#I'm painfully aware of who I am it's just that sometimes I need to take a backseat and let someone else take the wheel

[callsignbaphomet]

[sublimecatgalaxy]

hii !! i love your fezco/ashtray imagines a lot, i was wondering if you could write smth like fezco x sunshine reader who has a rlly close platonic bond with ash and they’re both v protective of her and just some fluffy domestic stuff 🫶

I love writing this type of trope with Fez and Ash. Warms my heart.

"I don't know why you're with him." Ash calls out suddenly, lifting the blunt from his lips as Fez and I both turn to look at him, shocked and mildly disappointed that he's tearing our attention away from the movie playing on the TV.

"What do you mean?" I ask, lifting my head from Fez's lap so I can sit up, still tucked safely in the crook of his side and I link my fingers with Fez's hand that's never left my shoulder as I shifted.

"He's so fuckin' tough and shit a-and he's seen some shit and you're just..." Ash pauses with a taunting expression, trailing off as Fez's shoulders square, totally prepared to stand up for me against Ash's incessant teasing.

It's been this way since Fez and I started seeing each other; all three of us would be hanging out and all of a sudden Ash and I would be taking shots at each other until one of our 'insults' forces a laugh out of the whole room- like true siblings.

Sometimes Fez jokes that Ash and I are more like siblings than they are.

"Just what, Ash, spit it the fuck out." Fez mutters, taking a hit off his joint before hanging it in my direction but I hold a hand up to him, waving the smoke from my face.

"You're so nice." Ash's words are a compliment but they don't exactly sound like they're meant as a compliment especially with the sassy smirk that spreads easily across his lips.

"Am I'm not nice?" Fez asks, feigning offense with a quiet laugh and I reach over to pat his chest, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

"You're the nicest, Fezzy." I whisper, dragging his attention towards me as he leans down, pecking my cheeks a few more times before he tilting his head just right to catch my lips in a brief kiss. Ash groans in response to our outward display of affection but it only makes me want to do it more, a snicker escaping me and Fez smirks.

"Thank you baby."

"You're literally like the fucking sun and he's like a fucking storm cloud, dude." Ash sits up, waving his hands between the two of us, trying to get the point across but it's a point that Fez and I are painfully aware of already. We're different, we always have been, but in the ways that I've made him softer, he's helped me grow a bit of a backbone.

And in this household, you need a pretty damn strong backbone.

"Yeah well, when you're old enough, you'll realize that opposites do attract." I throw a wink in his direction which forces a scoff and an eye roll from Ash as he rises to his feet, muttering under his breath as he passes us.

"When I'm old enou- shut the fuck up." He thwacks the side of my head as he walks by and Fez chuckles, head tipping back in laughter.

"Love you Ash!" I call out, hearing the sound of his bedroom door closing and I feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment that I was finally able to tease him into submission. I won!

It only took nearly two years of knowing him.

"He doesn't like to be teased." Fez chuckles, looking down at me with a soft look, a knowing smile spread across his lips as I shrug. I tuck my knees to my chest, reaching up to cup his cheeks in my hands, squishing his cheeks playfully.

"Well then he needs to stop teasing me."

"That's never gonna happen."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

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[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hey it's high-fructose-jay-syrup again. I sent the original question off anon because it's not something I'd feel particularly awkward about anyone connecting to me, but then sent the followup ask on anon because I figured the ask not having gone through had something to do with me sending it off anon lmao (which apparently it did, since you did get the anon ask)

anyhoo. wondering if you have any insight on the line between masochism and self harm? I am realizing that a lot of my prior exploration of that area of kink had more to do with a desire to Feel Something than pure enjoyment of pain (which often resulted in me continuing despite being unsure about my comforts) and I think most of it was not a good idea to be doing and may even have been somewhat traumatizing. so now I'm understandably pretty wary about exploring that field again (I mean I'm wary of sex in general thanks to Trauma TM but yk, someday when that's no longer the case), and wondering if you have any thoughts on how to tell the difference between something that involves pain but is completely safe and enjoyable, and something that is actively damaging and needs to stop, *especially* given the phenomenon of sub drop.

