I’d go round in circles and just think myself into distress and powerlessness.

Anxiety disturbed my sleep to the point I could sometimes wake up more tired than I was when I had gone to bed. 

And, inevitably, the misery of it all slipped me into occasional depression.

Mild depression is so common for people who suffer from any kind of anxiety disorder. I simply couldn’t recall the last time I felt relaxed or at ease.

Retreating from life

I tried so hard to avoid anxiety attacks that I retreated from situations and people that might trigger them.

The problem was that for me there were so many possible triggers that I was in danger at times of becoming a recluse.

My anxiety disorder made it difficult for me to make – and sustain – friendships.

Career aspirations took a back-burner too. I had to choose work where my bosses were completely understanding.

And where me being an emotional mess all of a sudden wasn’t going to get me fired! Which does restrict your options somewhat.

Not the future I wanted

I often feared that the effect anxiety was having on my relationships might leave me lonely and without friends. I didn’t want to be lonely…

I especially worried that my ability to work and support myself would deteriorate as the condition made my mental health slowly worsen.

And the physical cost – in terms of conditions that come from ongoing, chronic stress – didn’t bear thinking about.

Because the ongoing stress of my disorder is known conclusively to lead to chronic inflammation in the body.

And with too much inflammation an anxiety sufferer becomes a prime candidate for inflammatory disease. Which includes diabetes, fatty liver, kidney disease, arthritis, heart disease and some cancers.

So as well as a deteriorating mental health outlook…physical disability was an ever-present fear.

Doubting myself

All this made me wonder about me…

What was wrong with me? Why am I like this? What must I look like to other people? What would they be thinking about me?

I really did think sometimes that I was just a ridiculous person.

I tried the usual remedies…

I did everything I could to deal with my anxiety.

Medications made some difference. They often – although not always – took the edge off the worst anxiety attacks.

I took anxiety drugs for a while during my early years of the disease. Eventually on my doctor’s advice I stopped taking them. I was glad to stop – for two reasons.

First, the side-effects of the meds were similar to my actual anxiety! Agitation, sleep problems, loss of memory, poor concentration – even some confusion at times.

Second was that meds don’t address the actual causes of the anxiety.

They only work on symptoms – so you remain ill even when you’re drugged up.

The underlying causes of anxiety remain firmly in place… forever chipping away at your chances of ever having a truly happy life.

I didn’t like putting all those drugs into my body.

And I certainly didn’t like the fact that those meds can become habit forming – which is one of the reasons doctors try to get you off them as quickly as they can.

So what next?

So, like many anxiety sufferers, that left me having to use a variety of techniques to handle my condition.

Some approaches worked from time to time. Nothing was truly reliable though.

I truly thought then that reversing the condition was impossible.

I was wrong… but that was my thinking back then when I was ill.

In the meantime I was pretty stuck. I had better days and I had really difficult days. I rarely had two better days together. After years of suffering like this my anxiety disorder was making me grow tired and despondent.

Bad news… and good news

Even though I wasn’t sure that an anxiety disorder could be successfully treated it didn’t stop me from searching for some sort of miracle cure.

The bad news is that such a thing does not exist.

There are, of course, people out there who say otherwise.

They promise they’ll get rid of all types of anxieties using a secret potion made of some secret tree root they discovered in the forests of somewhere like Panama.

Other ‘gurus’ offer remedies based on all sorts of exotic rituals and exercises. A kind of faith healing, if you like.

I tried enough of them to know that none of these approaches offer single shred of improvement to an anxiety disorder.

There’s good reason why these quirky, untested approaches didn’t work. The people offering these ‘remedies’ simply didn’t understand what anxiety actually is.

They just didn’t understand that all anxiety disorders are intricate conditions with multiple layers of complexity.

There’s not a single pill or an exercise a person can do that’s going to make it go away just like that.

To make a change to an anxiety disorder requires a deep understanding of all the strands that have tied themselves together to create that disorder in the first place.

Thinking you can cure everything with a potion or a yoga exercise is just plain wrong.

Still, the promises are made. And people like me, desperate for some relief, fell for a few of them.

But now there’s some good news. Really, really good news.

If you’re patient, gentle with yourself and willing to slowly work through science-based, research-backed activities… then your world can change.

My world definitely did change.

It changed forever. I didn’t expect it to be this good. I sometimes can hardly believe that it is!

I stumbled on all this by accident

Some years ago I attended an anxiety support group where I used to live. We met weekly and although it didn’t do much to help with my anxiety it was comforting to not be alone with the problem.

It was on a visit back to that old neighborhood that I bumped into one of the group’s members.

Well. Ex-member, to be precise.

Martin had suffered from a different disorder to me – he had OCD for years – and I remembered that he had a hellish time getting it under control.

And although I couldn’t completely understand Martin’s world – my anxiety was generalised anxiety disorder (GAD) with occasional panic attacks (just to make life interesting) – I do know he had struggled a lot.

But while I still had very bad anxiety Martin had…. nothing.

No symptoms of OCD. No stress. No depression. No nothing.

We stopped off for a coffee and he explained what had happened.

The pathway out of anxiety

In a nutshell, Martin had become so despairing of his condition that he’d tried out some natural remedies. If modern medicine couldn’t help him then perhaps alternative medicine could.

Some of the different methods he’d tried had reduced the intensity of his symptoms – which meant that he could function better.

Excited by this small progress he’d gone down the alternative health rabbit hole… and then resurfaced with what he called ‘a miracle’.

Having tried many routes Martin had found a straightforward program that gave sufferers of all types of anxiety a clear but gentle pathway out of their problem – and into repaired and restored mental health.

All anxiety disorders are improved

Martin told me the method he used worked on these types of anxiety disorder:

Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and similar types of excessive and uncontrollable worries

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and its 4 major profiles

Panic Disorder, including agoraphobia and other intense experiences of fear or emotional discomfort

Post-traumatic Stress Disorder and similar illnesses related to traumatic experiences

Social Anxiety Disorder and other debilitating social fears and anxieties

Martin explained that his condition had melted away bit by bit over time. He’d first noticed a slight lessening of the intensity of his symptoms.

And then a reduction in their frequency.

Over time, intensity and frequency reduced to… just about nothing.

I remember that at the time he was telling me all this, I think my mouth must have hung open. At times he laughed at my expression. ‘It’s true!’ he insisted. And I nearly believed him.

Of course, now I really believe him. Because I’ve had his experience with my own anxiety disorder.

How it works

Martin told me he had been introduced to an alternative health practitioner by the name of Christian Goodman.

Christian Goodman is the creator of a very successful anxiety disorder program that is producing outstanding results for many hundreds of people.

