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engagemythrusters · 2 years ago

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Okay. Watching The Bad Batch for the first time and I’ve only gotten 2/3rds of the way thru the first season thus far, but I feel I now understand the characters well enough to start making conjectures.

So here’s what I’ve got so far:

Due to the inherent Muchness of heightened senses, I wouldn’t doubt a sensory processing disorder for Hunter. It’s clear that he’s gotten a handle on it (aka learned to adapt to, compensate for, and understand it) by the time TBB appears in The Clone Wars, but I bet it was hard to deal with when he was younger.

Wrecker appears to have a developmental/learning/intellectual disability of some sort, compounded by a TBI. He struggles with bigger words and is impulsive, along with other notable markers. This could have stemmed from the accident that left the facial scar and blinded his eye, but it seems that, based on how the other three original bad batch clones act around him, that this has always been a thing. A TBI likely added to this, because he seriously just keeps getting smacked in the head, the poor guy. He’s just a walking headache.

That being said, he likely gets lots of migraines. Seriously, that much head-smacking can’t result in a fun, happy time up in his head, pain-wise. I suspect the other four get them, too. Hunter has to process a lot of information from all senses, and Crosshair from his sight. That’s a lot to deal with, and I know I get headaches from a lot less. Tech… he’s staring at screens all day. Blue-light headaches much? And Echo… he’s literally got so much going on up there, technology wise, that it’s undoubtedly the cause of many a migraine. He’s one bad interface connection from a seizure, practically.

Crosshair has some attachment issues, I think. Like I believe all the clones would, had they not been programmed otherwise. They never got held by a caring individual, for gods sake. Maybe later generations had older brothers to hold them every so often, but that’s not enough. They never got one-on-one care. And, since his programming never kicked in correctly, Crosshair has all of that just shoved into his twig body. So, RAD, due to his obviously avoidant nature.

Tech is autistic and I don’t think that’s debatable, really. Like that textbook autism (which leads to a discussion about his savant nature being paired with a highly autistic-coded character and the harmful impact that could create for us autistic people in real life. The same harm of Wrecker’s disability vs how he’s treated as an ‘it’ in the show (said explicitly by Cid) and how Crosshair, with evident attachment issues, is demonised as the villain. BUT THATS ITS OWN ESSAY TO WRITE.)

Omega has ADHD and that one’s not heavily coded like the rest, but I think it fits!

None of them have true favourite siblings, but each are easier to go to for different things. Hunter, for leadership and emotional advice. Crosshair, for silent understanding (pre-chip activation). Wrecker, for emotional understanding and grounding. Tech, for intellectual advice and rationality. Echo, for interpersonal advice. Omega, for intrapersonal advice and a fresh, new perspective on everything.

I truly believe, in my heart of hearts, that Hunter would have the highest, shrillest scream. It doesn’t make sense, but it just seems right (to me personally).

Tech and Echo spend a lot of time on Echo’s implants and prostheses. Echo clearly isn’t using them for their original intent—some not even used at all—so they have to be updated, modified, or taken out. (As evidenced by the—I’m assuming what is a—neural interface he now wears and the lack of other implants he used to have in TCW.)

Echo has chronic pain, due to phantom limbs. That, and it must take a lot out of him for those prostheses. They're melded to him in a way that seems... not user-friendly. Techno Union wasn't doing it because they wanted him to live a fulfilling life. They did it because they needed him. They wouldn't care about his pain. It's unlikely that he doesn't feel constant pain. I'm guessing his everyday average pain level it's equivalent to what normal people (i.e.: people who aren't me or other chronic pain-havers) would consider a 4 out of 10.

I have a feeling that most of them know the basics of swimming, but likely aren’t good at it—Wrecker especially. And, with all that armour, it probably wouldn’t matter if they could swim or not. That shit will absolutely sink them. Omega, once taught, would LOVE IT, though.

Crosshair would let a tooka adopt him. As in, he would let the cat follow him around. Whether or not he’d do anything for or about the tooka… I don’t know. But he’d allow it. (Wrecker would dote on the thing if it followed him. Lula and said tooka would be his best buds. He may like explosions, but he’s a sweet guy at heart!)

Echo and Crosshair have absolutely held staring contests. Asserting dominance. (Somehow, despite not having been involved in the first place, Wrecker has won at least two of them.)

Hunter has a taste for meilooruns. Tech does not.

All of them snore. Echo’s even has an electronic buzzing to it. Tech is absolutely the loudest. Omega has wished to smother them all in their sleep.

#and they’re all Māori xoxo I’m not taking the fucking whitewashing #anyway that and also I really need to do a LONG WINDED ANALYSIS on the affects of handling disability in this show #it’s got a few good things #but mostly bad #(side note: please do not feel the need to agree with all these things! these are personal. if yku reblog you can say which—#—are the ones you do agree with and ignore the rest!)#(and another side note: maybe things like the swimming one will be proved wrong—that’s okay! this is based on the data I currently have #which isn’t much bc we currently only have one full season and two eps of the next as of this point)#(so overall: take with a small grain of salt! these are my headcanons based on current information!)#star wars: the bad batch #the bad batch #tbb #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb tech #god I have to tag a bunch of shit don’t I cause I don’t know What Is The Right Tags To Use #the bad batch omega #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch tech #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch echo #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper tech #arc trooper echo

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genderqueerdykes · 2 years ago

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I'm neurodivergent (ADHD & Autism), and I have mental health issues that can make me a very sensitive person who has a hard time doing things; I've tried explaining this to people but they often still tell me I need to "contribute" by finding a job/going to school to "prove im doing something". It hurts whenever I get told this stuff cause its supposed to be for my benefit but often it makes me feel like I'm not worth anything if im not a "proper adult"? I've gotten this numerous times from family, but I just got a similar talking to from my partner and it fucking sucks not only cause now I feel like I'm on a deadline to fix my relationship but also I don't know if im allowed to feel upset at anyone? Idk many disabled people who are high needs/can't work so I don't know if im being dramatic about my ability or making excuses

hello there, apologies for the delayed reply to this

i just wanted to say from the bottom of my heart i'm very sorry people are telling you these things, especially that you need to "contribute" by getting a job or going to school- that's very shitty thinking and it's not fair to the person it's pushed on. getting a job and going to school don't inherently "contribute" to your local community, your family, and especially YOURSELF. you don't have to "Contribute" to anything but yourself, your needs, and your own life

being a "proper adult" is a social construct that people push that literally doesn't mean anything. i am 30 years old and i have never held down a job for longer than a year, nor have i paid off student debt loans. i have been homeless numerous times because of my illnesses. i have chronic fatigue, hypermobile EDS, arthritis, degenerated discs in my back, schizophrenia, autism, adhd and more and even if people have fewer conditions going on than that, i understand how disabling even 1 neurotype of health problem can be

i have days on end where i don't recover from symptoms, massive flare ups, days where i dislocate limbs, can't sleep, am in so much pain i can't lay down, can't walk, bad sensory overstims, focus issues, migraines, and a lot of other issues. being high needs isn't a "problem", it just means you need help, and every person needs help. abled people fail to understand that every person requires accommodation in one fashion or another.

needing reminder texts is an accommodation. needing bigger font is an accommodation. glasses are an accommodation. needing to be informed of something in advance is an accommodation. only drinking out of certain cups is an accommodation. everyone needs help with something.

if the people in your life are refusing you help, i'm sorry they're failing you. you don't deserve an ultimatum to fix your relationship by a certain date, that is so unfair to you, and that is conditional love- conditional love is not fair and often leaves people feeling very messed up. love should not be held behind barriers, you should not have to perform for love

i hope you're able to get into a better situation soon. people don't understand that disabled people are Disabled and no amount of "contribution to society" will make our disabilities go away. no amount of jobs will make you feel healthier, going to school will not reduce your symptoms. stress only adds to poor health, and you don't deserve to have to go through something just because other people feel you should.

i hope this helps, take care, if you have any more questions feel free to ask, stay safe out there, good luck in your situation.

#asks #answers #disability #autism #adhd

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midnight-fox-boy · 2 years ago

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For a while, it felt like I was unable to see the changes that have happened, I focused on one small thing I've wanted so badly but is taking so long to happen, and became more and more depressed..more and more dysphoric. It felt like I was being screwed over, like something is wrong with me that makes testosterone just "not work properly" for me.

I started to wonder if I should even keep trying, you know? But then something happened. My partner pointed a change I didn't notice yet and all of a sudden I started noticing so much more than I had before. I started to actually /see myself/ in the mirror.

"hey babe I noticed your hips aren't as wide and that your butt is smaller".

I froze. I was like "?? Really??" I looked in the mirror and sure enough, my figure has less of a "curve" (I'm already skinny but I did have some curvature to me). I was shocked. I didn't notice. I felt so happy. That's when I started to pay more attention. (They also noticed I'm getting booty hair lmao)

My face is narrowing out again, My stomach hair is spreading out and going up. What started as a happy trail is spreading in every direction. My leg hair is getting longer and thicker, and starting to travel down my feet. My bottom growth has started again. Things I feel like I should have noticed. But I didn't, and I think it's because I was scared.

I was so consumed with the fear that testosterone wouldn't help me very much again. After all, I was constantly battling to have my testosterone while I was on it for four years and saw very little changes except in my voice, gaining a happy trail, my face narrowing some, and bottom growth. I saw and still see so many trans guys experience changes so much faster. Growing facial hair 6 months in, and some even "passing" by the one year mark. I was so unhappy that after four years my first go-around, that I looked almost identical to how I did at 16 years old.

I suffered through insurance not wanting to do their job, I suffered through trying to figure out why IM injections were making my pelvic lymph nodes swell, I then had to try and force myself to crawl out of my depression to shower and apply gel every day, and it was so hard. I suffered through months and months of chronic pelvic pain and ovarian cyst ruptures that landed me in the ER. I suffered through horrible migraines Multiple times a month that I strongly believe was correlated to the type of birth control I was on and probably inconsistent testosterone levels. And I gave up. I was tired of the pain, of nothing happening anymore, of being miserable in my own skin but also the thing that was supposed to help me was just making me suffer more.

And now, things are actually happening and I don't know what changed. Was it the method in which we decided on? Is subQ really making a difference? Is it the change of doctor? Is it being older? I know I have to face the risk of migraines and potential pain every day... But things are actually changing now that weren't before.

And I want to cry. Both from happiness and frustration...I wonder how things would have been if we did subQ sooner, if I had a different doctor helping me, or whatever. Would I "pass" more now? Would I stop looking like I just started testosterone a few months ago?

I've fought so hard to be seen as me. I've fought so hard to advocate for myself. I've battled dysphoria, tried to ignore it, tried to reassure myself. But...all I can do now is wait and try to maintain clarity, to stop focusing on one thing that I want and watch my entire body in front of me and pay attention to it. My chest is losing mass/thicker tissue and is so much easier to bind than before.

I fought my own brain through pregnancy as I watched my stomach grow, my face round out again, my hips widen and my chest grow...I watched them grow bigger than they had ever been before and I was so unhappy with that. So scared that they wouldn't "go back". But they did, they kind of deflated actually so they're not.."thick"?

I started taking better care of myself, too (and things to help my own self confidence). I keep my face clean, I found this scrub for stretch marks to try out because "why not" and the stretch marks on my breasts are actually shrinking, my thighs that are covered in stretch marks are seeing tiny improvements. I have a whole routine with self care. I brush my teeth more, I actually floss now.

And I'm realizing more about my neurodiversity, how the choices I've made and how my neurodiversity has caused me to act irrationally. I realized my neurodiversity is the reason why I cannot handle big emotions well and why I will cry, panic, or go into crisis mode when something scares me...and that's a reason I've given people the impression of being manipulative.. they thought that my emotional reactions to emotional pain and fear were manipulation tactics or something else entirely. And no matter how hard I tried to explain myself, it came out as just such messy emotional word vomit instead of just me waiting to collect myself.. I'm using the new knowledge and realizations to better myself. To try and regulate myself better. I know I can't completely "fix" it, but I can and will continue to improve. One step at a time.

I hope I can just keep climbing up my personal mountain instead of stumbling and falling..I know I'll still stumble and fall, but I want to keep going and not let it "pause" me. Anymore.

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gogoutori · 2 years ago

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Life update ramble mostly to get my thoughts together.

I don’t think most people in my life genuinely know how sick I am... Its making me end up second guessing myself/self-gaslighting like “maybe I’m not that sick..?” or I’m somehow being over dramatic. But I’ve had several actually disabled people reassure me that I’m not crazy and this is pretty normal for ppl with chronic pain. I have head pain literally every day at some level now but I’m at max amount of meds I can take outside of starting botox as well which I really don’t want to do with my nerves already so screwy. At this point I’ve just normalized it and work around it. I’m really tired though. Thats the thing I think most people don’t get is just how much this shit takes out of you. I did not understand it. I had an educated guess being around my sister but I was not prepared to be put on my ass so much and not be able to just charge through to do things I used to anymore. It sucks and I’m trying to work through understanding it and giving myself grace. But I’m very harsh on myself by nature, so its not the easiest thing to do. On top of people not understanding the depth of how out of it I am, I feel kinda shit for how flaky I’ve been, but at the same time I need to remind myself that I’m literally not doing anything wrong. My health has to come first even if it makes others feel inconvenienced. My people pleasing side hates this lol

But I’m trying to get better at it. I didn’t officially make any New Years resolutions this year, but I’ve started to shrink my world inward since Jan and focus more on my own physical and mental health. Shutting off the news and purposely trying to focus on mostly positive things. Cutting out negativity has helped a bit cause stress is a big migraine trigger. (any heightened emotion can be, but stress and anger are easiest to tip into starting a headache that leads to a migraine) Simplifying my life to focus on happier things has been good ot my mental health too. I had a lowkey intervention with some ppl helping me realize I was far too focused on other people and their problems rather than investing in myself in a healthy way. I haven’t taken on a therapist again yet, but my last one pointed out that I have a very unkind attitude toward myself and will be far more willing to help others first before seeking help for myself, which when paired with my passive nature, I end up getting taken advantage of even if I don’t see it as that. I know this, but confronting it is awkward. Being selfish to me is buying myself nice things, now it means saying no if I don’t have energy to do something or letting myself rest.