thanke! happy late birthday!

hi not-anon,

this is a very interesting question, and I'm afraid it's not one that I'll be able to offer a very solid answer on. the line between masochism and self-harm that you're seeking is a thin and wavering one, and exactly where it lands varies heavily depending on the individual. there's a pretty excellent book called Hurts So Good: The Science and Culture of Pain on Purpose that I thought of immediately while reading your question; in it, author Leigh Cowart examines their own experiences with ballet, eating disorders, and kink as well as people who partake in pain-seeking activities like eating record-setting amounts of painfully hot peppers, taking part in body-breaking ultramarathons, and flinging themselves into frigid waters on purpose. I think it's very notable that many of the people they talk to discuss former addictions that were much more actively detrimental to their quality of life than their current pain fix; sometimes it's not a matter of "I'm not hurting myself at all," but "hurting myself eating peppers will fuck me up a lot less than hurting myself with alcohol."

if you think about it there are dozens of activities that can simultaneously get a brain pumping dopamine and set off our pain receptions. pulling from just two of my own experiences, I love the pain of a needle when getting a new tattoo, and I love how wrecked my body feels after a couple hours of bouldering - and yes, both of those come with a drop afterwards! does that mean they qualify as self-harm? I don't think so, no, but I can also easily see how either could slip into that, if I were to start pushing my body regularly beyond the threshold of acceptable pain into something more than I can comfortable handle. the problem is that, as I said, that line isn't universal, and sometimes the only way to find out for sure is to push a little too far and see what happens.

it's also worth pointing out that, in terms of sexual masochism specifically, the idea of anything being "completely safe" is a discouraged by a lot of people within the community. this is a large part of RACK, or risk-aware consensual kink; substituting the "safe" in "safe, sane, and consensual" with an acknowledgement that sex involving acts of physical violence, no matter how well-negotiated, cannot ever be 100% perfectly risk free, and that this is a risk that participants must either be willing to accept or not engage with. to my thinking, at least, being risk-aware also means knowing the emotional harm that you would be making yourself vulnerable to by participating, and taking responsibility for that by not seeking out potentially harmful situations.

(safe, sane, and consensual has been reevaluated and contested in other ways in recent years; I wrote more about that and its history here for the curious.)

it seems clear that you're aware of which side of that line you've fallen on in the past, and I'm glad it's something you've been able to recognize and change your behavior around, as it sounds like avoiding SM situations entirely is great for you right now. I don't know if you're on a break from sex altogether, but if you are feeling wary about it, then it certainly couldn't hurt. it bears mentioning that even the most vanilla sex on earth can be (and often is) a form of self harm as much as kinky sex; as always, the thing that matters in the context and the experience of the individual involved.

in regards to any kind of sex, my advice is generally pretty blunt: if you're not sure whether or not something will fuck you up, don't do it. why would you take that risk? there are plenty of spaces in our lives where we have to put up with things that suck, but when it comes to your sex life that shit's completely customizable. skip the things that you're unsure about, focus on what you know works for you, whether that's vanilla sex, kinky sex, or no sex at all.

[essence-inked]

Rant incoming, because sometimes things just pile up until you need to let all the feelings out, and this seems like a good place to do it.

As a neurodivergent and partially blind person, it’s so wild to me that people - including complete strangers - will tell me how inspirational I am when they find out even a little about what I’m doing with my life. Because the thing is, it’s usually those exact people who treat me like they don’t expect me to be competent, or ask invasive questions as if I’m something to be gawked at, or partake in the subtle exclusion that, even though I eventually found more friends than I knew what to do with, I still experience on a daily basis. They’ll say I’m impressive for having overcome my burdens, and then they’ll go right on treating me in the exact ways that mean I have to fight tooth and nail to get a shred of respect as just a fellow person. And the real kicker is, sure, being overstimulated or not being able to see the board in a classroom is tricky, but ultimately, those are solvable problems. It’s the buildup of all the small moments of alienation, all the assumptions about my competence, all the times I’m treated like I’m somehow less than the people around me that make being different a burden that will forever leave me unsure of myself. And yes, this absolutely includes people mistaking pity for kindness (being treated like a child is not kindness, what is kind is having the self-awareness to recognize your own biases and treating people without prejudice). And it is so very painfully ironic that, in so very many cases, it’s those people who treat me this way who also have the audacity to tell me how inspirational it is to see someone like me being so accomplished.