It’s this program that had changed Martin’s life so dramatically.

Now I’m a little sceptical about alternative cures. I do mostly trust doctors and the drugs companies. Not everyone does of course.

But Martin’s advice to try out Christian Goodman’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ program came at a time when I was becomng increasingly worried about both my mental and physical deterioration.

I had reached a stage where I really was prepared to try anything – and this seemed like a pretty good bet.

My route out of anxiety

Christian’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ program guided me carefully through a set of activities that I could do at home whenever I felt up to it.

As I worked through these activities over time so my anxiety gently melted away until it no longer existed.

The program was simple, straightforward and consisted of several types of activities:

Daily habits Some simple daily work that takes a few minutes but which does some of the most wonderful healing I have ever experienced

When-you-feel-like-it activities Some thinking type exercises that helped me change my relationship with myself and my condition. These were transformative…

One-off actions Simple but important things I only had to do once but which revealed really useful insights into what I was suffering

Self-care habits I didn’t know much about how to truly care for myself until I learnt it from Christian. In truth, I didn’t realize how important it was either – until I actually did it. Amongst all the small but memorable victories I enjoyed with this program I think self-care gave me the quickest release from my anxiety misery.

Action activities There are specific things you can do that over time make you healthier in the mind and body. Very simple but once I started I really didn’t want to stop. So I haven’t. Why stop doing what makes you happy?

Beginner’s nerves

I was nervous at first… starting this program itself made me anxious!

It’s almost as if my anxiety was protecting itself from me getting rid of it.

But there were two things I loved about this program.

First, was that there was no timeline for completion, no schedule that forced me to do things in a certain time.

The rate at which I adopted these changes was decided by me and how I felt about them. Sometimes I did more work, sometimes I did less.

It was like a dance… slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. Except that it was me who decided the rhythm and pace.

Second, Christian cautioned me against placing expectations on myself. Things might improve a lot one week but only a little the following week. That’s okay.

You’re only expectation should be that you will follow the program as best you can.

The rest will take care of itself.

Some of the program’s activities worked their magic at a very deep level.

So while they were very easy to do… their benefits don’t reach the surface straight away.

What I was doing was always working – I just had to be a little patient before I experienced the results.

Getting started was easy…

Christian’s plan was eye-opening and inspiring from the first page to the last.

I had suffered my anxiety disorder for 16 years and in that time I’d read books, countless articles and watched hours of videos about anxiety…

Nobody told me the things that Christian taught me.

He opened my eyes to anxiety disorder and made me understand it so much better than I ever had before.

Of course, the problem with so much exciting new information is this: how on earth do I apply all the stuff I’m learning here?

‘The End of Anxiety’ handles that question very neatly.

First of all, Christian clearly explains the route out of anxiety.

He tells you the what, the why and the how of it all.

Simple explanations, clearly made points, easy to follow logic.

But then Christian offers you a simple start-up guide so that you can quickly make the learning work for you.

You know the quick-start sheet you get with a new phone or a complicated watch? It’s like that.

You want to get started now – not next week – so you need some simple steps you can start following immediately.

His ‘How to get started’ section told me what to do now. Then what to do next. Then what to do after that.

And once I built up my own confidence in what I was doing… I did what I wanted when I wanted to do it.

So long as I regularly did something I knew my anxiety was going to lose this battle.

And it did.

The difference that made the difference

I’m not criticizing the standard medical approaches to the various forms of anxiety.

Drugs, for all their addictive qualities and unpleasant side-effects, do make some difference.

CBT can make a difference too, even if it eventually wears off for many people.

And there are various self-management techniques that help us delay an attack, reduce it – or simply survive it.

But none of these really get to the heart of what’s wrong.

None of these will ever make you better.

One thing I learned from Christian is that anxiety disorders come from a place that can be very deep within us.

It’s not like a cut on your arm or a broken bone – something that can be clearly seen, easily diagnosed and quickly fixed.

Our disorder is hidden. It’s complex, tangled.

The causes of the disorder, the way the disorder affects us, our own thinking about ourselves and our world, and the coping mechanisms we employ to cope with our difficulties…

…all these are layered into the disorder itself, making it a deeper, much less accessible problem.

They feed into each other, creating a spaghetti-like tangle of fears, negative thoughts and distress.

It’s impossible to see where one aspect of our disorders begin and another one starts.

This is where Christian’s program is so different from anything I’d experienced before.

Standard medical remedies mostly address the symptoms – the surface – of the problem.

They get us through the day – which is a vital help – but we remain ill even when we’re managing to function.

Whereas ‘The End of Anxiety’ works very gently on the underlying causes of an anxiety disorder.

It gets to the foundation of the problem… and starts wearing away that foundation.

Instead of drugging me out of my anxiety Christian works on the inside, the source of that anxiety disorder.

And once it starts doing its work then the anxiety’s causes – whatever they are for your type of anxiety – start to subside.

Not because I’d medicated them out of existence but because they had started losing their grip on my life.

They were simply losing their reason to exist.

Quick anxiety relief…

Christian understands anxiety disorders.

Certainly he understands them better than I did. I suspect he knows more about the underlying condition than even my doctors.

After all, he did in weeks what my doctors hadn’t managed to do for me in 16 years.

But he states clearly that this isn’t a quick-fix-cure.

So you can expect to still experience your anxiety for some time – even while following this program. Things will improve. Attacks will become less frequent – and less intense when they do occur.

But while you’re still getting them Christian steps you through an excellent coping strategy that will dramatically reduce the intensity and the duration of the experience.

It was a new coping method for me – I’d never heard of this particular way of getting through an attack.

It helped keep me upright when things got tough. Which meant I was generally in much better condition to continue with the gentle work of melting away my disorder.

I wish I had learnt this years ago! But better late than never, I guess…

How about you?

I don’t know how you’re suffering. You may have a different anxiety disorder to the one I used to have. Or you may simply experience the same disorder in a completely different way.

Either way, I imagine that you’ve reached a point where you just don’t want it any more.

I empathize more than you might imagine. I do know what it’s like.

Anxiety disorder has no upside. It’s a cruel affliction that simply eats away at our happiness and destroys our simple hopes for a peaceful, contented life.

We didn’t earn our anxiety disorder. We don’t deserve what happened to us. It isn’t our fault.

Yet we feel that we’re stuck with it for life, that our anxiety is as much a part of ourselves as an arm or our kidneys.

It turns out though that this simply is not the case.

As nearly a thousand people have now found out… we’re no longer helpless and anxiety doesn’t have to be a life-sentence.

With patience and the right guidance we can gently ease ourselves out of the darkness and into the light.

Christian Goodman’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ is that guidance.