I’ve been trying to figure out new boundaries as well. I have to get better at voicing them though. Saying no is hard and I feel like I need to justify it with a reason instead of it just being an answer. I can’t be sure my decline in health is tied to my lack of selfcare in the mental department but I’m sure it wasn’t helping.

Either way, I am on to trying to be healthier for myself this year. There are a lot of good things I’m trying! I’m investing a lot in trying to get my art stuff up and going again. I’m throwing my hat into new cons around the east coast and haven’t been flat out rejected from any yet, which is pretty uplifting seeing as my portfolio is more sparse than I want it to be. I met a lot of awesome new artists at toracon and I’m hoping to see some more artist friends if I make it into any other cons this year. I’m unapologetically into liking what I like rn. (trying not to think about what ppl think about my over tweeting art for what I like etc) I opened a DBA for my sister and I to do more collab stuff and help her take on bigger projects without it messing up her ssi. We have been brainstorming lots of fun ideas and are looking to turn part of the basement into studio space we can work out of. I’m sketching lots of new ideas for apparel designs and I will hopefully get my webcomic and store going by the summer.

A lot of the good things in the works also hinge on how my physical health is, and I’m hoping to keep that looking better as well. ;w; Once we have more stable weather it should help. I lost about 10-15lbs from sleeping through meals or being too nauseous to eat, but once we have warmer weather I want to do a morning walk and eat something more regularly. I think a more stable schedule will help out too. It just gets thrown out of whack when you have to stay in bed cause moving makes your head throb. ;w;

Writing all this down is cathartic for me in a way. like typing a little plan or update to myself. Even seeing post memories come up from past years like “I have a bad headache” reminds me I’ve been dealing with this longer than even I think I have been and I’m not crazy. This whole thing is discombobulated, but its a snapshot in my life for now.

Reminding myself to rest, that I’m not crazy, that good things are to come~

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

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RE8 Ladies + S/o with chronic pain HCs

Type/cause of chronic pain is kept ambiguous, but some of the hcs might seem geared towards migraines, since that's the main thing that I personally struggle with (and these are very definitely comfort hcs). Features Alcina, Bela, Cassandra, Daniela, Donna, Mother Miranda, and as a 'lil bonus Ava. Not particularly long, but the combined length of every character is enough to be put under a read-more (About 2,500 words in total).

Alcina:

It’s difficult for her to know that you are suffering, but be unable to deal directly with the source of the problem. Chasing off unwanted nuisances or hunting down threats to the castle was one thing, trying to solve complicated medical issues was another thing entirely. If only she could tear your condition asunder without tearing you asunder.

That being said, she’ll still support you endlessly, however she can. It doesn’t matter how expensive or hard-to-access possible treatments are. If there’s something you haven’t tried, and are interested in trying, she’ll find a way for you to get it.

The biggest, and arguably most helpful, thing that she does is set up a space for you within her office. She spends quite a lot of time there for her family’s business, but doesn’t want to leave you alone on bad days. So this was her idea of a nice compromise.

There’s a very comfortable sofa that folds out, a cabinet filled with the softest blankets, and several pillows of a few different sizes. Servants are instructed not to interrupt Alcina’s work without good reason, but she has a couple who ensure your snack cabinet is always well stocked.

If there are certain environmental factors to your condition, such as sensitivity to light and sound, she does her best to reduce their effects. Lights remain dimmed (or she’ll rely on candlelight), her music will be kept quiet enough to be soothing, and she’ll refrain from taking any calls while you are with her.

Bela:

To think that Daniela once tried to claim that Bela would “never need to know any of that (medical) stuff”! Sure, there haven’t been many people who have needed (and received) treatment from her, but that didn’t mean the skill was useless. Admittedly, she doesn’t know enough to replace one of your doctors, or try to create her own version of a cure, though no one really expected that much from her.

Still, she knows enough to help soothe your pain. Obviously there are different techniques for different kinds of pain, and she does research before trying anything specific. Bela’s also aware that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than she has, meaning that you probably wouldn’t be pleased if she came in, acted like an expert, or assumed that you hadn’t really thought about the most popular remedies. So she’s tactful with how she approaches things, always checking if you’re familiar with a subject before she tries to explain anything.

Bela ends up surprising you with a lesser-known skill of hers: Massage. Studying anatomy has given her a decent idea of the body’s more sensitive spots, and the rest she’s figured out through her own, ahem, experiences. Regardless of where you’re in pain, your girlfriend can help reduce your suffering. Okay, well, if your pain is more internal than external, it’s a bit harder for her, but she can still help you relax.

One of her favorite things to do after giving you a massage is to just pull you in close for some cuddling. Preferably you’ll be in her lap, with her arms around your waist, her chin tucked on top of your shoulder. Then she’ll do her best to whisper you praises, reminding you how strong you are, and that she’s incredibly proud of you.

Cassandra:

She’s, uh, not great at this. At least not at first. Maybe she’ll never be more than good at it, though. But she’s definitely trying! And learning! By Jove, that’s something, right?

First things first, she’s always ready to try to distract you, primarily through kisses and gentle touches. Fingers softly trailing over your skin, lips tickling your neck, featherlight in all the right places… It’s not inherently sexual (though it can quickly go that route if you ask), just intimate. It’s harder for your brain to process pain when you’re also processing pleasure, so there is some science behind Cassandra’s methods, even if she herself isn’t entirely aware of that.

While she’s not great with words, there are certain things that she manages to articulate well enough. For one, she makes sure you know that you aren’t a burden. Taking care of you- no, helping you take care of yourself- is a labor of love, if a labor at all. More than that, she knows full well that you probably don’t like feeling pitied, or coddled. That, over time, being sick ends up being beyond frustrating. She never wants you to feel like your condition defines you, or like it puts any strain on your relationship.

That said, she’ll avoid telling her family any specifics unless you do first, and ensures that the staff know how to accommodate you (without telling them why, because it’s none of their fucking business, and she’s their boss, and for fuck’s sake it’s their job to do what she tells them. Maybe she gets a lil bit overzealous with it). At no point will she ever complain about helping you, or otherwise indicate that your needs are “troublesome”.

At the end of the day, the best comfort she brings you is her presence, simply being near you, endlessly loyal, tireless in her affections. Especially considering she gets clingier the worse your symptoms get.

Daniela:

Hope you enjoy cuddling. Seriously. There’s nothing Daniela loves more than curling up with you, and that goes double for bad pain days. Some adjustments will be made position-wise if you need, but she’ll still hold you as close as possible, for as long as you need. Although she might eventually fall asleep (because damn are you comfy), she’ll play with your hair or run her fingers along your scalp until she eventually dozes off.

If you want a little more from her than light snoring, or if she feels like going above and beyond, or honestly just if she’s thinking about how much she loves you (so all the effing time), she’ll do something she’s always loved in movies/books: Reading to you! She’ll pick special books that neither of you have read before, so you can experience them together on your sick(er) days. Which does, of course, mean that it might take months to finish even a single one. Surprisingly, Daniela won’t even briefly consider reading any without you. Even if the plot is really good.

But, uh, if you wanted her to read to you on a day where you aren’t bedridden? Hell yes, my friend, she’s absolutely down for that!

On days where she’s too busy to spend hours upon hours in bed with you, or days where her ADHD is just particularly bad, she tries her best to leave you with a “substitute”. AKA a massive fucking teddy bear, in a reddish brown color, with a green bowtie. Custom ordered (The Duke did not dare tease her for it). There’s a heart stitched onto the stuffed animal’s chest, which features your first initial alongside a D for Daniela.

Additionally, she has a blanket she only brings out for you, which she periodically sprays with her favorite perfume. That way you can hold it close when she’s not around, as if you were cuddling her. For her sake, though, don’t hold the teddy bear or blanket too tightly when she is around. Homegirl here will get jealous of inanimate objects, even ones that she gave you.

Donna:

“I think I have a tea for this…” Damn right she has a tea for this. Donna has a massive garden, with dozens if not hundreds of different plants, including a variety of herbs/spices. At least one of them has to be a little helpful for you. Whether it relieves pain, helps you nap off some of your misery, or just distracts you by tasting bloody-well delicious! Besides, few things make you feel quite as loved as holding a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hands, knowing your lover made it just for you. Like a hug in a mug, it is!

Similarly to Alcina, Donna will also try to create a comfortable space for you, but isn’t likely to put it downstairs with her workshop. Instead she’ll let you take over one of the larger guest rooms, customizing it to suit your specific needs. There will be some easy to care for plants for decoration (ones that won’t mind potentially missing out on natural sunlight), a couple relaxing paintings, and a shelf near the bed with things to help you pass the time, mainly books.

Furthermore, she’ll do her best to keep you company as often as possible. She’s naturally a fairly quiet person, so you won’t have to worry about sound if that’s something you’re sensitive to. While she prefers using a sewing machine, she’ll do things by hand while you’re in pain, just to reduce the chances of you getting irritated by the sound.

Speaking of potentially irritating sounds… by god can Angie be difficult to be around when you’re ill. Thankfully, Donna is perfectly understanding of this, and, as the only person Angie ever listens to, makes sure to give the doll a stern talking to about your health. To your immense surprise, it actually works. You’re not exactly sure what was said, but Angie certainly becomes a lot more compensating afterwards. She’ll keep her antics to herself, and usually even on another side of the house from where you rest, but only for as long as you’re tucked away in your room. As soon as you set foot outside, her restraints are metaphorically removed. All hell breaks loose (as is her universe-given right as the physical embodiment of both Chaos and Entropy).

Mother Miranda:

If the two of you weren’t lovers, there’s a decent chance you would completely misinterpret her actions. She might come off as irritated, like she has bigger concerns than your health, you fragile little human. After all, she is a goddess (well, practically). But the truth is that she’s aching inside every time you have a bad pain day, knowing that (for once) she cannot cure your ailment. Maybe if she had infinite subjects with the same condition as you…

But, at the end of the day, that’s the problem. There’s only one of you. One of her beloved, her little human darling, so dangerously fragile in comparison to the scale she works on. Even with all the time in the world, which she most certainly has, she cannot cure you without taking incredible risks. With your life at stake… It is a gamble she refuses to take. You are hers, and while she hates to see you suffer, the truth is that she’ll always be selfish enough to let you endure on your own.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t help, though, just that she doesn't do a full-out experiment on you. Instead, she keeps notes. She’ll track your activities, bedtimes/when you get up, dietary habits, when you have pain, what you do to treat said pain, how effective the treatments are, etc, etc. All of this can be very useful in establishing patterns (a skill she’s gotten very good at, in her many decades of being a scientist), which can in turn lead to less pain days.

(For example, many people with migraines find that certain foods seem to trigger a migraine, or at least increase the chances of getting one. Though admittedly they don’t always end up cutting the food out of their diet. I mean, come on, you want me to give up chocolate? You want me to drink normal milk, like an adult? Kidding, kidding, I don’t have any food triggers. Nor do I particularly enjoy chocolate milk, nor do I dislike it.)

Moving on! While her work seemingly takes precedence over your condition, Miranda is not heartless, and she does do some things to lend you more direct comfort. Specifically, she tries to work in the same room as you when she can, normally while making electronic copies of physical documents, or while looking over the details of a finished experiment. She’s not always one for cuddling, so she won’t often get in bed with you during the daytime. But at night? Yes, fine, she will wrap her arms around you, maybe one of her wings too if you like how soft they are.

Just don’t think that she secretly loves every second. It’s not like she’ll spend half an hour whispering about how sweet and adorable you are as soon as you fall asleep, or anything like that. It’s twenty minutes at the most.

Bonus!Avaskian Caldwell:

“Oh, fuckin’ mood!” Followed by a solid thirty seconds of pure regret. Seriously, though, Ava has spent xer entire life (starting at age 10) dealing with chronic migraines. For a while xe also dealt with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), which meant lots of chest pain, but that (thankfully) faded as xe grew into an adult, as is fairly common with the condition. If anyone in Castle Dimitrescu understands unrelenting, unexplainable pain, it’s xer.

That being said… Ava never really managed xer chronic pain, at least not when xe was at xer worst. Xe had to drop out of school because of it. Hell, xe didn’t have a “real” job until xe was almost 23! Didn’t have a chance until things just calmed down for xer. So xe gets anxious whenever you talk about your health, worried that things are (or will at some point be) as bad for you as they were for xer. Other than that, though, you might initially think that xe doesn’t care, or didn’t understand the conversation.

Truth is, xe knows how absolutely fucking ANNOYING it can be to have to explain your health to every new person you meet (like the dozen different doctors you’ve met over the years, possibly every nurse who takes your pulse and thinks it’s a little bit high). So xe did a shit ton of research on your condition, in order to reduce how much you need to explain. Sure, xe will still have questions, and there are always aspects that only you can tell xer, but it’s a nice gesture.