The worst bit of it all is that if I don’t smile and nod my way through it, any issue I take is perceived as just not understanding the supposed kindness I'm being shown. Confronting people about this specific thing is nearly impossible to succeed at, because any problem I have with their behavior is already discredited by the fact they think they know better.

So, to all the people who will never read this, you think you’re being gentle and kind to someone surely as fragile as me, but it’s your emotions that are being coddled, and your delicate sensitivities I am careful not to offend. If you really thought I was your equal, you wouldn’t assume your absurd infantilization of me would fly right over my head, and I am only an inspiration to you because it is exactly your sort of prejudice I’ve had to spend my life fighting against. You are the reason why I am burdened, and with all sincerity, I would just like to say this:

Go fuck yourself.

[theliterarywolf]

Oh if you're still in the mood to rant around books (more specifically the mess it's been tangled in for a long time tbh)

So I was at a bookstore the other day with a friend feeling nostalgic about some old YA reads. Some aged well, others not so much. I would argue Percy Jackson and The Hunger Games fit into that first category. But I remember my library getting waves of what felt like "off brand" versions of popular books like those

Now, similar premises don't necessarily mean it's just a cash grab BUT some felt like soulless husks of "here's the check list for how to make a best seller."

I really feel for authors who are chasing their passion and have to deal with publishing houses refusing to take risks on anything they think won't be best sellers.

As an artist, I'm painfully aware that sometimes you do have to be thinking about what will sell vs the exact vision for your work. But even as someone who is not the most business minded, I have to wonder: not everything can even be the biggest baddest best seller so why do companies act like *decent profit* isn't good enough?

When I worked retail, the higher ups acted like when we weren't making above and beyond expectations (that grew every year) we were *losing money* instead of just not making as much profit.

Anyways, I guess my main point is it's not like I'm rooting for big publishers to make more money BUT I'm rooting for authors to earn what they deserve so I'm hoping big publishers grasp that niche markets are worth pursuing. Or at the very least, TAKE A COUPLE RISKS.

But risks are scaaaaary and they don't guarantee movie adaptations or Netflix shows they can cancel after one season~!

In all seriousness, though, I know full well and personal about literary agents and publishing houses not wanting to take risks on anything that isn't 100% manufactured guaranteed to be as marketable, licensable, and adaptable as possible.

It's admittedly been a long while since this part of my life but, back before I understood the dying beast of the market and the strive for Independently-Produced Content, I myself was shopping my first novel around to dozens of literary agents and publishing houses. Of course, the bulk of what I got were either 'It's just... not what we're looking for at this time' or complete radio silence or rejections based on a publishing house deciding to, out of the blue, go in a new 'diverse direction focusing on the voices and stories of women' when that hadn't been mentioned at all during the times I researched them

(Disclaimer: Yes, obviously I am a woman, but I've always felt more comfortable creating stories with men as the core cast; sue me)

However, one particular rejection letter to this day has always stuck with me.

The agent in question wrote something along the lines of 'You're obviously a very talented writer. I just wouldn't know how to market something like this'.

So, as you mentioned, hundreds of competent writers are getting rejected by the industry because of publishing houses refusing to publish anything that hasn't been manufactured to be a marketable/adaptable jackpot and agents who don't want to even bother.

Yes, it is all a business at the end of the day. But even major businesses need to identify shifting trends in marketshare and diversify their portfolios every once in a while.