And the moment I decided I wanted to heal and that I was going to take those first tiny steps towards saving myself from a life of anxiety misery… was the single best day of my life.

Because everything that is wonderful in my life now is because of the decision I made then. 

How will it be for you?

Well, you have your type of anxiety disorder. You experience it in your own unique way. So your own experience of anxiety is uniquely yours. There’s nobody else quite like you.

Which means your journey to healing might differ in some respects to mine.

The key though is that you get on that path. This is what really matters.

Once I’d decided that enough was enough – I had put myself firmly on that path.

I wanted a different kind of life.

One that was significantly calmer, more predictable, and which freed me to lead the kind of normal existence that so many other people take for granted.

And that’s my reality now.

By following Christian’s advice to the letter you present your anxiety with an irresistible healing force.

Over time, it has no option but to surrender.

Christian’s program is guaranteed

Hundreds of people have successfully used ‘The End of Anxiety’ to successfully treat their anxiety disorders. They followed the guide and allowed improvements to come in their own time.

Their lives now are nothing like their lives were before.

The change to their anxiety disorder – and therefore to their day-to-day happiness – has been quite literally transformative.

There’s no reason why it wouldn’t be exactly the same for you.

Which is why Christian offers you a complete money-back guarantee on his program.

If within 60 days purchasing ‘The End of Anxiety’ you are not completely happy with the changes to your anxiety situation so far… then you can have all your money back. No questions.

Christian makes this guarantee because he’s witnessed so very many people gain life transforming benefits from following his simple plan. Their health and happiness improves as their anxiety recedes into the background.

They are relaxed, calm and in control of their lives. They experience few – or, in most cases, absolutely no – anxiety symptoms.

I wanted to know what it felt like to live my life without an anxiety disorder. I found out. And you can too – click here and get your own copy of ‘The End of Anxiety’…

All anxiety sufferers realize in the end that if we’re going to heal then we are going to have to play an active role in that healing.

If you’ve endured anxiety for any period of time then you already know that it isn’t going to just disappear on its own.

If you do nothing… it’s yours forever.

My anxiety had a cause. Yours does too.

Your anxiety cannot withstand an approach that directly affects that cause.

It cannot resist something that gently dissolves its grip on your happiness.

Christian’s research-backed methods gradually eased anxiety out of my life.

So I know it works.

And Christian guarantees it.

If within 60 days purchasing this program you don’t agree that you’re feeling significantly better than you have done for years then you can have all your money back.

I took Christian up on this same offer a little over 2 years ago. I’m a completely changed person – and I live a much happier, stress-free life.

That can be your story too. Take charge of what’s happening to you… and then watch it change. Get ‘The End of Anxiety’ by clicking here…

There’s no end to where an anxiety disorder can take you.

Over time, a sufferer’s mental health deteriorates. If the condition isn’t addressed head-on, depression becomes significantly more likely.

That’s not all. The condition eventually undermines physical health too.

Ongoing stress – an integral part of anxiety misery – releases stress hormones into the bloodstream.

And ongoing levels of stress hormones in the body lead to inflammation and a host of related physical diseases – with diabetes, kidney and liver disease, heart disease and various immunity malfunctions being the most common.

I wasn’t going to let this happen to me. First my mental health was suffering.

And then my physical health could follow suit.

Enough was enough. I wasn’t going to wait around until my health had deteriorated to the point of no return. I didn’t want that regret hanging over my head.

Once I made my decision to heal… Christian’s program did the rest.

It was easily the best decision I have ever made.

If you’ve read this far then I believe you’ve made your decision too.

You’ve decided you’re not going to suffer like this anymore. You’ve decided you’re going to heal.

Which means you need ‘The End of Anxiety’. Click here and you can have it…

[allenmendezsr]

Anxiety Disorder - Blue Heron Health News

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/anxiety-disorder-blue-heron-health-news/

Anxiety Disorder - Blue Heron Health News

 Buy Now

    I used to suffer from anxiety attacks. They were intense and they were frequent. And, in a number of ways, they nearly ruined my life.

My anxiety disorder grew steadily worse over the 16 years I suffered it. It seemed to gather strength over time…  while my ability to cope with it gradually weakened.

There honestly were times where I wondered where it would all eventually end.

Things are different now.

I don’t suffer anxiety attacks like that any more. I haven’t for nearly two years and my mental health is pretty much fully restored.

It took some time for me to finally get better.

Although, to be truthful, time was something I had plenty of.

Because 16 years of anxiety attacks – and everything that entails – wasn’t going to mind an extra few weeks of the same.

But by the time it had came to its end my anxiety had shrunk to a shadow of its former self.

I don’t miss it!

And why would I?

Any type of anxiety disorder is just plain cruel

Anxiety kicked me around emotionally, mentally and physically.

Anxiety episodes themselves were often dreadful.

Frantic, panicky, scared… Worrying about all sorts of small details, ruminating to the point of panic…

Mentally I’d go round in circles and just think myself into distress and powerlessness.

Anxiety disturbed my sleep to the point I could sometimes wake up more tired than I was when I had gone to bed. 

And, inevitably, the misery of it all slipped me into occasional depression.

Mild depression is so common for people who suffer from any kind of anxiety disorder. I simply couldn’t recall the last time I felt relaxed or at ease.

Retreating from life

I tried so hard to avoid anxiety attacks that I retreated from situations and people that might trigger them.

The problem was that for me there were so many possible triggers that I was in danger at times of becoming a recluse.

My anxiety disorder made it difficult for me to make – and sustain – friendships.

Career aspirations took a back-burner too. I had to choose work where my bosses were completely understanding.

And where me being an emotional mess all of a sudden wasn’t going to get me fired! Which does restrict your options somewhat.

Not the future I wanted

I often feared that the effect anxiety was having on my relationships might leave me lonely and without friends. I didn’t want to be lonely…

I especially worried that my ability to work and support myself would deteriorate as the condition made my mental health slowly worsen.

And the physical cost – in terms of conditions that come from ongoing, chronic stress – didn’t bear thinking about.

Because the ongoing stress of my disorder is known conclusively to lead to chronic inflammation in the body.

And with too much inflammation an anxiety sufferer becomes a prime candidate for inflammatory disease. Which includes diabetes, fatty liver, kidney disease, arthritis, heart disease and some cancers.

So as well as a deteriorating mental health outlook…physical disability was an ever-present fear.

Doubting myself

All this made me wonder about me…

What was wrong with me? Why am I like this? What must I look like to other people? What would they be thinking about me?

I really did think sometimes that I was just a ridiculous person.

I tried the usual remedies…

I did everything I could to deal with my anxiety.

Medications made some difference. They often – although not always – took the edge off the worst anxiety attacks.