As for helping you destress, xe’s pretty much a mix of Bela and Miranda. You’ll get plenty of massages (because Ava has learned from personal experience what sort of touches help with which sorts of pain), but also some scientific insight on any noticeable patterns. Lots of holding you close and telling you that you’re the coolest person in the world, and that Ava feels beyond lucky to have you.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #mother miranda x reader #oc x reader #avaskian caldwell #j has ocs #re8 village #resident evil: village #hcs

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rhapsodyramblings · 4 years ago

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Headcanons- various Pedro Pascal characters taking care of a (gender neutral) reader with bad headaches or migraines :(

Sorta kinda request from discord lol but !!

How various characters Pedro Pascal plays would react to a reader with chronic headaches/migraines

(Also uh sorry for not posting for literally like 3 years um ANYWAY- ((if you have notifs on for me I literally offer you my first born holy shit)))

Warnings: nonnneee I think

Rating: PG13

Max Lord

-He….you have to straight up tell him that you can barely move

-But once you do, he finds some painkillers as fast as he can and brings you them and some water

-When you thank him and he notices how the light makes you squint, he turns off most of them

-He grabs you a pillow or two, asking a few more times if you need anything and if the answer is yes, hops up and gets it

-He’ll sit next to you while you rest and play with your hair, quietly talking if you feel like it and not if you don’t

- If he has to do something urgently, he does it quietly

-He makes absolutely certain no one else can bother you and keeps checking on you routinely until you feel better

Din Djarin

-He...sometimes forgets how to take care of people other than himself

-So he has to relearn how to do it, though the child has helped him

-That said, he’s a little oblivious to external signs of an oncoming headache

-It’s not really until he asks you to do something on the ship and you visibly slow, squint and seem overall..weaker, that he gets what's up

-”Oh I-...nevermind, I’ll get it.”

-So he does, and in the process turns down lights and all the sound he can, keeping his movement as quiet as he would when on the tail of a target

-He rummages through one of the bigger medpacks he has and grabs a blanket from it, quietly offering it to you

-It’s unusually direct for him but after throwing you off just a tad bit, it makes you smile weakly and mutter a little thanks as you take the blanket and wrap up in it

-Even more surprising, he moves some things around as quietly as he can in a dark, quiet corner of the ship for you

-He’s had his fair share of headaches and migraines and gets it

-Looking through a mostly digital display and having sounds echo around in his helmet got to be a bit much sometimes, even after all his time wearing it

- He gently discourages the kid from poking and prodding you and explaining your situation to him

-So he leaves you alone after glancing over to make sure you were settled and lets you rest as long as you need

Agent Whiskey

-He notices how in pain u seem and kinda :(

-He’s very sweet about it and if it's gotten to the point it makes you dizzy, he’ll carry you to the nearest quiet room he can find with something comfortable to lay on

-If you’re not dizzy, he does it anyway

-Many kisses, lots

-A lot on the head

-He finds you a blanket...or two..or three if its cold

-It makes both of you smile when you mention how he’s turning you into an immoble burrito

-He’ll turn off the light and cuddle around you, either a big spoon or pulling your head to his chest to hopefully muffle more sound

-He’d gently kiss you wherever he could reach without moving too much and would quietly talk to you and try to make you laugh before you eventually fall asleep

-He stays for as long as he possibly can and if he has to leave before you wake up, makes sure you’re as comfortable as you can possibly be

Oberyn Martell

-He can tell when your first dull headaches start to come on by how you slow and groan almost too quiet to hear, rubbing your head

-He asks if you’re okay and even if you try and insist you are, he’ll gently stop you from moving around and insist you sit, persuading with some kisses and a hug from behind if necessary

-Doing his best to offer you comfort, he tucks you into his bed in a nest of pillows

-It makes him smile when you chuckle, claiming he’ll spoil you

-”If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

-When the pain starts to set in worse, he mutters his sympathy and gives you more small kisses, planting one between your eyes

-He’ll sit behind you, reading quietly and rubbing your back

-He’ll absolutely read to you if you request it

-But otherwise the quiet doesn’t bother him

-He sits with you and only slowly gets up to tell his guards to not let anyone in unless it's an absolute emergency and in that case, to call him outside his room

Javier Peña

-Chances are, he’d be at work when it starts up and you’d have to find the painkillers and make yourself comfy ;(

-But once he comes back and calls your name a little too loud, which he only discovers when he gets a groan in response, he shuts himself up and comes to find you wherever you retired

-He can guess what’s wrong because of previous times this had happened and kneels down next to you

-He quietly and gently checks on you, asking if you need anything and brushes his fingers over your cheek

-He asks what you need but when only receiving a few muffled sounds in response, he kisses your forehead and promises he’ll be back momentarily

-After he (quickly) gets his boots and other hard things off, changing clothes and cuddling up with you, he’ll make himself the big spoon

-He nuzzles into your hair and a few kisses later, you're asleep

-He curses his job silently for taking up almost all his time so he’s not able to be there when you need someone

-But he takes a moment and sighs, thankful that at the very least he is still there to take care of you after his day was over

-He silently promises to you that he’ll make it up to you with a nice bath later

-He stays awake as long as he can, rubbing your side with one hand and wrapping the other under you, cuddled up as close as he can get and thankful the comfort you offer each other is mutual

#pedro pascal #max lord #wonder woman #din djarin #din dijarin x reader #max lord x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #javier pena x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #narcos #kingsmen golden circle #x reader

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morimakesfanart · 4 years ago

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Sindria's Prophet #08

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [AO3]

** TW/suicide of family member implied (it is marked ahead with ((text)) so you know what to skip) ~POV shift Mori~ In my old life I had spent 4 or so years as a historical reenactor for the mid 1700's through early 1800's on my weekends. My group mainly acted as pirates/privateers and sang sea shanties. We had done performances on different ships, but every time we were invited onto a period ship I couldn't make it, so I was geeking out when I saw the ship we'd be taking to Sindria. I prayed it didn't show on my face. Sure it was exciting for an other world's nerd like me to get to see a ship like this in use, but to everyone else it was a normal ship. The ship had two masts -both square rigged with a fore and aft sail at the back for better steering. Considering the reputation for the waters around Sindria I expected a bigger three mast ship for strength, but who was I to judge?

With only two masts, this ship probably only needed a crew of about nine people to allow for different shifts. It didn't look like it had room for many passengers. No doubt, Sinbad didn't expect to be bringing four extra people back with him. I was in full on research mode by the time I got on the ship, and I tired my best to not stand out or get in the way. Getting to look up at the rigging from on the deck was an experience. After everyone was settled I'd definitely make a point to look around more. I might even take one of the scrolls out and try drawing the deck of the ship since I never got around to drawing that gorgeous room in the hotel. I considered myself lucky that no one tried to talk to me until the rooms were being divided out -I had been hyperfixating so I might not have even noticed if they did.

Studying the ship could only boost me for so long. About 15 minutes before we left the port I could no longer ignore that my head was throbbing from exhaustion. This headache was undeniably becoming a migraine if it wasn't one already. I decided that sleep was the next thing on my agenda. Luckily, I made that decision around the same time the rooms were being divided out. I had figured I'd end up in the same room as Alibaba, Aladdin and Morgiana, but Alibaba was put in the same room as Ja'far and Masrur. Everyone put their bags down, and headed back on deck except me. I sat on my bed with my head in my hands as I started to let myself fully calm down. In the quiet it hit me just how much I had been using working on the scrolls as a way to avoid thinking about my guilt and lost home. I'd have to find time when no one else was in the room to work through these feelings. There was no way I could keep it bottled up until we reached Sindria. "Excuse me, Miss Mori?" Aladdin had re-entered the room and closed the door. We might not have been formally introduced but he was told who I was. "What is it?" I lifted my head to look at him, and tried to keep my expression positive. I felt the waves rising. A Magi was talking to a Prophet in private; something was bound to happen. The walls of the ship creaked, and I heard steps and the floor boards creak in the hallway. The wave got a little bigger. Silence hung in the air as the boy just stood there. Instead of trying to guess what he wanted I waited. His hands tightened around his staff. Aladdin looked nervous as he confronted me. "I know you say you've read Fate, but I don't think Fate is something written in stone. It's something that everyone makes together. It can always change." The hallway floor creaked behind the Magi again. The wave was getting bigger. Someone was definitely listening in, and there was only one King that was a chronic eavesdropper.

"I agree," I said bluntly. I wanted Sinbad to hear my answer. Ten years ago, he came to the conclusion that Fate was something already written as a way to cope with his guilt and trauma, and he thought he was 'the chosen one' for being able to read ahead through the waves, but he was wrong on both accounts. "You do?” Aladdin was surprised. It must sound weird coming from someone who read Fate. "I've read more than one Fate for this world, so I know there is no one true path." The manga, anime and OVAs were a little different after all. "And if Fate couldn't be changed then I couldn't be here." I turned so I was sitting facing him. "You see, I wasn't in any of the Fate I read. I wasn't even in this world until five days ago." The magi took a few steps towards me with wide eyes. Aladdin had felt very alone for not being from this world -now he would know he wasn't the only one. It wasn't a reveal that caused problems on its own when Aladdin explained in the original so I didn't see an issue in letting Sinbad overhear about me either- I had already implied as much the previous day. I felt the need to elaborated. "Everything I do changes the Fate I read because I wasn't here. For example, only one of the Fates I read showed the conversation where you all found out about the Kou Fleet. Remember how I yelled at Alibaba? If I didn't convince him to leave then King Sinbad would have knocked him out, and Alibaba would be kept asleep with medicine for this whole trip. Since I was there this time, I was able to change that." "Oh!" He brightened up a bit. "I much prefer things this way." "I agree. Like this it will be much easier for him to heal." I looked down at my intertwined hands. "I have no idea how this will change the Fate I read though." Aladdin hummed a question mark, but he didn't say or ask anything directly. I answered the obvious question to my words, "I can't read a Fate that I'm a part of, so now that I'm here I can't read how my actions are changing Fate. Eventually, the Fate I did read will become useless, and I have no idea if I'm changing it for the better." It was only as I said it that I remembered that Sinbad was listening. I had basically just told him that my usefulness as his Prophet would have a definite expiration date. All I had wanted was to let Aladdin know that he might not be able to rely on me for everything. I definitely wasn't thinking clearly. Aladdin cut into my thoughts. "Is that why the Rukh are so active around you? Because you weren't originally a part of the Flow of Fate?" "Probably." I didn't know what else to say. I knew I had to be making distinctive waves in the Rukh just by being here, let alone with all of my changes. "Miss Mori, where are you from?" I hummed in amusement at that. "I'm from much farther away than you or your parents-if you can believe it." I was from the same world as the person who wrote the original Fate of this world. There was no way I could tell anyone that. He was shocked again. It was written all over his face that he was questioning if I was really from a dimension farther away than Alma Torran. Aladdin gripped the flute that he always wore. "Then... Are you the person he didn't recognize?" "He?" Which 'he' -oh. I lowered my voice. "Ugo?" I put one finger over my lips and looked at the door. Sinbad has to remain ignorant about the Sacred Palace; he's too self-absorbed. Aladdin looked confused at my change in volume. He followed my gaze to the door and back then nodded. He didn't look all that surprised that I knew about Ugo. I kept my voice low. "Aladdin, let's talk more about this some other time. The walls have ears on such a small ship. And I'm exhausted." "Okay. Rest well, Miss Mori." Aladdin spoke at normal volume. I heard a scramble in the hallway, the magi left, and I put my glasses in the top of my bag for safe keeping. I could hear Aladdin through the wall. "Oh! Mr. Sinbad, Mr. Ja'far, did you want to check on Miss Mori too?” "Uh, yes. How is she doing?” Was King Sinbad's response. I could hear the nerves he was trying to

cover up. "Real smooth there, Sin." I mumbled as I finally drifted into unconsciousness. --- I was a young man of 20 some years. I had started a family. We didn't have enough money for food. I ended up taking a risky job because I knew it would pay better. ... No. I'm a six year old girl? I don't remember if I had parents, but I remember going to visit this old dog every day. ... If life was hard, and I had nothing to loose then there was no reason not to bet everything I had on one last round. How could I return to my family without money? The last time I saw my son he was three. Would he even remember me? ... Ya know, when you grow up with someone and everyone else can see your chemistry you'd think it would be obvious that we'd marry when we grew up, but she met someone else. ... I knew things were bad, but I never even considered that my neighbor was stealing from me when I was at work. Bastard stabbed me with my own kitchen knife when I caught him. --- I wasn't myself in my dreams. Every time I woke I had to ground myself and remember where and when I was. Rereading the scrolls I had made helped. Just how many Rukh had merged with me, and why? I had no connections to any of those spirits while they were alive. Was it just because ghosts like me? I wrote down every dream I had; their lives might have been over, but they were a part of me now. I was too exhausted to go on deck, and I could feel that there were still more lives inside of me that I had to get aquatinted with. When I wasn't sleeping, I was working on scrolls again since I at least had enough energy to write and draw. My breathing was getting difficult, and I was struggling with temperature regulation. I wasn't okay enough to tell if it was my body struggling with the changes in my magoi, like when Sinbad took in all the Rukh after the Fall of First Sindria, or if I was just sick. After making sure I could still use magoi manipulation I decided that it was probably the later. I mainly left that room for food, and I waited until almost everyone was done before going. I avoided talking to others too. If I was sick I needed to minimize my contact with others. Alibaba seemed to be in a similar state to me. We both found that staying near each other when around the others made them less likely to approach us with the depressing cloud that hung over us.