[hinderr]

Listen, I've read the last chapter and I want to say so much… First of all, it's insanely emotional. I really read with bated breath. I have so many emotions and thoughts about the ending right now, it's not what I expected, but it's insanely logical for this job. Gideon, as people in my country say, "what he fought for, he ran into."

It is interesting to watch how Grogu releases his attachment to him over the years - and at the same time how much he looks like him in places, it's creepy. This manipulativeness and the ability to make a naive, unhappy look in order to get your own - this is not from Din and not from birth. I'm really interested now to wait for the Nurture someday to understand how all this will reflect even more time later. And I still find it valuable that in past charter everyone - Din and the others - accepted Grogu's right to LOVE Gideon. Regardless of whether would he continued to feel it all his life or not, it was extremely important at that moment and, I think, it is important now. Because Grogu can now understand that even if he is not on the "right" road and feels "strange" feelings, he is still loved. Whether the situation changes or not is a matter of less importance. This is very important knowledge regardless of the present point.

By the way, Gideon's reaction to the meeting is interesting. He throws mockery at the fact that Grogu still cares, but he too does not behave like a person who does not care. It would seem - you never loved this child, five years have passed, what difference does it make that he is happy with another person? But no, Gideon behaves like… painfully attached, when it seems like he doesn't really need it himself, but you can't give it to another either. It’s hard to explain, but I really didn’t get the impression that he didn’t give a damn about all this long history.

Also, I don't think that's what you meant, but at some point I had a thought… what if Gideon purposely ran into a gunshot? It is clear that at first he was angry and really perplexed, but at some point … I thought so because it must be extremely difficult for a person of this kind to live in a prison cell. He has no power, no purpose, no Empire, for which he fought, in general, quite sincerely, regardless of methods. He is nobody and nothing. And he's smart enough to be fully aware of it. What if at some point he saw that Grogu was sufficiently angry with him and he had a weapon with him - and decided to take advantage of the situation. But that's just my thoughts.

I do not know what to say. This is probably one of the first works not in my native language that so captivated me and that I read in the process, looking forward to each chapter. Because the languages we speak are different, but the theme is international. The whole work is very … reliable, and sometimes the emotions from reading were such that I morally departed from the new chapter couple of days. This is something unique and beautiful, although it tells about terrible and sad events. I love each of the characters. Wren is not a canon character, usually I don’t perceive OC at all, but with you he is so alive and real that he looks … native. He doesn't stand out from others in a bad way. His character, personality, motives and feelings are all so believable, he's beautifully written.

Thank you. It was cool)

This is so so undeniably sweet and so so thoughtful and god I am so, so happy you enjoyed the finale (I'll be honest, your reactions was one of those I was anticipating the most!) And I'm glad you were willing to look past the language barrier to read my silly story! It means the world to me, and I can't possibly express just how much I've appreciated your support - every ask and reply and interaction makes me so so happy!!

There's a bit of Gideon in Grogu, but there's a bit of Grogu in Gideon as well. You're absolutely right that Gideon got just a tiny bit attached, in the most messed up way possible. He hated the fact that his Asset saw another person as his father, and that 'he was a better buir than (he'll) ever be', even though he hated it when Grogu called him father too. What you said about not needing something but not letting anyone else have it is exactly on point, and I'm so so happy you got that

And I'm so happy you liked Wren Farvo too! He was a plot device at first, but I've grown to genuinely love and adore him. He means the world to me and I'm so happy you liked meeting him (I probably won't be able to resist slipping him into some of my other works as a side character. Just to carry him along as we go)

Again thank you so so much! I'm happy you've enjoyed it, and I'm happy to have made you happy <33

[kristakittyfish]