I took anxiety drugs for a while during my early years of the disease. Eventually on my doctor’s advice I stopped taking them. I was glad to stop – for two reasons.

First, the side-effects of the meds were similar to my actual anxiety! Agitation, sleep problems, loss of memory, poor concentration – even some confusion at times.

Second was that meds don’t address the actual causes of the anxiety.

They only work on symptoms – so you remain ill even when you’re drugged up.

The underlying causes of anxiety remain firmly in place… forever chipping away at your chances of ever having a truly happy life.

I didn’t like putting all those drugs into my body.

And I certainly didn’t like the fact that those meds can become habit forming – which is one of the reasons doctors try to get you off them as quickly as they can.

So what next?

So, like many anxiety sufferers, that left me having to use a variety of techniques to handle my condition.

Some approaches worked from time to time. Nothing was truly reliable though.

I truly thought then that reversing the condition was impossible.

I was wrong… but that was my thinking back then when I was ill.

In the meantime I was pretty stuck. I had better days and I had really difficult days. I rarely had two better days together. After years of suffering like this my anxiety disorder was making me grow tired and despondent.

Bad news… and good news

Even though I wasn’t sure that an anxiety disorder could be successfully treated it didn’t stop me from searching for some sort of miracle cure.

The bad news is that such a thing does not exist.

There are, of course, people out there who say otherwise.

They promise they’ll get rid of all types of anxieties using a secret potion made of some secret tree root they discovered in the forests of somewhere like Panama.

Other ‘gurus’ offer remedies based on all sorts of exotic rituals and exercises. A kind of faith healing, if you like.

I tried enough of them to know that none of these approaches offer single shred of improvement to an anxiety disorder.

There’s good reason why these quirky, untested approaches didn’t work. The people offering these ‘remedies’ simply didn’t understand what anxiety actually is.

They just didn’t understand that all anxiety disorders are intricate conditions with multiple layers of complexity.

There’s not a single pill or an exercise a person can do that’s going to make it go away just like that.

To make a change to an anxiety disorder requires a deep understanding of all the strands that have tied themselves together to create that disorder in the first place.

Thinking you can cure everything with a potion or a yoga exercise is just plain wrong.

Still, the promises are made. And people like me, desperate for some relief, fell for a few of them.

But now there’s some good news. Really, really good news.

If you’re patient, gentle with yourself and willing to slowly work through science-based, research-backed activities… then your world can change.

My world definitely did change.

It changed forever. I didn’t expect it to be this good. I sometimes can hardly believe that it is!

I stumbled on all this by accident

Some years ago I attended an anxiety support group where I used to live. We met weekly and although it didn’t do much to help with my anxiety it was comforting to not be alone with the problem.

It was on a visit back to that old neighborhood that I bumped into one of the group’s members.

Well. Ex-member, to be precise.

Martin had suffered from a different disorder to me – he had OCD for years – and I remembered that he had a hellish time getting it under control.

And although I couldn’t completely understand Martin’s world – my anxiety was generalised anxiety disorder (GAD) with occasional panic attacks (just to make life interesting) – I do know he had struggled a lot.

But while I still had very bad anxiety Martin had…. nothing.

No symptoms of OCD. No stress. No depression. No nothing.

We stopped off for a coffee and he explained what had happened.

The pathway out of anxiety

In a nutshell, Martin had become so despairing of his condition that he’d tried out some natural remedies. If modern medicine couldn’t help him then perhaps alternative medicine could.

Some of the different methods he’d tried had reduced the intensity of his symptoms – which meant that he could function better.

Excited by this small progress he’d gone down the alternative health rabbit hole… and then resurfaced with what he called ‘a miracle’.

Having tried many routes Martin had found a straightforward program that gave sufferers of all types of anxiety a clear but gentle pathway out of their problem – and into repaired and restored mental health.

All anxiety disorders are improved

Martin told me the method he used worked on these types of anxiety disorder:

Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and similar types of excessive and uncontrollable worries

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and its 4 major profiles

Panic Disorder, including agoraphobia and other intense experiences of fear or emotional discomfort

Post-traumatic Stress Disorder and similar illnesses related to traumatic experiences

Social Anxiety Disorder and other debilitating social fears and anxieties

Martin explained that his condition had melted away bit by bit over time. He’d first noticed a slight lessening of the intensity of his symptoms.

And then a reduction in their frequency.

Over time, intensity and frequency reduced to… just about nothing.

I remember that at the time he was telling me all this, I think my mouth must have hung open. At times he laughed at my expression. ‘It’s true!’ he insisted. And I nearly believed him.

Of course, now I really believe him. Because I’ve had his experience with my own anxiety disorder.

How it works

Martin told me he had been introduced to an alternative health practitioner by the name of Christian Goodman.

Christian Goodman is the creator of a very successful anxiety disorder program that is producing outstanding results for many hundreds of people.

It’s this program that had changed Martin’s life so dramatically.

Now I’m a little sceptical about alternative cures. I do mostly trust doctors and the drugs companies. Not everyone does of course.

But Martin’s advice to try out Christian Goodman’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ program came at a time when I was becomng increasingly worried about both my mental and physical deterioration.

I had reached a stage where I really was prepared to try anything – and this seemed like a pretty good bet.

My route out of anxiety

Christian’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ program guided me carefully through a set of activities that I could do at home whenever I felt up to it.

As I worked through these activities over time so my anxiety gently melted away until it no longer existed.

The program was simple, straightforward and consisted of several types of activities:

Daily habits Some simple daily work that takes a few minutes but which does some of the most wonderful healing I have ever experienced

When-you-feel-like-it activities Some thinking type exercises that helped me change my relationship with myself and my condition. These were transformative…

One-off actions Simple but important things I only had to do once but which revealed really useful insights into what I was suffering

Self-care habits I didn’t know much about how to truly care for myself until I learnt it from Christian. In truth, I didn’t realize how important it was either – until I actually did it. Amongst all the small but memorable victories I enjoyed with this program I think self-care gave me the quickest release from my anxiety misery.

Action activities There are specific things you can do that over time make you healthier in the mind and body. Very simple but once I started I really didn’t want to stop. So I haven’t. Why stop doing what makes you happy?

Beginner’s nerves

I was nervous at first… starting this program itself made me anxious!

It’s almost as if my anxiety was protecting itself from me getting rid of it.

But there were two things I loved about this program.

First, was that there was no timeline for completion, no schedule that forced me to do things in a certain time.

The rate at which I adopted these changes was decided by me and how I felt about them. Sometimes I did more work, sometimes I did less.

It was like a dance… slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. Except that it was me who decided the rhythm and pace.