Those that did see me could obviously tell I was unwell. From their words it seemed like they were assuming I was just mourning -they were only half wrong. It gave me an easy excuse to leave, so I never corrected them. I did feel bad for worrying everyone. The whole situation sucked. I wanted to cry. I had been in lock down back home because of Covid-19 for 8 months as an at risk person (it's still Oct 2020 in this story). I was literally in a fantasy anime world now. I wasn't given a better immune system, but my boobs didn't need a bra anymore??? WTF?? If the current arbiter of Fate was me writing fanfiction, then they had a lot of explaining to do. ... Who was I kidding? I knew why I would write something like this. I wanted to see more stories about people like me -someone with my disabilities and life experiences- get to be someone "valued" even if they couldn't be on the front lines. My migraine wouldn't go away, and it wasn't the only part of me in pain. I think I got palpitations a few times -breathing was even worse during those episodes. If I hadn't had health problems growing up I probably would have been panicking. I knew it was stupid to not tell anyone what was going on with me. But would anyone even be able help me on a ship? Telling them would just make them worry more than they already were. Aladdin and Morgiana could tell something more was wrong with me; I couldn't fully hide from them while sleeping in the same room. They must have let the others know since they gave me some pain killers at some point. It tasted awful. I'm honestly not sure how affective it was, but it did knock me out. ((Skip to the next paragraph to avoid the trigger)) At least I was left alone most of the time. I had no choice but to sit with my thoughts about Balbadd. I grew up mourning. The blood on my hands might not be the same as losing most of my loved ones back home, but it was damn similar to when I was in high school thinking "if only one of us had answered the phone that day." The Balbadd revolt would have been much worse if I wasn't there. And even if I had said something sooner there was little that could be done to actually stop Al Thamen when they had their hands so deep in that country. Even with Sinbad there to sway Fate, Al Thamen would still find a way to spill blood. Even if I told Alibaba days in advance and he tried to talk to Cassim about it, Cassim wanted nothing to do with Sinbad, so any help that came from him would be refused. Cassim was twisted around Issnan's fingers and out for blood. I did the best I could. My actions did save some people. I'd have to take solace in that. --- I woke up to something wrapped around me, almost like I was tied down. I couldn't move my legs. I gave up trying to untangle my skirt and covers from me, and just pulled the skirt out from under the cloth belt -kicking the whole mass off like a cocoon. I had put my underwear on underneath and I still had the tunic on so I wasn't left totally uncovered. Star light shown in from the window. I had slept through another day. I couldn't remember my dream. Maybe I had finally returned to having my own dreams. The other beds in the room were occupied. My head was still swimming. I felt trapped. I needed something. I heard the waves outside, and felt the waves of Fate washing over me. Their sounds called to me. Back home I had used the sounds of waves to meditate and stim regularly. I had been hearing them all this time, but I wanted to see them. I didn't bother to slip on my flip-flops as I made my way to the door, didn't even think about grabbing my glasses until I was already on deck. It had been so dark below that I couldn't see anyway, and didn't realize I wasn't wearing them. The wave of Fate I had been following lead me farther into the space. When I hit it's end, the adrenaline that had got me that far died out. The night air hit my legs and I shivered. It was colder than it was at night in Balbadd. I thought we were heading south. Did I still have a fever? The cold reminded me that I really should have put on

my shorts or something before coming out here. The tunic just barely covered me. My vision was going grey scale. This was bad. Really bad. I recognized this feeling. I was about to pass out from not being able to breathe right. I used to have fainting spells as a kid because of my weak raspatory system and needed to carry smelling salts for a few years. The last time it happened was about five years ago -I had been really sick. My head was throbbing; my heart was pounding. Guess I was sicker than I thought. I needed to focus on breathing and getting to the ground. I stumbled to the bowsprit (the pole that sticks out the front of the ship) as support. I needed to get to the ground safely before I collapsed. I'd gotten a concussion once because I didn't get down before the black out hit. A wave crashed into me from behind. If I hadn't been putting all my weight on that wooden shaft I would have been pushed over even though it wasn't a physical wave. What in the world was behind me that would cause such a wave? I removed one arm to look back as my knees started to give out. There was definitely someone there. Their color balance didn't match anything I could remember, but they were really familiar. Without my glasses I couldn't really tell anything -especially since everything was becoming different shades of black. And I already had bad night vision. The light was fading. Shapes were getting harder to discern. Even though I was breathing deeper I hadn't managed to counter the fainting spell. I was going down. I definitely fell, but it didn't feel like I fell for long enough to hit the ground. The feeling across my back was really familiar. Someone had caught me.

Sometimes I was able to stay conscious when I fainted. It was kinda like ending up in sleep paralysis but with a -20 to all sensory inputs. Seemed like this was one of those times. I couldn't hear what they were saying or see them. It was like my head was deep under water. There was a pressure on my forehead. Were they checking my temperature? When someone faints you're supposed to lay them on the ground and position them so they can breath easier. This person didn't take first aid classes or forgot or something because I was being lifted upwards instead of laid down. It was really warm and comfy though. I liked this feeling. What was it? Safe? Was that it? I hadn't felt actually safe in a long time. I certainly didn't feel safe in that house back home even after everything was over. Maybe it was the feeling of warmth and safety. Maybe it was the way the waves were moving. Maybe it was the numbness that comes with blacking out. But whatever it was had stopped the pain. With the pain gone I calmed the rest of the way. I felt my spine straighten out onto a soft surface. The warmth faded even though something was now covering my legs. I was in a bed. The cold was back without a source of warmth to leech from. I definitely had a fever if I was this cold. Damnit. I grew up with all sorts of chronic health conditions and have always gotten sick easily. Even though I was now in an anime world, I was still me. Was I going to die in this world from some common illness that was already cured back home? We might not have had a lot of money back home but I was lucky enough to get a job with usable health insurance that let me work from home during a pandemic. I could at least get medicine every time I got a normal illness. I was finally able to afford to get and keep an inhaler. Not that any of that was of use to me now. My motor functions were returning. I rolled to the side and curled into the fetal position. I had lost everything. No home. No friends or family. Who would want to look after a stranger with nothing to give back? I was doing what I could to seem worthy of the main cast, but how long would that last? The story would reach its end in five years. What would I do after that? What was the point of all of the savings I had managed to make back home if I was going to be Isekaied? I had been the main bread winner and now my family couldn't even use my savings because I hadn't left a body behind as proof that I had died. All of the thoughts and feelings I was still running from were flooding through me. I couldn't even distract myself with writing scrolls or anything. This was probably for the best. Pushing things away for much longer would be unhealthy. And if I couldn't let myself feel miserable when I was sick and alone, then when could I? I let the tears fall. I hadn't been a loud crier since I was a kid, so I was caught off guard when I could hear my own sobs. I didn't have it in me to hide any more. The bed I was on creaked but I hadn't moved. There was a new weight on the mattress.

I wasn't alone.

The concept that someone was checking on me hurt harder. I didn't grow up in a healthy environment, so now feel immense guilt when someone shows me genuine kindness. But I am also aware and recovered enough to know I deserve kindness, so the guilt always paired with an equal amount or more of relief. I felt a hand stroke my hair. They wanted to comfort me. And I wanted comfort. The waves washing over me encouraged me seek out more. I used what little strength I had to pull myself against them. Having undeniable proof that I wasn't alone and that someone cares was overwhelming. The relief made me cry harder. I'd have to thank them later. But for the time being I'd pour out as much emotion as they'd let me.

#sindria's prophet #magi prophet fanfic #king sinbad #magi sinbad #sinbad magi #sinbad x oc #sinbadxoc

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twigon0metry · 3 years ago

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Thoughts on Identity

Identity is a powerful thing. If a human does not know who they are, they are lost, anxious, sad, and restless. Throughout all of humanity, one can see a desire for purpose. Why am I here? What am I meant to do? Do I amount to anything in this gigantic world? Why was I made like this?

If one has their identity, they are stable. They feel safe. They are not threatened by other people’s ideas of who they are. There is no question as to who they are, what their existence means, and their purpose. Many people claim to have found who they really are. But how many people really feel like they’ve arrived?

People find their identities in so many things these days. They are doctors, they are artists, they are mothers and fathers. They are teens. They are male, they are female, they are nonbinary. They like men, they like women. Identity, for a human in this world, can be anything--hobbies, doings, career titles, gender, sexuality, appearance, health.

I myself, even as a Christian, struggle with identity. At it’s rawest, simplest, worldly state, I am a young cisgender, straight, woman. I am an artist. I dance. I work in retail. I am an older sister. If you were to go a little deeper than that, you’d see a lot of other very specific things. I am a young, cisgender, straight woman, but I don’t act how a lot of women are expected to act. I think I might have experienced some form of attraction to the same sex, so maybe I’m not straight? I’m an artist, but perhaps not a good one. I work in retail and I struggle a lot because I’m an introvert. I am an older sister, but I don’t even give my younger sister half of the things she deserves.

I love labels. I always have, from the time I was little and Dad stuck them on my hands for fun. I love organizing and putting things into boxes, including aspects of myself. I have an incessant need to categorize, to order, to put into place. And so does the world.

If I define myself as I have written, by the worldly standards, you can see that if you dive deeper into those statements of identity, none of them are stable. Even when it comes to my health.

I am mentally ill. I struggle with severe anxiety and Major Depressive Disorder, as well as Panic Disorder and phobia-related anxiety. I have a possible diagnosis of OCD. I am also physically ill. I have IBS-C, GERD, chronic migraine issues, and I know for sure something’s wrong with my liver and gallbladder.

People often define themselves by the biggest aspects of their lives. They define themselves by what they love the most, or what they focus on the most. They define themselves by what they think, do, feel, and perceive. For me, my health is a big aspect of my life. It affects my home life, work, social life, and my spiritual life. All you need to do is take my obsessive need to categorize and my health issues, smack them together, and there you have one of the biggest parts that I identify with, to my own folly.

And yet I am a Christian. My biggest identity definer should be God. I should focus most on the fact that I am His child. Yet, because of my broken flesh, often all I can focus on are my works and my battered body.

These things do not bring me fullness--on the contrary, they feed an ever-growing hunger. It’s like an ugly black hole that grows and grows and demands everything from me. My works are never enough, I have to do more to be good. I’m not sick enough in that specific way for a diagnosis. Or am I? The hole demands I check, so I know who I am for sure.

My story is not the only one. Thousands of people every day look for their identities in every place imaginable. Their bodies, their minds, the things they do, and the people around them. If one thing doesn’t fit just right, they look for another. And it is an endless, painful search from life to death. Everyone has that hungry black hole that demands to be filled, and yet never is.

Everything on this earth dies at some point. Stories and memories are forgotten, people die, things break and decompose. Thoughts and feelings leave, only to be replaced by something completely different. Looking at all of this, one might wonder why we people keep trying.

It is because humanity was always made for something beyond this world. Something stable that never changes. Something life-giving, something lasting. An endless source of fulfillment and joy.

When I was deep in my depression, I identified so much with this brokenness of mine that I believed I would never change. I was angry, full of walls, tears, unrest and pain. I wasn’t like other normal people, I didn’t work right. I failed all the time. I hurt people, a lot. My body made me feel like garbage most of the time. Such a thing is painful to identify with, yet it was the strongest aspect of my life.

A beautiful thing about God is that no one is too far gone for him. Something I didn’t realize at the time was that in those moments of suffering, God was looking at me with concern and compassion in His eyes. His heart hurt for me. And because of that love and concern, He reached out to me and told me that my name was not broken, it was Beloved.

Over time I started to realize what that meant. I was broken, but even more than I was broken, I was loved by God. The love He has for me is bigger than every sin I’ve committed. It’s bigger than my suffering. It’s there, just as big and beautiful as before, even when I don’t deserve it.

Slowly, over time, I’m beginning to finally understand what matters most. The more I learn about God’s love and see Him demonstrate it, the more full I feel. It is only because of God that I am here, healing, today. I am filling up. I am becoming whole. Nothing in this world can stand as an identity. And there is no identity better than one where you are unconditionally, irrevocably, completely loved.

#christianity #identity #rambles #jesus #God #faith #love #hope

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missjessefantastico · 4 years ago

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I've seen the same post about sensory issues reblogged like eight times from you. Is everything okay? I'm a little worried. It seems... stressed? Frustrated? I hope you're okay.

Hi! Thank you for your concern. I am indeed stressed and frustrated, but the things I can control are okay. However, I'm going to take this opportunity to explain why I am doing it, and I'm going to work under the assumption that you know nothing about Sanders Sides for the sake of making clear where I'm coming from.

Sanders Sides (from now on TSS) started as little goofy videos trying to explain and help resolve relatable internal conflicts such as learning new things, discovering who you are, analysing the origins of your favorite movies, etc, etc.

With time, they started to tackle more complex topics, involve bigger research, use a bigger production and became longer than 20 minutes each. No problems here from my part besides some quality concerns that have nothing to do with this and I will not talk about right now.

In the video Learning new thing about ourselves (LNTAO), a clear and timely warning due to flashing lights was emitted. By this I mean the warning was made at the very beginning of the video, it stayed on screen around five seconds in big bold letters, giving the exact timestamp of where photosensitive issues may be triggered and offered an alternate version for the clip on the description.