I'm participating in a comps study group which is great, y'know, preparation, that's good, but I am also so painfully aware of my own deficiencies and angry about my dumb brain that doesn't work right and just how much harder it will be

my own feelings on the matter are irrelevant and I need to get over it but for today I am angry. I'm mad that I have to spend time babying myself and reminding myself that hey, actually, living is good and dying would be bad, when that time could be spent learning and improving and preparing. I'm angry that I will have to sit in front of my committee and be drilled for hours on ecological knowledge while pretending that I'm fine with talking to people and making eye contact and not doing stupid things with my hands and being normal. I'm angry that these will have to be conscious choices that I make and take up thoughts that will interrupt my focus on the task at hand. I will do it, I will study and pretend to be normal and composed and probably cry anyways, but for now I am angry

this is coming on the tail of a weekend where I was being angry about how being queer is a political statement and how every little thing becomes more difficult because of it, and what will I do when I have a job? especially in the south, interacting with landowners and potentially students, who will I be? how will I have to present myself? being safe and censoring myself to be palatable to others are so difficult to differentiate and often overlap. this compounding with thoughts on how to form meaningful relationships when I am generally just like this

anyways I spent this weekend being sad and now I am angry and I sometimes wish I were normal but even more than that I wish I didn't have to pretend to be

[aprillikesthings]

Spite donations

So my evening adderall has kicked in and I wanna talk about the concept of spite donations, because 1. it's such a great idea I want more people to know 2. I want to encourage myself to do it more.

Say you're in an argument with someone, especially online. Here, twitter, facebook, reddit, the family group chat, what the fuck ever. They're being stupid or mean or whatever, but you can't get them to see logic or compassion and they're frustrating you.

You know you're not going to change their mind. But blocking them might feel like giving in. Or they're a relative or a friend and you don't want to burn that bridge just yet. Or you did block them/close the app, but now you have all this anger burning away at you and you feel like shit.

Walk away from the argument (literally or metaphorically). Take a deep breath. And donate money to a person or non-profit out of sheer fucking spite.

(OBVIOUS CAVEAT ONE: Not everyone can do this. I know that. There have been times in my life where I could not even spare $5. I am painfully aware that I am lucky that I can do this sometimes. But that just means that those of us who can afford to do it, should. Imagine that I am doing it on your behalf. I love you.)

If the donation is related to the argument you're having, that's cool! I once got in a rage at a friend's relative on facebook who was denying that voter ID laws are racist (they are, side note; and I gave her lots of information on it) and she was furious that I Was Calling Her Racist!!!11!! So I looked up a couple of voting rights non-profits in her state (one fights against voter suppression laws, the other does the nitty-gritty of helping people get ID's and get to the polls), checked on a couple of non-profit watch sites that they were legit, and donated $50 to each of them.

(I admit I was more spiteful than usual, and posted screenshots of my email receipts to the thread. It did shut her up, so there's that.)

Donate to abortion funds in the name of anti-choice politicians or family members. Donate to a local environmental non-profit when your uncle is a shithead about climate change. Donate to the gofundme's of transgender strangers for their rent or gender-confirming surgeries when JKR pops up in your twitter trending.

BUT it doesn't HAVE to be related to the thing you're angry about.

Lots of shelters and other charities that do direct aid for people have amazon wishlists. I have the the wishlist of a local day shelter for homeless folks on my amazon account. Sometimes when I don't know where else to donate money I just pick random shit off their wishlist. Thanks for making me furious, random asshole on reddit, some homeless woman just got NEW UNDERWEAR AND WARM SOCKS. FUCK YOU.

Look, righteous indignation is an addictive feeling, and the internet is basically primed to give you opportunities to feed into it. Use that urge to do actual good! If nothing else--if you're like me? The feel-good dopamine hit of knowing I'm helping a cause I believe in or even a random stranger? That's a much better bit of dopamine than I could possibly get from yelling at people online.

But also: there's a kind of relief? Often it's just difficult to walk away from an argument. Some days I am better at this than others. But tossing a few bucks at someone who needs it gives me a kind of satisfaction, like I "won" the argument.

"But April, recurring donations are better for most non-profits." I agree! 100%! Did you know that if you use paypal to donate to non-profits, that paypal can keep a list for you and when you go on your account there's an option to do it again? Make a couple of charities/non-profits your default "Fuck This Guy" donations.