Second, Christian cautioned me against placing expectations on myself. Things might improve a lot one week but only a little the following week. That’s okay.

You’re only expectation should be that you will follow the program as best you can.

The rest will take care of itself.

Some of the program’s activities worked their magic at a very deep level.

So while they were very easy to do… their benefits don’t reach the surface straight away.

What I was doing was always working – I just had to be a little patient before I experienced the results.

Getting started was easy…

Christian’s plan was eye-opening and inspiring from the first page to the last.

I had suffered my anxiety disorder for 16 years and in that time I’d read books, countless articles and watched hours of videos about anxiety…

Nobody told me the things that Christian taught me.

He opened my eyes to anxiety disorder and made me understand it so much better than I ever had before.

Of course, the problem with so much exciting new information is this: how on earth do I apply all the stuff I’m learning here?

‘The End of Anxiety’ handles that question very neatly.

First of all, Christian clearly explains the route out of anxiety.

He tells you the what, the why and the how of it all.

Simple explanations, clearly made points, easy to follow logic.

But then Christian offers you a simple start-up guide so that you can quickly make the learning work for you.

You know the quick-start sheet you get with a new phone or a complicated watch? It’s like that.

You want to get started now – not next week – so you need some simple steps you can start following immediately.

His ‘How to get started’ section told me what to do now. Then what to do next. Then what to do after that.

And once I built up my own confidence in what I was doing… I did what I wanted when I wanted to do it.

So long as I regularly did something I knew my anxiety was going to lose this battle.

And it did.

The difference that made the difference

I’m not criticizing the standard medical approaches to the various forms of anxiety.

Drugs, for all their addictive qualities and unpleasant side-effects, do make some difference.

CBT can make a difference too, even if it eventually wears off for many people.

And there are various self-management techniques that help us delay an attack, reduce it – or simply survive it.

But none of these really get to the heart of what’s wrong.

None of these will ever make you better.

One thing I learned from Christian is that anxiety disorders come from a place that can be very deep within us.

It’s not like a cut on your arm or a broken bone – something that can be clearly seen, easily diagnosed and quickly fixed.

Our disorder is hidden. It’s complex, tangled.

The causes of the disorder, the way the disorder affects us, our own thinking about ourselves and our world, and the coping mechanisms we employ to cope with our difficulties…

…all these are layered into the disorder itself, making it a deeper, much less accessible problem.

They feed into each other, creating a spaghetti-like tangle of fears, negative thoughts and distress.

It’s impossible to see where one aspect of our disorders begin and another one starts.

This is where Christian’s program is so different from anything I’d experienced before.

Standard medical remedies mostly address the symptoms – the surface – of the problem.

They get us through the day – which is a vital help – but we remain ill even when we’re managing to function.

Whereas ‘The End of Anxiety’ works very gently on the underlying causes of an anxiety disorder.

It gets to the foundation of the problem… and starts wearing away that foundation.

Instead of drugging me out of my anxiety Christian works on the inside, the source of that anxiety disorder.

And once it starts doing its work then the anxiety’s causes – whatever they are for your type of anxiety – start to subside.

Not because I’d medicated them out of existence but because they had started losing their grip on my life.

They were simply losing their reason to exist.

Quick anxiety relief…

Christian understands anxiety disorders.

Certainly he understands them better than I did. I suspect he knows more about the underlying condition than even my doctors.

After all, he did in weeks what my doctors hadn’t managed to do for me in 16 years.

But he states clearly that this isn’t a quick-fix-cure.

So you can expect to still experience your anxiety for some time – even while following this program. Things will improve. Attacks will become less frequent – and less intense when they do occur.

But while you’re still getting them Christian steps you through an excellent coping strategy that will dramatically reduce the intensity and the duration of the experience.

It was a new coping method for me – I’d never heard of this particular way of getting through an attack.

It helped keep me upright when things got tough. Which meant I was generally in much better condition to continue with the gentle work of melting away my disorder.

I wish I had learnt this years ago! But better late than never, I guess…

How about you?

I don’t know how you’re suffering. You may have a different anxiety disorder to the one I used to have. Or you may simply experience the same disorder in a completely different way.

Either way, I imagine that you’ve reached a point where you just don’t want it any more.

I empathize more than you might imagine. I do know what it’s like.

Anxiety disorder has no upside. It’s a cruel affliction that simply eats away at our happiness and destroys our simple hopes for a peaceful, contented life.

We didn’t earn our anxiety disorder. We don’t deserve what happened to us. It isn’t our fault.

Yet we feel that we’re stuck with it for life, that our anxiety is as much a part of ourselves as an arm or our kidneys.

It turns out though that this simply is not the case.

As nearly a thousand people have now found out… we’re no longer helpless and anxiety doesn’t have to be a life-sentence.

With patience and the right guidance we can gently ease ourselves out of the darkness and into the light.

Christian Goodman’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ is that guidance.

And the moment I decided I wanted to heal and that I was going to take those first tiny steps towards saving myself from a life of anxiety misery… was the single best day of my life.

Because everything that is wonderful in my life now is because of the decision I made then. 

How will it be for you?

Well, you have your type of anxiety disorder. You experience it in your own unique way. So your own experience of anxiety is uniquely yours. There’s nobody else quite like you.

Which means your journey to healing might differ in some respects to mine.

The key though is that you get on that path. This is what really matters.

Once I’d decided that enough was enough – I had put myself firmly on that path.

I wanted a different kind of life.

One that was significantly calmer, more predictable, and which freed me to lead the kind of normal existence that so many other people take for granted.

And that’s my reality now.

By following Christian’s advice to the letter you present your anxiety with an irresistible healing force.

Over time, it has no option but to surrender.

Christian’s program is guaranteed

Hundreds of people have successfully used ‘The End of Anxiety’ to successfully treat their anxiety disorders. They followed the guide and allowed improvements to come in their own time.

Their lives now are nothing like their lives were before.

The change to their anxiety disorder – and therefore to their day-to-day happiness – has been quite literally transformative.

There’s no reason why it wouldn’t be exactly the same for you.

Which is why Christian offers you a complete money-back guarantee on his program.

If within 60 days purchasing ‘The End of Anxiety’ you are not completely happy with the changes to your anxiety situation so far… then you can have all your money back. No questions.

Christian makes this guarantee because he’s witnessed so very many people gain life transforming benefits from following his simple plan. Their health and happiness improves as their anxiety recedes into the background.

They are relaxed, calm and in control of their lives. They experience few – or, in most cases, absolutely no – anxiety symptoms.

I wanted to know what it felt like to live my life without an anxiety disorder. I found out. And you can too – click here and get your own copy of ‘The End of Anxiety’…

All anxiety sufferers realize in the end that if we’re going to heal then we are going to have to play an active role in that healing.