As an epileptic person who has ocassional photosensitive reactions myself, I was beyond happy because these kind of warnings, although necessary, are weirdly issued on time on mass media (see Incredibles 2, Into the spiderverse, Lalaland, and almost every Netflix original), even less offer alternate safe versions before health problems arise.

I saw this as a small scale big step to accessibility in media, I would give it as an example to anyone who would listen to my endless rants about the need for warnings about these effects. I still use it as an example sometimes. Because not only there was a warning and an alternate version, they were around three very light flashing sequences with appropiate spacing in a time frame of 43 seconds. It was a warning, an alternate version, and it followed the safety guidelines. One of the most amazing things I have seen in matters of seizure accessibility.

Why am I so angry then? Well, let's fast forward to the video Putting others first (POF). The link you saw me reblog so much was a compilation made by @yeet-ceit detailing every instance of potentially triggering material in regards not only of seizures, but any other sensory issue, as well as a brief explanation of why this is concerning. There was a rough 12:23 minutes of potentially triggering material in 51:09 minutes video. In other words, 23.93% of the video was damaging to people with ADHD, autism, epilepsy, chronic migraines, anxiety, etc. This video had no warning at all.

As I said, my epilepsy is ocassionally photosensitive. Only ocassionally. Yet, after five minutes of watching the episode, I couldn't remember most of it. I remember there was a song, I remember the name reveal and the angsty ending. The rest is a blur.

Memory loss is a part of some types of seizures, and seizures imply brain damage.

How did we go from the accessibility wonder that was LNTAO to memory loss on POF? I can't remember and I don't want to risk watching the video again just to understand fandom memes.

That is still NOT my main concern. TSS may be known as a @thatsthat24 youtube show, but everyone in the fandom knows that @thejoanglebook basically runs the show.

TSS would not be the main attraction of the channel without Joan's intervention. Naturally, they were asked if the next TSS will be more sensory friendly, they replied they didn't know why last video was an issue and later apologized for coming out as harsh.

I have no problem with them not knowing why it was damaging. However, I have a big problem with them not showing no signal of wanting to learn. The replies to their post went without acknowledgement and when yeet-ceit tried to give them the link to the post with the explanation the result was the same.

Why am I spamming Joan with the link now? Because I don't want any excuse for not knowing in the future. I understand they can't possibly see everything that is sent to them, but by heavens above, I can try.

#thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #thejoanglebook #sanders sides #anonSinCorbata #askjessefantastico

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moskaisley · 5 years ago

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migraine pt.3 | chronic

gif: @logan-solo

rating: mature

word count: 3k

warnings: cursing, suggestive language, fluff but also ANGST, jealous!mando aka my favorite kind

a/n: this literally took so long to write bc i basically changed the last half of this fic, but i’m rly happy with the results. there was a lot i wanted to include about life before din left, and i thought i’d put them in separate like one shots, but i figured that it would be include in the main story too. this is basically like an anime recap episode LMAO. enjoy!! thanks for the love <3

summary:

“But slowly and languidly, there was a sense of tenderness that began to bleed into the crevices of your daily lives.”

When you and the Mandalorian existed in another time, another place.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

Dreams these days never really consisted of anything new. Old memories played in your head like a holovid, both the good and the bad. Tonight, they were filled with him.

In the beginning, the two of you never really acknowledged what it was.

You fucked only a few more times after the cockpit. Business always came first, of course, and sex wasn’t a regular occurrence. But when the tension (often mixed with the adrenaline of bounty hunting) became too much to handle, you were all over each other. Most of the time, you were in either of each other’s bunks, and you only did it in the cockpit when you couldn’t bother to go down the ladder. At first, you chalked it up to strictly satisfying physical needs. With the two of you in such close quarters, it only made sense. The aftermath often involved getting dressed and cleaned up in silence. There would be an occasional joke or two, but the discussion usually steered itself towards the next mission.

But slowly and languidly, there was a sense of tenderness that began to bleed into the crevices of your daily lives. Your hands would linger on each other longer. He seemed to loosen up around you, joke around and indulge you in conversation. It was such a stark contrast to his menacing, stoic warrior demeanour he used when rounding up bounties.

Once, you found yourself too distracted and flustered to even spar with him.

“At this rate, you’ll never win a match against me,” he poked, legs straddling your waist as he pinned your arms down

“Oh, shut up,” you huffed, irritated. He had won against you using the same move, twice.

You’d never tell him, but your eyes were definitely indulging over the build of his body, imagining the way his bare muscles flexed or his lips moved against yours.

Squirming against him, you hiss, “Off, Mando.”

He chuckles and your chest tightens. I bet his real voice sounds like heaven.

“I dunno, I think I like you like this.”

He studies you under him, helmet tilting sideways watching your chest heave up and down. A wave of heat washes over you at the thought of tearing off his mask and pulling him down for a kiss. Mando lightly laughs again and you swear you’re going to fucking lose it.

“I think you like it too.”

With all your strength, you bring your knee into the small of his back, knocking him forwards as you twist to launch him off of you. After shuffling up to stand, you spin on your heels and march away, embarrassed at how he’s got you flushed and smiling like an idiot schoolgirl.

He’s still groaning in pain when he calls to you, “Done already?”

You stumble on a witty response, “You’re the worst!”

Smooth.

You weren't the only one losing their cool. Mando became a lot more defensive of you in those days; you nearly killed him once because he kept trying to cover you from blaster fire. He even started a bar fight for you.

You hated the stares you received by virtue of being around him; traveling with him always meant that being unassuming was impossible. Normally, people would avert their eyes. If you were particularly lucky, a poor soul would try and push the Mandalorian’s buttons, not realizing they’re digging their own graves. One day, however, you’d hit the jackpot when they decided to target you.

You sat across from him in a booth, patiently waiting for the quarry to pass through; you took the side facing the door while he was turned away, taking advantage of the element of surprise. Out of the corner of your eye, three drunk bumbling idiots stumbled from the opposite end of the bar. Despite your stealthy gaze, one of them locked eyes with you, and when you saw his lips curl into a disgusting smile, you knew you were in for it.

The man you saw and sauntered over to your side of the chair. His friends shuffled behind him like dogs, and he practically beamed when he saw Mando, seemingly nonchalant.

“My my, Mando! You’ve got quite the catch here,” he says, undressing you with his eyes, “Where’d he buy a thing like you, baby?”

Are you fucking serious?

You cocked an eyebrow and shot him a glare in response, but remained quiet. You turn back to your view on the door, praying to Maker that he’d leave you alone. But the man didn’t let up.

Instead, he turns to your partner inquiring,

“How good of a lay is she, huh, Mandalorian? Bet she’d be a real treat for me and my boys” his men move a little closer to corner you both, “How much to take her off your hands?”

Can a girl just exist?

“I’m not for sale,” you snarl, voice tight. A dull pain begins to echo in your temples.

“So she speaks,” Your irritation only seemed to egg him on, “C'mon darlin’ let us take care of you. I promise I’m good for it.”

Your fingers were itching towards your blades, but you were still waiting on the quarry to enter the cantina. A scene would scare him away and you would lose your money and time.

Business comes first.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Mando’s voice cut through your exchange, “Get lost, she said she’s not interested.”

“Now, that’s not what we heard, was it boys?” His men laugh in agreement behind him. His eyes turn dark as he goes to place a hand on your shoulder, “The lady can speak for herself. I think we can negotia-”

A blaster shot whizzes by your ears before you can even think to fight back against him. Mando, ever the gunslinger, shoots again towards his leg, knocking him onto the floor.

And then the whole bar descends into chaos.

Drunkards pile on top of each other as tensions crescendo; the sound of a single shot has everybody up in arms. Your migraine only grows in intensity as the situation spirals out of control. To top it off, amidst the chaos, you see the quarry a few paces away. His eyes were wide watching the shitshow before him, and in a panic, he scurried back out the door.

You’d caught him eventually, but not without traversing the entire underground marketplace that stretched under the city. By the time he was in carbonite and you were both in the cockpit, your irritation boiled over.

“Are you insane, Din?” You fumed, “When did you get so careless? We nearly lost him!”

He simply looked at you as if you knew the answer, but his silence only fueled your exasperation.

“Fine, don’t talk to me,” you grumbled, throwing your hands in the air, “I’ll be in the refresher.”

You turned to leave, but his gloved hand suddenly gripped your upper arm, spinning you into his chest. It was then that you realized how much bigger he was, dwarfing you in his arms as he rubbed the space above your elbows.

“He was gonna touch you,” Mando’s voice was low, bordering on a growl.

Oh. The air in the room shifts dramatically.

You take a shaky breath, your voice quieting down to a whisper, “And if he did?”

The gloved hands on your arms squeeze like a vice grip. Your heart swells.

“He’d have a hole in his head.”

Your expression softens before your lips spread into a sly smile. You move as close as you can, eyes boring into the black space of his visor.

“Tell me something,” you swallow hard as you gingerly move his hands to your waist and trace your fingertips over his breastplate. Mando’s breathing is ragged through his vocoder, and you relish in his excitement. You bat your eyelashes a few times before peering up at him.

“How good of a lay am I, Mandalorian?”

His fingers dig deeper into your sides before pulling you even closer, erection already stiffening against you. He groans out a response, “Let’s find out.”

There were little things that warmed your heart, too. When you were stuck in your bunk with a migraine, he never let you get up to do anything by yourself. He brought you water and food and he took extra care in opening the door so no light was let in and he wasn’t too loud. When you could tell he was dozing off in hyperspace, you forced him to go to bed. If he was particularly stubborn, you shoved him into the co-pilot’s chair and covered him with a blanket. Sometimes, if you came across a market with a few extra credits, you’d cook him a real meal, leagues better than the shitty ration packs you normally partook in.

And then, there was the first time he kissed you.

You were strolling through a bazaar before a job when you stopped at a produce stand, excitedly picking up a fuzzy white peach from the box.

“I haven’t eaten one of these since I was a teenager,” you say, bringing up it to your nose and sniffing, “They smell amazing. We should get some later.”

Much to your chagrin, the job went south that day. You were so frustrated and angry that you’d completely forgotten about it, caked in mud and grime demanding to go straight back to the Razor Crest.

Holed up in your bunk and fresh out the shower, you were clad in only a long sleeve shirt and underwear when you heard him knock. When you opened the door, you were surprised to see the fiercest hunter in the parsec standing before you with a plate of peaches from the market, sliced neatly into little wedges.

Mando sat with you on your bed as he watched you eat; you told him about how the fruit used to grow on trees in your family’s orchard in the summer. Though you acted like you were sick of them, you always ate it when you were upset. You smiled at the memory of your adolescence, silently cutting up the fruit into wedges and eating them outside during dawn, right after your first break up with some boy.

You were so caught up in the memory that you nearly jumped when Mando leaned in and took your chin in his right hand. His finger traced over the side of your lips, and your heart raced in your chest.

“Sorry, it’s just,” he uttered, “It was going to drip on your chin.”

You would’ve thought he’d lit your body on fire. Your core ached and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. When he began to pull back, it felt like instinct to grab his wrist and keep his hand near your face. You leaned into his touch, pressing a chaste kiss to his thumb.

You began to crawl across your bunk to him when he stopped you, “Wait.”

Mando stood, and closed the door and shut the lights off. Darkness enveloped you both, and you called out to him, “Din?” His voice cut through the inky dark, “Can you see anything?”

You hear him shuffle, as he stands in front of you, “I dunno, can I?”

“Y/N,” he urged, impatient.

“No, Din. I can’t see.”

And then you hear the air hiss, and metal clanging to the floor. Realization hit like a meteor crash.

He took it off.

You panic immediately.

“Din, wait! What are you doi-”

You shut up the instant his hands cup your face and his lips are on yours.

And it felt delightful, better than any kiss you’d ever had. Your eyes flutter shut as you deepen the kiss. Your arms go to wrap around his neck, and you pull him even closer, elated at the way his soft hair feels in between your fingers. You were sure that he could taste the sweet, tangy peach on your tongue. When he pulls away for air, your face feels flushed with heat and you could feel your swollen lips.

You’re in a daze, “You kissed me.”

He laughs and you hear it. His real voice. No distortion. No modulator.

“I did.”

He does sound like an angel.

“Do it again.”

When it all broke apart, it wasn’t like the steady, dawdling way you fell in love. The break was quick and it stung worse than any migraine.

“What do you think?”

You walked around the cockpit, tracing your fingers over the controls. “Why? You thinking of an upgrade?” You shoot Mando a smile. He doesn’t seem amused, “It’s nice, I guess. Smaller, though. We already have a tough time fitting together in the Razor Crest.”

You’d been on Nevarro for a few days, having finally finished your last job. Instead of going back to the Crest, however, Mando took you to a shipyard and aboard an empty cruiser. The Slipstream’s windows were big and were much cleaner, but space was still an issue even if you and Din didn’t carry much.

You turn to him expecting a response, but he only says, “Let’s go.”

“Wait, Mando,” you reach for his shoulder, “What is this about? I don’t understand. Why are we here?”

He doesn’t stop to answer, “I said, let’s go.”

You let out a huff as you followed him out of the cockpit. Ever since you landed, Mando’s behavior had flipped like a switch. Your friendly talks had been reduced to one-sided exchanges. He’d been ignoring you, cold like the beskar he donned on his back.

“Mando!”