It doesn't have to be a lot. $20 is still something. $10 is still SOMETHING.

Don't just get angry. Donate some money.

(OBVIOUS CAVEAT TWO: If you have the time/energy/resources, volunteering is also an amazing option. Or just doing something kind for others when you can. A genuine compliment to a stranger can go a long way to lift the spirits, for them AND you. This is just one method, among many, for dealing with the brokenness of the world. The antidote to hopelessness is action.)

[one-winged-dreams]

all of the day to day f/o asks for knull, because, i think they would be very funny to answer. :)c

@flatstarcarcosa

REEEESE, I'M GONNA CRY 😭

The comedic potential here is too good.

For the funny to take full effect, let all who read this know this is a symbiote god that lives in my chemical makeup and can only manifest himself through my symbiote which he does not often do because it’s too much effort so all of this is just coming from inside my head. Enjoy.

How do you and your f/o usually sleep? Do you like to cuddle and hold each other, or do you need your space? 

I don't. I lay there staring into oblivion until he taunts me and then makes me conk out by messing with my histamine receptors.

Is your f/o more of a tidy or a messy person? What about you? Also, do the two of you sometimes get into arguments because of the household chores?

“What is this? Why do you keep all your clothes on a chair? Why is there so much cat hair and so many candles and... ashes???” “They’re incense ashes, I accidentally flung the tray again.” “kermitinternalscreaming.gif”

He only knows what a standard human dwelling is supposed to look like by proxy, but he is still painfully aware that my living space is chaotic as FUCK.

“I’ll clean it later.” “No. You absolutely will not. This is a time told tradition.” “Do YOU want to fix my mental illness that renders me incapable of functioning?” “I thought you’d never ask.” “NO WAIT-!”

Who usually does the laundry?

Knull: -looks at the dryer and remembers the time eddie threw him into a furnace-

Do you and your f/o sometimes have breakfast in bed? If so how often? Also, who´s more likely to make the other breakfast in bed?

He does not give a flying fuck what I eat or where I eat it. I don’t eat in bed by principle, though.

What´s about random affection? Does your f/o often hug or kiss you randomly and vice versa? Also, how often do you cuddle?

Random words of praise, mostly. That’s really all he can do without manifesting through the symbiote. Which, again, he doesn’t like to do. He mostly does it when I’ll be flustered in public because he thinks it’s funny.

When watching tv together, who´s more likely to talk the whole time while the other tries to focus on the movie/show?

He usually doesn’t pay attention, it’s just me and Howl watching and sometimes making stupid commentary. Occasionally we’ll get the shit scared out of us with a random “I don’t get it”.

How good is your f/o at fixing things? Are they the kind of person who tries to fix everything themself, or do they prefer to call someone to do the job whenever something in their home is broken?

If something gets broken, the only thing that happens is me stress-crying about it because I don’t know how I’m gonna afford to get it fixed. I am utterly helpless because I have the technical know-how of a sea slug. And what the fuck is he gonna do? Ride the emotional rollercoaster is what.

Does your f/o tend to be forgetful? Are they one of these people who always forget where they put their keys, their phone etc.? And if so, how often do you have to help them search?

Absolutely not, it’s me that has an actual 3 second memory. He COULD remind me, but he’s like “You SAID not to meddle with your personal life so :T”, and then Howl has to be like “OH FOR THE LOVE OF- KEYS! COUCH!”

How does grocery shopping with them go? Do they like to look at everything and maybe end up buying a lot of unnecessary things, while forgetting the things they originally planned to buy, or are they well organized and only buy the things that are actually on the shopping list?

I am an in and out shopper, I fucking hate grocery stores. So does he. He actually DOES remind me of what I came for because it’ll get us home quicker. He also gives me snide remarks when I eyeball things I shouldn’t buy.

Does your f/o have any habits that you find annoying? If so, how do you handle it?