If you’ve endured anxiety for any period of time then you already know that it isn’t going to just disappear on its own.

If you do nothing… it’s yours forever.

My anxiety had a cause. Yours does too.

Your anxiety cannot withstand an approach that directly affects that cause.

It cannot resist something that gently dissolves its grip on your happiness.

Christian’s research-backed methods gradually eased anxiety out of my life.

So I know it works.

And Christian guarantees it.

If within 60 days purchasing this program you don’t agree that you’re feeling significantly better than you have done for years then you can have all your money back.

I took Christian up on this same offer a little over 2 years ago. I’m a completely changed person – and I live a much happier, stress-free life.

That can be your story too. Take charge of what’s happening to you… and then watch it change. Get ‘The End of Anxiety’ by clicking here…

There’s no end to where an anxiety disorder can take you.

Over time, a sufferer’s mental health deteriorates. If the condition isn’t addressed head-on, depression becomes significantly more likely.

That’s not all. The condition eventually undermines physical health too.

Ongoing stress – an integral part of anxiety misery – releases stress hormones into the bloodstream.

And ongoing levels of stress hormones in the body lead to inflammation and a host of related physical diseases – with diabetes, kidney and liver disease, heart disease and various immunity malfunctions being the most common.

I wasn’t going to let this happen to me. First my mental health was suffering.

And then my physical health could follow suit.

Enough was enough. I wasn’t going to wait around until my health had deteriorated to the point of no return. I didn’t want that regret hanging over my head.

Once I made my decision to heal… Christian’s program did the rest.

It was easily the best decision I have ever made.

If you’ve read this far then I believe you’ve made your decision too.

You’ve decided you’re not going to suffer like this anymore. You’ve decided you’re going to heal.

Which means you need ‘The End of Anxiety’. Click here and you can have it…

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Anxiety Disorder - Blue Heron Health News

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Anxiety Disorder - Blue Heron Health News

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    I used to suffer from anxiety attacks. They were intense and they were frequent. And, in a number of ways, they nearly ruined my life.

My anxiety disorder grew steadily worse over the 16 years I suffered it. It seemed to gather strength over time…  while my ability to cope with it gradually weakened.

There honestly were times where I wondered where it would all eventually end.

Things are different now.

I don’t suffer anxiety attacks like that any more. I haven’t for nearly two years and my mental health is pretty much fully restored.

It took some time for me to finally get better.

Although, to be truthful, time was something I had plenty of.

Because 16 years of anxiety attacks – and everything that entails – wasn’t going to mind an extra few weeks of the same.

But by the time it had came to its end my anxiety had shrunk to a shadow of its former self.

I don’t miss it!

And why would I?

Any type of anxiety disorder is just plain cruel

Anxiety kicked me around emotionally, mentally and physically.

Anxiety episodes themselves were often dreadful.

Frantic, panicky, scared… Worrying about all sorts of small details, ruminating to the point of panic…

Mentally I’d go round in circles and just think myself into distress and powerlessness.

Anxiety disturbed my sleep to the point I could sometimes wake up more tired than I was when I had gone to bed. 

And, inevitably, the misery of it all slipped me into occasional depression.

Mild depression is so common for people who suffer from any kind of anxiety disorder. I simply couldn’t recall the last time I felt relaxed or at ease.

Retreating from life

I tried so hard to avoid anxiety attacks that I retreated from situations and people that might trigger them.

The problem was that for me there were so many possible triggers that I was in danger at times of becoming a recluse.

My anxiety disorder made it difficult for me to make – and sustain – friendships.

Career aspirations took a back-burner too. I had to choose work where my bosses were completely understanding.

And where me being an emotional mess all of a sudden wasn’t going to get me fired! Which does restrict your options somewhat.

Not the future I wanted

I often feared that the effect anxiety was having on my relationships might leave me lonely and without friends. I didn’t want to be lonely…

I especially worried that my ability to work and support myself would deteriorate as the condition made my mental health slowly worsen.

And the physical cost – in terms of conditions that come from ongoing, chronic stress – didn’t bear thinking about.

Because the ongoing stress of my disorder is known conclusively to lead to chronic inflammation in the body.

And with too much inflammation an anxiety sufferer becomes a prime candidate for inflammatory disease. Which includes diabetes, fatty liver, kidney disease, arthritis, heart disease and some cancers.

So as well as a deteriorating mental health outlook…physical disability was an ever-present fear.

Doubting myself

All this made me wonder about me…

What was wrong with me? Why am I like this? What must I look like to other people? What would they be thinking about me?

I really did think sometimes that I was just a ridiculous person.

I tried the usual remedies…

I did everything I could to deal with my anxiety.

Medications made some difference. They often – although not always – took the edge off the worst anxiety attacks.

I took anxiety drugs for a while during my early years of the disease. Eventually on my doctor’s advice I stopped taking them. I was glad to stop – for two reasons.

First, the side-effects of the meds were similar to my actual anxiety! Agitation, sleep problems, loss of memory, poor concentration – even some confusion at times.

Second was that meds don’t address the actual causes of the anxiety.

They only work on symptoms – so you remain ill even when you’re drugged up.

The underlying causes of anxiety remain firmly in place… forever chipping away at your chances of ever having a truly happy life.

I didn’t like putting all those drugs into my body.

And I certainly didn’t like the fact that those meds can become habit forming – which is one of the reasons doctors try to get you off them as quickly as they can.

So what next?

So, like many anxiety sufferers, that left me having to use a variety of techniques to handle my condition.

Some approaches worked from time to time. Nothing was truly reliable though.

I truly thought then that reversing the condition was impossible.

I was wrong… but that was my thinking back then when I was ill.

In the meantime I was pretty stuck. I had better days and I had really difficult days. I rarely had two better days together. After years of suffering like this my anxiety disorder was making me grow tired and despondent.

Bad news… and good news

Even though I wasn’t sure that an anxiety disorder could be successfully treated it didn’t stop me from searching for some sort of miracle cure.

The bad news is that such a thing does not exist.

There are, of course, people out there who say otherwise.

They promise they’ll get rid of all types of anxieties using a secret potion made of some secret tree root they discovered in the forests of somewhere like Panama.

Other ‘gurus’ offer remedies based on all sorts of exotic rituals and exercises. A kind of faith healing, if you like.

I tried enough of them to know that none of these approaches offer single shred of improvement to an anxiety disorder.

There’s good reason why these quirky, untested approaches didn’t work. The people offering these ‘remedies’ simply didn’t understand what anxiety actually is.

They just didn’t understand that all anxiety disorders are intricate conditions with multiple layers of complexity.