He kept walking down the loading ramp. His terrible attitude had made your blood simmer for a while, and now it was all boiling over.

You stomp forwards, stopping at the entrance to the hull and shout.

“Din, stop!”

And he does, but he doesn’t turn around.

You’re fuming, “What is your problem? You’ve been in a shitty mood ever since we got here and frankly I-” You’re interrupted by something flying towards you, instinct having you catch in your hands. It’s a small silver device. Code sets, for what could only be the ship you’re currently standing on.

The dots begin to chaotically connect in your head, “What the hell is this?”

“It’s the -”

“No, Din. I know what this fucking thing is,” You’re seething with panic and rage as you hold up the silver box, “I mean, what are you doing?”

He only stares up at you, the mask emotionless and frigid. The reality of the situation was crashing into you like waves; you were begging to any god that this was just a fucked up nightmare. Tears were stinging in your eyes, threatening to pool and pour over.

You hated how your voice cracked, “Answer me!”

“I’m leaving you, Y/N.”

Fuck. Hearing him say it out loud made your gut wrench.

You made an audible sob; you couldn’t control it. Shuffling to the bottom of the ramp, you’re desperate to try and connect to him, bring him back to you. The questions spill from your lips.

“Why? What did I even do? What’s wrong?” You bring your hands up, cupping the sides of his helmet. You whisper through your cries, “Din, please.”

You know. You feel it in your bones. You know he feels it too.

He gently holds your wrists, “We can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t we talk about this?” You plead, “I know something’s wrong, you gotta let me in.”

“Y/N, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” he chides, pulling your hands away from his helmet. Your heart feels like it’s in freefall when he turns around to continue walking.

You try to scramble forward to pull him back but to your horror, you’re met with the barrel of a blaster. The noise that roars through your ears sounds like shattering glass. You gape at him, a mixture of shock and disbelief contorting your features. The figure that stood before you was unrecognizable. Because it wasn’t Din, the soft lover who kissed you in the dark and traced words of Mando’a into your sternum. It wasn’t even Mando, the old snarky friend who joked at how bad of a shot you were and who laughs like a complete idiot when he had one too many sips.

It was the Mandalorian, the ruthless and deadly warrior poised and ready to fire you away.

You wake up smelling peaches and blaster smoke.

Shifting to sit up against the wall behind you, you groan at the dull ache in your head and heart. Mando is here with you at the foot of the bed; you’ve memorized the way the bunk feels with or without him.

“Why are the lights off?” You ask.

“I didn’t know if you were going to wake up with a headache or not.”

Of fucking course. It drives you insane how considerate he is sometimes.

You suddenly become more alert as you remember, “Aayn’vida, where is she? Is she safe?”

He quells your anxiety immediately, “She’s safe. I took her to her family.”

“And Khan?”

“Cold.”

You feel him shove pills and a bottle of water into your hands. You took them, and as you both waited for the pain in your head to subside, he told you what happened in Jaemai. As it turns out, Aayn’vida’s mother was a doctor for many years, and she was kind enough to check on you and care for your wounds. Khan’s goon nicked your right side; no major organs were hit, but your skin was likely scarred since it was basically singed off. There was another thing, however. Mando had asked her about the constant migraines, “She said that they can happen because of stress or trauma.”

You laughed bitterly, “Well, we both know I have plenty of that.”

Silence blankets you two again. Even in the dark, you can tell when the Mandalorian is uneasy. You wait for him to confess.

“If I’d known this would’ve happened, I would’ve never asked you to come with me,” he lets out a tired sigh, “I’m sorry.”

You roll your eyes. Why is he so fucking nice?

“We’ve been through worse,” you say, a familiar feeling fluttering through your chest,

“Besides, this just means I’ve rightfully earned my 80%”

#migraine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin/reader #mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fic #baby yoda #pedro pascal #MY HEART IS POUNDING

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chrislistenstopodcasts · 4 years ago

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podcast review: archive 81

overall rating: 7.3

synopsis: this one’s a little difficult to really... sum up so i’ll split it a little bit. seasons one and two follow av nerd dan, who has recently been hired to document and organize an archive of tapes for a mysterious company- he discovers something is not quite right, and consequences ensue. season 3 seems initially completely separate from these other two, following a pair of half-siblings as they maneuver through an intricate set of esoteric rituals left to them by their shared father.

that’s... really the best i got on that. ah ha. also apparently there’s going to be a netflix show? i literally JUST found this out during a cursory google search and i’d definitely be interested in that. i think it might work better as visual media rather than audio-only.

writing: 4/10

alright, this is my biggest gripe with a81 and the only reason i have a hard time with it. the writing is definitely good, but i think it’s almost too good. i will admit i had a very difficult time following the story and kept holding out and saying “oh, maybe next season will make more sense” but honestly? it never really did. it’s incredibly obvious that the whole thing is meant to all resolve at a later point and that the threads that tie seemingly disjointed pieces together will become more prominent as the story continues on. i like to think i am not an idiot, but listening to this podcast kind of makes me feel like one. there’s a huge undercurrent of things bigger than ourselves and all that, which i definitely am a fan of, but having it constantly framed in the sense that it will always be too big for the fragile human mind to comprehend is... well, not exactly always nice. there is some incredibly interesting philosophy involved and i do love the different things the podcast does with music and our perceptions of it, but it can definitely be a bit much and doesn’t seem to be well suited to my kind of casual listening. i definitely want to give it another listen through sometime and see if maybe things change but since my main reason to listen to podcasts in the first place is to not be bored as all hell when i’m working, that might take some time. i will also say that this one first came onto my radar as a highly recommended visceral horror story and while there are definitely some scary bits and some body horror and such, it feels... very light for something that’s generally touted primarily as horror. in my own personal opinion i’d call it more a philosophical sci-fi comedy with a strong horror flavor, but this misrepresentation (for the lack of a better term) essentially meant i was also a bit disappointed from the get-go. i wanted to feel my heart race while listening and i most definitely did not get that.

in short, i really want to love this because it’s SO up my alley but i just CAN’T

acting: 8/10

okay! ripping time is over! while i was initially not impressed with some of the acting in season one (primarily dan, imho he just wasn’t quite convincing enough) that quickly turned around as more and more characters were introduced and i understood that at least for my standards, dan was an exception and not the rule. he was also stepped way up in season two and i have nothing but mad respect for that, because it essentially means i got to watch an actor grow into his role and his own right. which is pretty neat.

aside from that, there’s not really much i can say on this. the acting is mostly pretty good, no emotions or accents felt too exaggerated and it was clear that there was a fantastic focus on having a diverse cast, which i also highly applaud. without going into detail, the highlight of the acting in the podcast is a certain character that features in season two that has to display an incredible amount of range in tone and articulation and that one left me supremely impressed. well done, a81 cast.

production: 10/10

okay i’m giving this an honorary 11/10 because this is where a81 truly outdoes almost everything else i’ve listened to thus far. the sound design and editing are i n s a n e. between there being a need for lots of tape noises and distortions (which were incredibly well executed) there’s a huge amount of original music and all sorts of weird supernatural noises that really help to bring the script to life. sound effects during action scenes are well done and it’s all balanced fairly well for a good listening experience- aside from some of the occasional distortions, but that’s kind of the point of them. so no negative points for that even though it’s jarring and i definitely would not listen if i already felt a headache coming on (which, without going into too much detail, did make my initial listen through pretty difficult since i have chronic migraines)

general conclusion is a81 pretty great it’s just not entirely my thing, but god do i want it to be. i will definitely keep listening to it because i am a horrible completionist and really want to get to a point where it makes sense to me lmao

#hi! long time no see i've been in hell!#i am once again trying to write up some reviews and queue them and all that so we can have a lil more steady of a stream of content here #but ik this is like the fourth time i've said that and not done it so shrug emoji #anyway here come the actual tags #a81 #archive 81 #horror podcast #podcast review #podcast reviews #podcast recommendations #a81 fandom pls dont crucify me i still vibe with u

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cripple-cryptid · 4 years ago

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Getting To Know Me (Again)

It’s been a long time since I’ve really made a serious post that was well thought out and also like, a full update. It’s been a long time since I’ve even really just made a literal “Life Update” as well. So I guess this is a good time. I think it’s important because this blog has changed quite a bit in the past few years, and I think that I need to just make some things clear. This is probably going to get long, and heavy, but I think this is important, and I’m hoping that maybe I can help people in the future after I get this taken care of. Fair Warning: I am literally the worst at organizing this sort of thing, but I would really appreciate it if you read it the whole way through because it would mean a whole lot to me.

Hello. My name is Sava. I’m 22 years old. I’m a transmasculine Agender individual, and my preferred pronouns are They/He. Truthfully, I don’t mind other pronouns as long as they are not She/Her. I am a trans person, and I experience dysphoria. I’m planning on getting top surgery and HRT at some point in my life. I don’t know when, but I hope that it will be soon. I’m also Asexual, and Aromantic. I’m sex repulsed, and romantically indifferent. I am polyaffectionate (thanks to @aromanticpolyamory for the flag on this one, and coining the term as far as I’m aware?) and I have two partners. I love them both very much, with all my heart, even when I am an AroAce. So in summary, I’m a polyaffectionate Triple A (thank you @aro-ace-agender-space for the beautiful Triple A Pride Flag once again I literally love it to death)

I am also disabled. Mentally, and physically. I went most of my life undiagnosed, however I have been tested repeatedly for various things since I was a small child. I was always disregarded, and never got a proper diagnosis for my mental illnesses until I was 17. My physical ailments were ignored and went unnoticed until I was an adult, and I still am working towards a true understanding of what is going on. I am an amalgamation of many things, both mentally and physically, and it is a very long and frustrating process. Everything from my Depression, PTSD, and various other mental illnesses mix with my hEDS, Fibromyalgia, Chronic Migraines, and Insomnia. New symptoms are cropping up, as well as potential new problems. There are many things that make sense to me now that I look back on how I grew up. My old injuries make sense. My weird allergies make sense. Some of the things that I seemed to have inherited from my parents now make sense. But now that I’m older, I’m starting to learn. I have tools, braces, and mobility aids that make life easier. I finally decided that meds are a smart idea, so doing the responsible thing is starting to pay off. I hope.

I’m...not the same person I was when I first joined this site 10 years ago. I was innocent, misguided, selfish, manipulative, lazy, and bigoted. I did nothing to change my views, and didn’t really allow anyone to educate me on things that I did not realize were actually important. I was ableist, somehow sexist and misogynistic, and downright stupid. Despite all this, I thought I was right in all the wrong ways, and never tried to properly justify any of my points. And this is where everything changes.

I am going to put a warning here now. These are my beliefs, and If I receive any hate in my messages or in my askbox because of what I am about to say, I’m not even going to answer them. I am entitled to my opinion, and you are to yours. If I am threatened, I will report the threats. And that is that.

You are allowed to self Dx. I’m not going to say that it’s better than a professional diagnosis 100% of the time, but some people are not capable of getting a professional Dx at that point in their lives. Sometimes, it’s the start of the journey towards finding answers, and that is why I support it. You do not need dysphoria to be trans. Now mind you, I am referring to the umbrella term here. I feel that sometimes, you don’t agree with the identity that you were assigned with at birth, and that it can cause a serious disconnect. This can apply to many different identities, whether that is genderfluidity, gender neutrality, or another identity, it is not for me to say. I am not in charge of your body, you mind, and how your autonomy works. I know that people will argue with me on this, but I think the most important thing is that we all need to support each other in the community, regardless of what labels we use. It’s a journey of self discovery, and sometimes, labels change. It’s okay. I love you no matter what. Aspec People belong in the LGBT+ community. I’m not going to expand on this because I don’t have to. There is plenty of history that you can look up for yourself on the internet, and I don’t have to justify myself. Your spiritual beliefs (or lack thereof) are yours to practice, and I’m not going to shame you for them. I have my own beliefs, and I’m not going to shove them down your throat. I’m not going to tell you that you’re going to hell. I’m not going to try to “convert” you. I’m going to respect you to the best of my ability, and if I need clarification on anything, I will try my best to make sure that I do not overstep any boundaries. I will not shame you for your body, no matter how you look or how it works. It is not my place to tell you how to look, how to dress, or how to take care of yourself. I love you and I hope that you can love yourself, too. Abled people do not have a say in how to treat disabled bodies. You do not know our pain and you have not gone through the same journies that we have. This goes the same for neurotypical people and speaking for neurodivergent people. We know ourselves better than you ever could. POC voices are the only voices that matter on topics that relate to their struggles. White voices hold no weight because we know nothing about what we are saying. BLACK LIVES MATTER. FOREVER.

There are many topics that I have not addressed here, but I cannot think of many more at this current moment. I’m considering making some sort of masterpost, or fixing up my FAQ later on to better address all these things later on. But I have more that I need to and want to say in this post, and I need to move on.

It’s been a long time, and things change. I have changed. This blog has changed many times. I will probably be revamping the appearance of the blog soon as well. so I decided that this long post is a good time to say the things that I need to say.

I want to help people. I might be a bit of a grump, and sometimes, I’m a bit of a wild card when it comes to things that I’ve posted in the past (read as: I’ve posted some really dark shit because I’ve been in some really dark places in the past). I don’t know everything, but I still want to be here to help others. I want to be here for people that are struggling with pain, and need some help. I want to be here for people that are hurting and don’t know how to start the process of healing. I want to be here for people that maybe don’t have the capability to get the help that they need, because they will never have the chance. I want to be the friend that I never had when I was younger. If I can do that, I’ll be happy. This might just be wishful thinking, but I really do want to be a bigger voice in the disabled community, in the mental health community, and in the LGBT+ community. I want to be part of something bigger.