As if ONE symbiote didn’t make me more prone to violence on top of the violent impulses from being bipolar, he’s SUCH an instigator. He’s like an anti-reasoner in which he’ll try to pick apart my resolve by telling me WHY I should be violent. One can only practice so much mindfulness to keep themselves from mauling the next person on a scooter rolling down the sidewalk. 

A habit of them that you find adorable?

Little symbiote-isms like the sounds he makes and the way he communicates with Howl. It’s so fucking neat to listen to/feel because it’s just so alien. 

Do the two of you like to play games together? If so, what kind of games? And who wins most of the time? Also, how do both of you handle it if you lose?

Me: -playing ANY video game- Knull: Your hand-eye coordination is TERRIBLE.  Knull: You have an EXTREME case of cognitive-defici- Me: I KNOW!!!!

[teaandcartography]

March 20th, 2024 - Therapy? Why?

I've had my fair share of experience in therapy. Good and bad.

The bad experiences were at the beginning of my search, when a therapist, though his intentions were good, tried to "heal" me through hypnosis.

I certainly didn't believe in hypnosis being an effective way of helping someone process their childhood trauma, but others might do. I remember my 15-year-young self thinking it was all bullshit and I just stopped going to those appointments. Thank God I didn't have to pay for said appointments.

My parents have expressed before that therapy is a waste of money. "All therapy is good for is the fact that you pay the therapist to tell you what to do," is what they said to 19-year-old me who had already given up on trying to seek comfort from her parents. So the next best thing was to seek help outside of school and family.

I mean, sure, you pay for a good therapist to tell you how to approach your life. Because clearly, something isn't working and you need help figuring out what does work.

The therapists I've seen in the last 7 years actually managed to give me new ways to process my negative feelings.

I haven't had $u!c!dal tendencies since my teenage years, and the advice that my therapists have given me definitely helped me prevent having said tendencies again.

The same with s3lf-mut!lat!on. I may only have been clean from SH again since four days ago, but at least I am not giving myself new scars that I have to look at for the rest of my life.

Therapy itself won't heal you. At least, I don't believe so. It's in the advice that therapists give you, that you find ways to love life again.

It's a painfully slow process and even I have had thoughts like:

"I should be over this by now."

"I'm too old to feel this way."

"I'm too young to feel this way."

"There are people who have it way worse."

"Others can deal with this just fine, why can't I?"

and those thoughts are self-destructive as hell too.

Some of us just need more time to heal or to pick ourselves back up. Just because it takes us a little longer, doesn't mean it's not happening, and we need to give ourselves more credit for that.

But realizing that is not as easy as one might believe. People with no $u!c!dal tendencies/thoughts, or people who have not experienced depression for longer than a season, might not realize that believing that we're doing well is extremely difficult.

We need that external push. And sometimes, that encouragement from a friend or family member just isn't enough. That's where therapy can be very useful.

But I also understand that therapy isn't accessible to everyone. It should be, but it's not. Everyone deserves to be able to walk into a therapy clinic and just say: "I need help. I don't feel good and I'm afraid I'll do something I can never undo," without having to worry about putting themselves in severe financial debt.

Unfortunately, that's not the world we live in right now. So here's me, your digital sister, to make you aware that you are not alone, and that there are ways for you to try and heal without the help of a professional.

I'm not a professional, far from it. And I'm sure you've already tried numerous things to try and make yourself feel better. It gets annoying to have people tell you over and over again to:

make a daily schedule, get into a pattern of living

make new friends

take a walk

write it down

take a shower

make yourself some tea

Even I found myself rolling my eyes when someone lists off these things. Like, yeah, I get it, those things might work for you, but they don't for me.

But I think we underestimate how having a daily pattern/ritual actually works. It's about training your brain to go: "Oh, we're taking a shower. Time to let everything go and relax. Tomorrow is another day we can try."

Yes, it's easier said than done. But repetition works wonders. The same way you teach a dog how to sit, you can train yourself that by doing something specific, you can let things go.