There’s not a single pill or an exercise a person can do that’s going to make it go away just like that.

To make a change to an anxiety disorder requires a deep understanding of all the strands that have tied themselves together to create that disorder in the first place.

Thinking you can cure everything with a potion or a yoga exercise is just plain wrong.

Still, the promises are made. And people like me, desperate for some relief, fell for a few of them.

But now there’s some good news. Really, really good news.

If you’re patient, gentle with yourself and willing to slowly work through science-based, research-backed activities… then your world can change.

My world definitely did change.

It changed forever. I didn’t expect it to be this good. I sometimes can hardly believe that it is!

I stumbled on all this by accident

Some years ago I attended an anxiety support group where I used to live. We met weekly and although it didn’t do much to help with my anxiety it was comforting to not be alone with the problem.

It was on a visit back to that old neighborhood that I bumped into one of the group’s members.

Well. Ex-member, to be precise.

Martin had suffered from a different disorder to me – he had OCD for years – and I remembered that he had a hellish time getting it under control.

And although I couldn’t completely understand Martin’s world – my anxiety was generalised anxiety disorder (GAD) with occasional panic attacks (just to make life interesting) – I do know he had struggled a lot.

But while I still had very bad anxiety Martin had…. nothing.

No symptoms of OCD. No stress. No depression. No nothing.

We stopped off for a coffee and he explained what had happened.

The pathway out of anxiety

In a nutshell, Martin had become so despairing of his condition that he’d tried out some natural remedies. If modern medicine couldn’t help him then perhaps alternative medicine could.

Some of the different methods he’d tried had reduced the intensity of his symptoms – which meant that he could function better.

Excited by this small progress he’d gone down the alternative health rabbit hole… and then resurfaced with what he called ‘a miracle’.

Having tried many routes Martin had found a straightforward program that gave sufferers of all types of anxiety a clear but gentle pathway out of their problem – and into repaired and restored mental health.

All anxiety disorders are improved

Martin told me the method he used worked on these types of anxiety disorder:

Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and similar types of excessive and uncontrollable worries

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and its 4 major profiles

Panic Disorder, including agoraphobia and other intense experiences of fear or emotional discomfort

Post-traumatic Stress Disorder and similar illnesses related to traumatic experiences

Social Anxiety Disorder and other debilitating social fears and anxieties

Martin explained that his condition had melted away bit by bit over time. He’d first noticed a slight lessening of the intensity of his symptoms.

And then a reduction in their frequency.

Over time, intensity and frequency reduced to… just about nothing.

I remember that at the time he was telling me all this, I think my mouth must have hung open. At times he laughed at my expression. ‘It’s true!’ he insisted. And I nearly believed him.

Of course, now I really believe him. Because I’ve had his experience with my own anxiety disorder.

How it works

Martin told me he had been introduced to an alternative health practitioner by the name of Christian Goodman.

Christian Goodman is the creator of a very successful anxiety disorder program that is producing outstanding results for many hundreds of people.

It’s this program that had changed Martin’s life so dramatically.

Now I’m a little sceptical about alternative cures. I do mostly trust doctors and the drugs companies. Not everyone does of course.

But Martin’s advice to try out Christian Goodman’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ program came at a time when I was becomng increasingly worried about both my mental and physical deterioration.

I had reached a stage where I really was prepared to try anything – and this seemed like a pretty good bet.

My route out of anxiety

Christian’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ program guided me carefully through a set of activities that I could do at home whenever I felt up to it.

As I worked through these activities over time so my anxiety gently melted away until it no longer existed.

The program was simple, straightforward and consisted of several types of activities:

Daily habits Some simple daily work that takes a few minutes but which does some of the most wonderful healing I have ever experienced

When-you-feel-like-it activities Some thinking type exercises that helped me change my relationship with myself and my condition. These were transformative…

One-off actions Simple but important things I only had to do once but which revealed really useful insights into what I was suffering

Self-care habits I didn’t know much about how to truly care for myself until I learnt it from Christian. In truth, I didn’t realize how important it was either – until I actually did it. Amongst all the small but memorable victories I enjoyed with this program I think self-care gave me the quickest release from my anxiety misery.

Action activities There are specific things you can do that over time make you healthier in the mind and body. Very simple but once I started I really didn’t want to stop. So I haven’t. Why stop doing what makes you happy?

Beginner’s nerves

I was nervous at first… starting this program itself made me anxious!

It’s almost as if my anxiety was protecting itself from me getting rid of it.

But there were two things I loved about this program.

First, was that there was no timeline for completion, no schedule that forced me to do things in a certain time.

The rate at which I adopted these changes was decided by me and how I felt about them. Sometimes I did more work, sometimes I did less.

It was like a dance… slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. Except that it was me who decided the rhythm and pace.

Second, Christian cautioned me against placing expectations on myself. Things might improve a lot one week but only a little the following week. That’s okay.

You’re only expectation should be that you will follow the program as best you can.

The rest will take care of itself.

Some of the program’s activities worked their magic at a very deep level.

So while they were very easy to do… their benefits don’t reach the surface straight away.

What I was doing was always working – I just had to be a little patient before I experienced the results.

Getting started was easy…

Christian’s plan was eye-opening and inspiring from the first page to the last.

I had suffered my anxiety disorder for 16 years and in that time I’d read books, countless articles and watched hours of videos about anxiety…

Nobody told me the things that Christian taught me.

He opened my eyes to anxiety disorder and made me understand it so much better than I ever had before.

Of course, the problem with so much exciting new information is this: how on earth do I apply all the stuff I’m learning here?

‘The End of Anxiety’ handles that question very neatly.

First of all, Christian clearly explains the route out of anxiety.

He tells you the what, the why and the how of it all.

Simple explanations, clearly made points, easy to follow logic.

But then Christian offers you a simple start-up guide so that you can quickly make the learning work for you.

You know the quick-start sheet you get with a new phone or a complicated watch? It’s like that.

You want to get started now – not next week – so you need some simple steps you can start following immediately.

His ‘How to get started’ section told me what to do now. Then what to do next. Then what to do after that.

And once I built up my own confidence in what I was doing… I did what I wanted when I wanted to do it.

So long as I regularly did something I knew my anxiety was going to lose this battle.

And it did.

The difference that made the difference

I’m not criticizing the standard medical approaches to the various forms of anxiety.

Drugs, for all their addictive qualities and unpleasant side-effects, do make some difference.

CBT can make a difference too, even if it eventually wears off for many people.

And there are various self-management techniques that help us delay an attack, reduce it – or simply survive it.

But none of these really get to the heart of what’s wrong.

None of these will ever make you better.