So once again I will say: I’m Sava. I’m 22. I’m a triple A. I’m polyaffectionate. I’m disabled. And I want to help others and make a difference.

#spoonie #disabled #chronic illness #chronic pain #neurodivergent #self care #l!fe #me #long post #LGBT+#aroace #asexual #aromantic #agender #polyaffectionate #trans #cane user #wheelchair user

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spacegaywritings · 4 years ago

Text

Warming Paws and Melting Walls (3/8) “Making Adjustments”

General

Summary: Emile lets Remy take Virgil to work. Negotiations ensue.

Tags: Emile, Remy, cat virgil, mentions of kidnapping but no actual kidnapping, nervousness, cat treats, boxes, cute shit, snuggles, crushing on your boss, arguing with cats, remy is being salty all the time, swearing, bitch bitch remy, phone calls, mentions of work, ew social, Remy hates people but he is valid, loneliness, pining, subtle lovey lovey.

Virgil and Emile are referred to by they/them pronouns.

i do not think there is any to be applied. If you need me to add anything, please contact me here or on my tumblr (spacegayparty, spacegaywritings)

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 // all.

tumblr: 1 / 2 / 3 (you are here) / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8.

My KoFi - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Story under the cut // Word count: 4,4k

“No.. I can’t. You don’t get it, I cannot come for the life of me!”

Remy gripped the phone in his hand tighter. His knuckles turned white. Not once in his life had he even dreamed of a scenario of this sort. No nightmare could ever reach into the depth of his personal fears like this. He was enraged, somewhat nervous. One of his hands was on the couch scratch the smooth, cool surface.

Reality was much crueller than imagination could ever be. Real life wrote stories that nobody could come up with - history was the perfect piece of evidence. People fighting alligators and smuggling foxes or colour-coding genitals. Human society was so fucked up, people did not even realise it. The most unbelievable shit happened all the time.

Right now, it was happening to him. Despite this, he tried, he really tried to get this right.

“Remy, you can’t just tell me you are not coming and then not give me a reason. Is anything wrong? Do you need help?”

Emile’s voice dropped from a somewhat sharp and scolding sound into the usually concerned sound. That pal was just made to care about others, weren’t they?

Even now they were more supposed to get upset and threaten him, when they were just worried about him. Remy wanted to roll his eyes at the display of pure wholesomeness but he did not have it in him to tease them about this.

“Okay, listen here. I know that is a shit thing to do. You guys are not prepared to be without me but I got some kinda emergency here, honey. I can’t handle work right now, not with them around. Or not around - Sorry, boss.”

The man carefully brushed over the kitten in his lap, the shivering little thing meowing pitifully. They were wailing out the feelings Remy gritted into his teeth.

“Alright, alright- wait. Wait a minute right there. What do you mean? Is anyone holding you against your will? Remy, I am concerned about you.”

Remy blinked for a moment at how much the whole conversation as much as Emile’s reactions to his words were a fucked over roller coaster that went back and forth and off-track periodically but irregularly so. It was unpredictable and honestly so draining. But understandably, the pal had some worries for their employees, especially Remy since he got into big piles of sick days due to his chronic migraines and physical issues. Still, it was a little absurd to expect him to be kidnapped. He was way to sassy to stay put.

“Uh, I mean, I would like to go to work but staying at home always sounds nicer than, like, being productive. Sounds like a big nappy time to me, if you are asking me, honey.”

Right after saying that, Remy realised that he was still sort of talking to his boss and probably should choose his words with at least a BIT more care, as of this moment. Emile was nice but they were not some dumb idiot who would let Remy do whatever with them.

“Uh, okay. Let me explain, honey. I picked up this cat and I don’t know, like, whose it is and I put up those papers and put ads on PhotoAlbum in several groups (it was a lot of work, sweetie. Would not recommend. Totally busted my weekend! So rude.). I also posted to some page that deals with missing animals of this area and all that kinda shit. I still got, like, a sweet nothing and the cat is really sad and they won’t let me go out. I am - I don’t want to leave the cat alone. You know, Virgil might all up and fuck over my flat and I have nobody to babysit them - catsit them? Whatever.”

Silence engulfed their phone call for a moment.

Remy was met with nothing but more little mewls which he quickly stilled by brushing further over their soft fur. Were cats supposed to have more dense fur than this? It felt a little thin, especially for winter coming up. Was that a black cat thing? The vet had not mentioned anything about that. Just to give the cat a stable and proper diet at, like, a scheduled time because stability. Which made sense and all but... Ugh, maybe he had to go there again or ask the internet or just get a book.

Emile cleared his throat after a while.

The doctor really did know how to get some attention. For some unknown reason, it felt like one of the hottest things to Remy how the man could just draw the attention back to him with the most subtle gestures on this fucking planet. They were still considered to be nice and soft and all that kinda fun stuff when they were actually not just sweet and adorable. Emile could be serious and it was almost frightening to know them in control.

"Remy, if neither you nor your cat - "

"Virgil. Their name is Virgil."

"Alright. If you are healthy and so is Virgil, I don't think I can excuse you at work. As much as I would like to, you are our one and only receptionist."

Remy's heart fell and he let out an audible sigh. It felt like pushing bricks through his windpipe when he could have breathed regular oxygen.

Whether his employer was hot or not, he couldn't just treat them like a friend or talk to them like some guy he wanted to hook up with. Okay, he kinda did but he tried to not listen to those thoughts. For once in a lifetime, Remy actually felt somewhat bad talking to Emile. He wanted to tell them off and never like his boss again. His chest was a fierce burning and he wanted them to regret being inconsiderate of the little kitten.

Didn’t they know Virgil was an abandoned stray? They were confused and all alone in the middle of winter in a big, heartless city!

"I appreciate your honesty, still. But Remy, listen. If your cat is new and you are scared of leaving him -"

"They. Virgil gets they /hem pronouns because they are a special person and deserved not to be misgendered."

"Alright. If you don't want them to be home alone, how about we make work a little more home for hi- them."

Remy pressed his lips into a thin line. For a moment, he hummed in deliberation.

"What do you mean?"

Virgil meowed on his chest and patted the phone in interested. Remy was sure they wanted to play. Emile received a little thud on their end.

"We keep your door closed and a little darker and hang up signs for people to try and be quiet so they can sleep. Cats sleep almost all day. Much more than we need."

The receptionist nodded but realised that Emile could probably not see that.

"Sounds okay."

Emile let out a hum.

"You would really do that? I'll get ready and come over with them."

His boss let out a laugh. Remy's queer heart was blooming in delight. Maybe they were not bad. They just had obligations too and these needed to be fulfilled. Other than Remy, Emile was running a business and needed his employees. Remy only had a void on his lap and softness in his heart.

Of course! Why didn't Remy think about that. Any kind of doctor needed to take an oath, swearing to protect all life. Emile had to prioritise their clients.

The cat meowed and Emile giggled again.

"Hello Virgil! See you later, I hope"

Remy's heart was beating so fast, he nearly swooned loud enough for Emile to hear him. His eyes closed and the sugar-sweet smile on his face refused to leave. Instead, it revelled on his lips for another few moments.

"I'll pack up and see you in a few."

Emile smiled, unbeknownst to Remy.

“Can’t wait to see you at work, Remy.”

Upon arrival, Virgil ducked away and cuddled up to Remy's chest. They were snuggled up under his jacket which they shared with Remy. Such a humble gesture. Whenever the cat heard a sound, they cuddled closer and flinched away from any source of sound other than Remy.

His footsteps? All okay.

Someone coughing? Fucking illegal.

Remy was more than happy to know he brought about as much food and little things for Virgil to ease up and calm down. It should ease them up. But he couldn't change the smell and make it more comfortable for the cat to relax faster instead of hiding away a lot.

It was still a wonder to him that Virgil was so trustworthy with him but then again, they all assumed they had been socialised before. But he didn't find a single person claiming to own the little void. Not yet, at least.

The man walked over to his little "office" only to be stopped from stepping inside.

A sign, as promised. But that one wasn't for the others to be quiet. It was for him to move into the bigger office.

“Reception moved to the main office.”

.. The main office was much bigger and Remy didn't know how Emile made it a usable working space for him and at the same time an adequate living space for Virgil but he would give it a try. If not, he would need to get some student to catsit his baby for a few hours every day. It wasn't like he desperately needed these bucks, anyway. It was okay. And he was willing and happy to spend it on his Virgil when they needed it more. He himself was glad, already. He had books and nice things but Virgil had nobody and had yet to be picked up by their original home.

A happy void was a good void and he wanted his void to be their best at all times. At least for the time being.

Virgil meowed and pawed at Remy. There was hesitation in their movement and after that, they stayed quiet as if to wait for their friend to reply to their request. The man just gently hushed the kitten by stroking over their black fur and humming a bit, quietly so.

The surroundings were so white, so new and it smelled of stingy disinfectant sprays and other things. One of the walls was pastel pink. It was not just cold but also warm but not warm like Remy was warm. Or Virgil, for that matter. He was just glad to wear his sunglasses loyally.

Virgil curled further into the black jacket.

“It’s okay, Queen, you will be fine”, he promised.

He made it to the office. The only time he had been in this place was when he had applied for this position not too long ago. A few years, maybe. This was Emile’s personal office. He was standing in his office and his things were in here. Emile usually did not have too many things around but the pictures and the pastel walls were giving off a warm vibe. Again, it was not the Remy-kind of warmth but it was warm nonetheless and it made him feel funny things he could not quite place.

Sometimes he forgot there was more than his own working space. That, and the fact that Emile had his own practice close to his home. He had probably been here early and had used the time to move furniture and accommodate Remy.

Literally, what kind of employer would ever do this?

This office was innocent and playful like going to the kindergarten or being on a swing. It was simple and natural. Natural despite pastels being a little less naturally occurring, especially in a city like the one they were living in. Still, it was a soft colour and had some sort of soothing effect on him.

Remy carefully nudged the door close behind him and brought Virgil over to the table where he was supposed to sit and work. The desk was larger and the wood looked like oak, perhaps. He was not the type of guy to know much about things. He just liked books and partying. He was a simple soul.

But his boss? He seemed to mind. Emile must haven taken time to invest in a certain vibe this office would convey. Maybe it was a psychology thing It calmed him down for sure.

Now, while the walls and pictures screamed Emile, they also hummed Remy’s tone. His desk was filled with little pictures and decorations he had brought to make himself more at home.

That was about the only delight he could relish in, working as an assistant or secretary or however people wanted to call his profession. Whatever, he was just there to welcome clients and give them some treatment plans he had printed according to Emile’s orders. Sometimes he would make appointments with people and negotiate about finances and payment plans. He checked prescriptions and other things, too. He mostly took care of all the social interactions beside the actual treatment Emile gave.

Yeah, Emile had it all figured out and believe it or not, Remy was actually great at keeping some order together and be somewhat effective with people. He kept track of every person and their schedules. He just knew which days to propose and which days, dates and times were impossible due to things such as soccer practice for the kids or school or religious rituals and family traditions.

Say whatever you want, Remy was good enough at his job to keep it yet still flip off enough people.

However, now he needed to settle down and enjoy the new space.

Or, well, absolutely hate how much it smelled of Emile and how it felt warm like them and their sweaters. Having the hots for his boss or uh, higher-up, was definitely the best thing to ever happen to him. Maybe not the best but it was entertaining to say the least. Virgil, on the other hand, was quite..quiet.

The smol kitten was put onto the desk with care. Remy was handling a precious piece of creature right there after all. He watched them for a moment, the cat just crouching down and looking at him with wide, heterochromatic eyes.

Right into his heart and soul.

“I love you too, royal stray. Now let me work before I get fired, Queen of salt”, Remy offered and let his bag down.

He made some space, turned on the computer and gently nudged the cat. Virgil refused to budge and stayed put in front of the keyboard.

“Kitten, I gotta work. Wanna sit on my lap? You can cuddle with me while I work.”

Remy looked at them but there was no answer. Were cats the clever ones? Or was this dogs?

Well, whatever, it’s not like Virgil would just suddenly all up and speak actual words. This was not a magical place after all, it was just a boring office.

Or a warm office, actually. Not that it really mattered. (It did, to him.)

“Caaat, come on, I need to work.”

Remy put his arms around Virgil to at least type his log-in data into the computer and get his whole shit set up and finally started. After some time, he could start receiving calls and schedule things again. It was bad enough he was so late. He probably had a ton of emails to check about how some people needed to reschedule something or needed an extra appointment, maybe even an emergency one.

People, right?

Nothing was ever right with people, it was inconsistent. Apparently, cats were not really as consistent either.

Maybe living things just sucked and Remy did not know how to deal with that.

The black blob of fur was still unmoving and even with the arms awkwardly surrounding them, they would not take any more action than purring.

Purring. Fucking purring.

“Virgil, come on. Quit your bullshit and move, you are not supposed to be comfortable in my working space.”

“Meow”

“Yeah, meow you too, little bitch.”

Remy rolled his eyes, looking for his brain so he could interrogate why the fuck he was actually arguing with a cat. Like talking to his brain was actually more sensible than discussing things with a cat and somewhat expecting a rational answer.