One thing I learned from Christian is that anxiety disorders come from a place that can be very deep within us.

It’s not like a cut on your arm or a broken bone – something that can be clearly seen, easily diagnosed and quickly fixed.

Our disorder is hidden. It’s complex, tangled.

The causes of the disorder, the way the disorder affects us, our own thinking about ourselves and our world, and the coping mechanisms we employ to cope with our difficulties…

…all these are layered into the disorder itself, making it a deeper, much less accessible problem.

They feed into each other, creating a spaghetti-like tangle of fears, negative thoughts and distress.

It’s impossible to see where one aspect of our disorders begin and another one starts.

This is where Christian’s program is so different from anything I’d experienced before.

Standard medical remedies mostly address the symptoms – the surface – of the problem.

They get us through the day – which is a vital help – but we remain ill even when we’re managing to function.

Whereas ‘The End of Anxiety’ works very gently on the underlying causes of an anxiety disorder.

It gets to the foundation of the problem… and starts wearing away that foundation.

Instead of drugging me out of my anxiety Christian works on the inside, the source of that anxiety disorder.

And once it starts doing its work then the anxiety’s causes – whatever they are for your type of anxiety – start to subside.

Not because I’d medicated them out of existence but because they had started losing their grip on my life.

They were simply losing their reason to exist.

Quick anxiety relief…

Christian understands anxiety disorders.

Certainly he understands them better than I did. I suspect he knows more about the underlying condition than even my doctors.

After all, he did in weeks what my doctors hadn’t managed to do for me in 16 years.

But he states clearly that this isn’t a quick-fix-cure.

So you can expect to still experience your anxiety for some time – even while following this program. Things will improve. Attacks will become less frequent – and less intense when they do occur.

But while you’re still getting them Christian steps you through an excellent coping strategy that will dramatically reduce the intensity and the duration of the experience.

It was a new coping method for me – I’d never heard of this particular way of getting through an attack.

It helped keep me upright when things got tough. Which meant I was generally in much better condition to continue with the gentle work of melting away my disorder.

I wish I had learnt this years ago! But better late than never, I guess…

How about you?

I don’t know how you’re suffering. You may have a different anxiety disorder to the one I used to have. Or you may simply experience the same disorder in a completely different way.

Either way, I imagine that you’ve reached a point where you just don’t want it any more.

I empathize more than you might imagine. I do know what it’s like.

Anxiety disorder has no upside. It’s a cruel affliction that simply eats away at our happiness and destroys our simple hopes for a peaceful, contented life.

We didn’t earn our anxiety disorder. We don’t deserve what happened to us. It isn’t our fault.

Yet we feel that we’re stuck with it for life, that our anxiety is as much a part of ourselves as an arm or our kidneys.

It turns out though that this simply is not the case.

As nearly a thousand people have now found out… we’re no longer helpless and anxiety doesn’t have to be a life-sentence.

With patience and the right guidance we can gently ease ourselves out of the darkness and into the light.

Christian Goodman’s ‘The End of Anxiety’ is that guidance.

And the moment I decided I wanted to heal and that I was going to take those first tiny steps towards saving myself from a life of anxiety misery… was the single best day of my life.

Because everything that is wonderful in my life now is because of the decision I made then. 

How will it be for you?

Well, you have your type of anxiety disorder. You experience it in your own unique way. So your own experience of anxiety is uniquely yours. There’s nobody else quite like you.

Which means your journey to healing might differ in some respects to mine.

The key though is that you get on that path. This is what really matters.

Once I’d decided that enough was enough – I had put myself firmly on that path.

I wanted a different kind of life.

One that was significantly calmer, more predictable, and which freed me to lead the kind of normal existence that so many other people take for granted.

And that’s my reality now.

By following Christian’s advice to the letter you present your anxiety with an irresistible healing force.

Over time, it has no option but to surrender.

Christian’s program is guaranteed

Hundreds of people have successfully used ‘The End of Anxiety’ to successfully treat their anxiety disorders. They followed the guide and allowed improvements to come in their own time.

Their lives now are nothing like their lives were before.

The change to their anxiety disorder – and therefore to their day-to-day happiness – has been quite literally transformative.

There’s no reason why it wouldn’t be exactly the same for you.

Which is why Christian offers you a complete money-back guarantee on his program.

If within 60 days purchasing ‘The End of Anxiety’ you are not completely happy with the changes to your anxiety situation so far… then you can have all your money back. No questions.

Christian makes this guarantee because he’s witnessed so very many people gain life transforming benefits from following his simple plan. Their health and happiness improves as their anxiety recedes into the background.

They are relaxed, calm and in control of their lives. They experience few – or, in most cases, absolutely no – anxiety symptoms.

I wanted to know what it felt like to live my life without an anxiety disorder. I found out. And you can too – click here and get your own copy of ‘The End of Anxiety’…

All anxiety sufferers realize in the end that if we’re going to heal then we are going to have to play an active role in that healing.

If you’ve endured anxiety for any period of time then you already know that it isn’t going to just disappear on its own.

If you do nothing… it’s yours forever.

My anxiety had a cause. Yours does too.

Your anxiety cannot withstand an approach that directly affects that cause.

It cannot resist something that gently dissolves its grip on your happiness.

Christian’s research-backed methods gradually eased anxiety out of my life.

So I know it works.

And Christian guarantees it.

If within 60 days purchasing this program you don’t agree that you’re feeling significantly better than you have done for years then you can have all your money back.

I took Christian up on this same offer a little over 2 years ago. I’m a completely changed person – and I live a much happier, stress-free life.

That can be your story too. Take charge of what’s happening to you… and then watch it change. Get ‘The End of Anxiety’ by clicking here…

There’s no end to where an anxiety disorder can take you.

Over time, a sufferer’s mental health deteriorates. If the condition isn’t addressed head-on, depression becomes significantly more likely.

That’s not all. The condition eventually undermines physical health too.

Ongoing stress – an integral part of anxiety misery – releases stress hormones into the bloodstream.

And ongoing levels of stress hormones in the body lead to inflammation and a host of related physical diseases – with diabetes, kidney and liver disease, heart disease and various immunity malfunctions being the most common.

I wasn’t going to let this happen to me. First my mental health was suffering.

And then my physical health could follow suit.

Enough was enough. I wasn’t going to wait around until my health had deteriorated to the point of no return. I didn’t want that regret hanging over my head.

Once I made my decision to heal… Christian’s program did the rest.

It was easily the best decision I have ever made.

If you’ve read this far then I believe you’ve made your decision too.

You’ve decided you’re not going to suffer like this anymore. You’ve decided you’re going to heal.

Which means you need ‘The End of Anxiety’. Click here and you can have it…