“Okay, Queen, how about that: We can find you a box. You like boxes and I should have a box here - for paper. I swear, I will go totally feral if they threw this away. Anyway, I will just take away the paper and you can get all comfortable in the box, just like at my place.”

Virgil looked at him, purring and vibrating in interest. The sparkling eyes fixed on the man and Remy nodded. The void seemed to be pleased by this suggestion. Remy was allowed to breathe around the feral beast for a little longer. Great.

The secretariat let himself drop into his swivel chair and he quickly rolled over to the printer and took the stash of printing paper out for the sake of making space for his kitty friend. Damn yes, he was glad Emile had not thrown this away. He would have trusted them to do such things.

“Oh Virgil~”, he purred out in a voice akin to songs more than simple words, “come here, kitty kitty.”

The kitten looked over, tail swishing around for a moment. They looked as if they were ready to get up and maybe even cooperate for a second. What a day of fucking miracles.

Remy experimentally patted the box and Virgil slowly moved over, purring still and with passion It sounded like the whole room was driven by the engine that was nothing but Virgil’s curious sounds. They were unique and even if Remy was sighing in exasperation at how much time the cat took to INSPECT AN EMPTY BOX OF CARDBOARD, he was smiling.

Eventually, Virgil was done sniffing and patting the box with paws and nose. They actually stepped into the small space and settled into the space like cat pudding.

Wasn’t there some stupid shit of cats being liquid? He did not remember it quite well but he was sure there was something like that.

“There you go, little void. I got a treat for you, you are doing so well.”

He quickly pulled a little snack out of his bag and handed it to his kitten who took it immediately.

Virgil’s nose was twitching for a moment and their little teeth crunched on the small treat as if this was the most festive and fancy meal they would ever receive. Those teeth looked like straight out of some vampire novel.

But was that shit really so tasty for cats?

..He kinda wanted to try that but he was human and he would probably hate that shit. He also kinda felt odd about the idea of eating Virgil’s food. He had his own food, seriously. He had such dummy thicc ideas sometimes.

“You are the best little void”, Remy cooed and softly bonked their heads together.

Virgil’s insistent purring gradually seeped into the human. Closing his eyes, Remy just stayed in place and brushed his hand through the little kitten’s charcoal fur for a little while longer. It was warm. Warm like hugs were warm and drinking hot chocolate or similar drinks that made him feel fuzzy and sleepy.

Maybe he met the kitty cat in winter, so he would be warmer and not the cat themself.

“You two sure look comfortable!~”

Remy ripped himself away from the dark kitten, his head whipping around so quickly, he could hear it giving off the sound of something breaking. Oops, neck. Sorry, not sorry. His reaction was so quick and violent, someone might have thought he was a teenager whose parents walked in on him pleasing himself. As expected (yet somewhat at the same time, not really), the boss themself was standing there and looking at Remy and Virgil cuddling. Emile chuckled but apologised at the scare they had driven into the others.

The coffee-lover could do no more but raise an eloquent eyebrow instead of stuttering up some weak apology. He was not about that kind of speech anyway. Too much work. Instead, he was the type of person to, well, arch an eyebrow at his boss.

Virgil’s colourful eyes were focused on the intruder. They stared into Emile’s soul.

“Virgil is doing okay”, he replied as he pulled up his work email account and scheduling programme to put the things together.

Oh dear coffee bean, he still needed to check voice mail for all the info he had missed. Emile pressed their lips into a thin line for a moment before letting them pop back out.

“You know, you can tell me these things first things in the morning instead of not coming and sending me ominous texts. I am more than inclined to helping you when I know that you are in need of certain accommodations.”

Remy nodded but kept his eyes on the screen. For a brief moment, the man glanced over at his boss and clicked his tongue. He acknowledged them for just long enough to be somewhat polite.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged and Virgil meowed…in agreement?

“Aw your kitten is so cute! Where did you get them again?”

The doctor came into the office and slowly approached the kitten. Their back arched a bit, making them smaller. Virgil shrunk away from them and their ears changed position.

Remy gingerly grabbed the little box of void and pulled them closer in. The kitten’s eyes widened and their body tensed, seemingly jumping into a position to pounce onto the intruder or flee within the blink of an eye. If need be, they were prepared.

The man gently eased the kitten with small movements. He brushed the fur down until the void was in a more regular position but their small muscle strands were still obviously tensed up under his displays of affection.

“They are shy. I found them around the trash in a side alley on my way home”, he explained curtly as he gently consoled the kitten who settled into the box once more.

Safe box, good box.

Best little void.

Remy was so proud of them for relaxing and trusting him. The flee stance was away and the cat did not look like they were a small kindergarten kid some big adult suddenly started yelling at for apparently no understandable reason. The kitten was doing well.

“It’s okay, little Queen, bad Em will bow to your wishes, little darling.”

Emile straightened their posture and smiled at the two before them, waving.

Could they do anything better than wave? They felt like an outsider watching an intimacy they would never be a part of. Like a child watching the perfect family from the other side of the window.

It was so warm and so far away. The own world was so cool.

Yet it was another kind of warm. Not smiles and soft words warm, it was more than reassurance and paid trust. There was a whole relationship in this warmth. It had established within just a few days. The time span was so strikingly short, the individual was genuinely shocked to have missed so much of Remy’s life in just a moment.

Emile pressed their lips together again and sighed.

“I just wanted to let you know that you can have the office if that helps. I will stack cat food and toys for the kitten, if you want to. I hope that helps you accommodate. But I need you to help me plan the refurbishment of your old office, then. Got any time during lunch break?”

Remy shrugged.

“I mean, if I do not have to catch up on anything else, sure. I cannot go out with Virgil. This is too much for them.”

He glanced at them and gently pulled the kitten-box closer to his stomach.

“You okay there?”

Virgil meowed and was rewarded yet another pat on the head. The cat pushed against the gentle hand, eyes squeezed shut. Remy looked at them instead of his boss.

“Okay, good. Now let me work, you demanding little bitch. I got your business to handle and finances to take care of.”

The cat slowly blinked at him and he chuckled. Emile cleared his throat.

“Good then. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Yeah whatever”, he cooed before he redirected his attention to the screen before him where he started scanning the first emails with plan changes. His right put down the notes of it with little abbreviations. Mrs. Shuster was probably running late again. He really needed to have a talk about this with Emile.

Talking about this, the pal was still standing there, abandoned eyes on the unattending Remy. He was patting Virgil with one hand and started clicking and reading at incredibly fast speed with his other hand.

Emile did not notice they were staring, standing still as they were captivated by the simple scene before them. When Remy’s cool eyes, shaded by sunglasses, suddenly looked at them, they realised they had yet to leave.

“Anyway, I gotta get this stuff done. Need anything else?”

His boss shook their head with a smile softer than butter in the sun.

“I will leave you two to it. See you later, Remy, Virgil.”

They nodded their head at each name and looked at the two. The void was basically invisible under the desk and in Remy’s lap.

Just safe and protected as the needed it.

Emile left, swallowing the odd tightness in their throat.

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dreamyangxt · 6 years ago

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can you write a short of lucas not being able to sleep and it catching up to him but he hides it from elliot to not worry him, but then it catches up to him and elliot figures it out and comforts him

-Can you write a short story of Lucas not being able to sleep and it catching up to him but he hides it from Eliott because he doesn’t want to worry him, however, Eliott soon finds out and does his best to comfort Lucas-

It was 2:00 AM, and here Lucas was, staring at the wall while sitting on the couch, a million thoughts running through his mind at once. It had been like this for a couple of days, staying up until the crack of dawn, having sleepless and restless nights. It was getting close to the end of the year, meaning Lucas had his French bac coming up, and to say that he was stressed was an understatement. At first, he didn’t really think much of it, but when he got into an argument with Yann around 4 days ago over him not studying, it became a much bigger problem for Lucas. Now, Yann won’t talk to Lucas at all, and it’s slowly eating away at him from the inside out. He might have possibly freaked out on him, saying something amongst the sorts of “I know what I’m doing, you don’t have to baby me, Yann.” So here he is, now regretting everything that had been said, hating himself for having such a short temper. His mouth always got him into trouble, and now he’s definitely overdone it.

So, as Lucas sat there, papers and textbooks sprawled out all over the coffee table, chronic migraine present, he began to feel the warm, salty tears slowly making their way down his cheeks. He chose to study in the living room because he didn’t want to concern or alarm Eliott. He knew that Eliott was already stressed with work and maintaining the rent of their newly shared apartment, so he didn’t want to add onto his troubles and make him feel like he needed to take care of Lucas. Eliott had gone through enough as is, and the last thing that Lucas wanted was to be a burden to him, so he’s tried to hide the fact that he hasn’t slept in days to the best of his ability. He figured that Eliott would get suspicious at some point, but Lucas has made sure to drink plenty of coffee and energy drinks to get him going through the day. Obviously, the lack of excitement and energy that Lucas normally acquires is going to catch up to him, and Eliott will ask him about it sooner or later, but he’s hoping he can fix things before it gets to that point. As of right now, Lucas’ main concern is studying and figuring out how he’ll apologize to Yann.

As Lucas continued to think about his current issues, he began to cry more, unable to stop the constant flow of his tears. He didn’t like crying, he hated it in fact, but he was an emotional person that couldn’t stand it whenever someone was mad at him, and right now, he was pretty sure his best friend hated him. He was in so much pain, emotionally and physically, because crying wasn’t exactly helping the fact that he had an incessant migraine from staying up and staring at textbooks all night. Lucas’ restrained sobs weren’t as quiet as he thought, because Eliott soon walked into the room, hair messy and eyes half open, yet a look of worry still apparent.

“Lucas? What are you doing? Are you okay?” Lucas quickly wiped his tears, hoping that Eliott didn’t see them. He plastered a tight smile onto his face despite the fact that it caused his head to start pounding even more than it had before.

“I’m fine, Eliott, I just couldn’t sleep so I decided to study, hoping it would make me tired enough to go back to sleep, because you know how boring and tiring studying can get haha.” Lucas thought that if he was light-hearted about the situation, Eliott wouldn’t think much of it and hopefully go back to sleep, but that’s not what happened.

“No, Lucas, seriously. You were crying. What’s wrong?” Eliott asked as he moved to sit down on the couch next to Lucas. He looked down, defeated and exhausted, not knowing how to answer. He could feel the tears make their way to his eyes again, because now not only did he fail to study and fix things with Yann, but he also failed to prevent Eliott from worrying. Why did he have to be so emotional?

“I… I was just- I needed to study because I got in a fight with Yann and I haven’t slept in days and I’m just so tired, Eliott, I-” Lucas muttered out before breaking down entirely, the tears flowing out of his eyes like a waterfall. He didn’t know what to do. He was probably gonna fail bac, and he had no idea how he would fix things with Yann. They have never fought like this, let alone go on for so many days without talking or having any interaction whatsoever. He was just so, so exhausted, emotionally and physically.

Eliott scooted over to Lucas, pulling him into a tight hug. He hated seeing Lucas like this, so drained of any and all happiness and energy. That was one of the many things he loved most about Lucas, the fact that he was always so enthusiastic about nothing in general, but when he saw Lucas so defeated he couldn’t stop his heart from slightly breaking at the sight. He made sure to hold Lucas as tight as he could, never wanting to let go and allow him to get hurt ever again. Lucas didn’t deserve this, and Eliott knew that better than anyone. Eliott was soon mad at himself for not noticing that something was wrong sooner, because he could have stopped it before it got to this point. He has been so caught up in his own work that he has had hardly any time to even take notice to Lucas, so he promised himself that he wouldn’t allow himself to get so held up on anything that could potentially distract him from Lucas and his life. Lucas was all that Eliott cared about, and for him to reach a point of such desperation and hopelessness was devastating for Eliott.

Eliott pulled away from the hug, looking at Lucas and wiping away his tears. He looked into his eyes with both adoration and sympathy.

“Lucas, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He said, running his hand over Lucas’ cheek and pushing his hair away from his face.

“Are you kidding, Eliott? You’ve been so busy with work and everything, imagine how stressed you would be if you were constantly worrying about both work and my well-being. I didn’t want to put that pressure on you.” Lucas said softly, looking down at his lap as he wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. Eliott would have thought that were gross if it were anyone else, but it was Lucas, so he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Lucas, you’re my boyfriend, I care more about you than I do anything else. Who cares if I’m stressed? I love you and want what’s best for you. I take care of you, you take care of me, that’s how it has always been. You don’t deserve to go through all of this alone, and either way, I would be happy just knowing that you’re happy.”

“But-”

“No buts, Lucas. I’m serious. Don’t you ever go through something like this again without telling me, because it does more harm than it does good, do you understand me?” Eliott said, lifting Lucas’ head up by the chin, staring into his eyes with a look of sincerity. Lucas just nodded, giving him a small smile to let him know that he understood. Eliott smiled back, bringing Lucas in for another hug as Lucas climbed over into Eliott’s lap. They sat there for a little while longer, holding each other as close as they could, never wanting to let the other go. Eliott was softly stroking Lucas’ hair, causing Lucas to become relaxed as his eyes slowly became heavier. Soon, Lucas was passed out in Eliott’s arms, sleeping for the first time in what felt like forever. Eliott smiled down at Lucas, kissing his forehead as he lifted him up, carrying him to their bed and tucking him in.

“Bonne nuit, Lucas. Je t’aime.” Eliott whispered as he got into his side of the bed, and right before he fell asleep, he heard the slightest “Je t’aime” come from the right of him.

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