I'm still working on this myself. Right when I come back from work I change my clothes, or take a shower, eat food, and then sit down to do what I want to do. Me-time is extremely important, to have fun is extremely important.

The point I'm trying to make is that you can heal and work on feeling better about yourself. If you can't get help from your GP or a therapist, doing research about self-help and mindfulness is the next best thing.

But in order for any of that to work, you have to start believing that you can get through whatever you're going through.

If you're someone who's already saying: "This won't work for me anyway so I'm not even going to try," then all I can say to you is...

don't you dare take others down with you because you can't be arsed to help yourself.

[tabernaclehearts]

A Karaoke Room for One

The desire to sing has been on my mind lately.

There are lots of songs that I want to sing, songs that I like to sing. Just a week ago, the song "Can't Take My Eyes off You" by Frankie Valli was blaring through my headphones as I ran to class, and I would mouth the words and when no one was looking, I would press my fingers into fists and hold them close to my chest, shaking them to emphasize the words.

I love you, baby And if it's quite alright I need you, baby To warm the lonely night I love you, baby Trust in me when I say

On the speed-walk to class, I dream of making the grand performance of singing it to someone, swirling them around in a graceful dance and locking eyes with them as I circle their figure. I imagine a band complete with trumpets and bass, I imagine myself wearing something bright, colorful, and sparkly for once. I think I smile with teeth, fangs turned pearly with numerous whitening strips. I hope you're smiling, too. I think of spinning you until you're dizzy, until the darker parts of your eyes take on the form of a whirlpool, pulling me into you—close, closer, closer still.

I have a lot of respect for people who do those things, wearing their hearts on their sleeves, achingly honest and pure. Most of the time, I think I do the opposite—I think I do a lot of lying, a lot of hiding due to my discomfort. The fear of being perceived fills my mouth with cotton balls and renders my body immovable and heavy. I want to be loud like them.

One thing I am painfully aware of is that I am horribly tone-deaf. I was not blessed with K-Pop idol luckiness in both vocal talent and physical looks. As much as I love music and enjoy singing, it's embarrassing with an audience. Sometimes I pretend that I don't know the lyrics to songs just to avoid singing out loud. Sometimes I pretend that I don't know the song or the band at all. It's that bad, unfortunately. But I love music. In fact, my friends say that the only way they can check if I'm alive is to watch my Spotify activity, running songs 24/7.

So I'll go to a karaoke place by myself. Just to sing everything I've ever wanted to say, everything I've ever wanted to sing. Whether it's the sweetness of "Can't Take My Eyes off You", the bitterness of The Weeknd's "Save Your Tears", or the sadness of "The Other Woman" by Lana Del Rey, I will sing them with my whole heart for myself, and no one else. I will sing until my throat turns sore, I will sing until my heart beats frantically in my chest, I will sing until I start crying, and even more past that. I will sing and scream and yell and wail into the microphone until they say my time is over, until they beg me to stop, until they drag me out into the dark, abandoned streets by my hair.

And only then will I turn quiet.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Perfect Paradise Ch.16: Can We Work it Out? Can We Be a Family?

Summary: A dream fulfilled.

---------------------

A sigh left Marinette as she leaned back, the last outfit of the main line passing inspection. Her team was experienced and capable. She should really trust them more but Marinette preferred to double check. Needed to double check. To make sure anything that could conceivably go wrong wouldn't.

She took a breath.

Marinette had gotten a better handle on her anxiety as she got older. But the whole divorce really drained her. So here she was triple checking dresses that didn't need it.

Turning her catastrophizing into an asset was a skill that served Marinette well as Ladybug.

Like with the akuma victim earlier that day. Ladybug always had a backup plan... Except, it was Viperion's plan. Viperion's successful plan.

For years Marinette told herself that was different! Viperion didn't just see the future he experienced it. Several versions of it. Luka had more information than her that's why she let him take point sometimes. That was all.

...

Marinette's eyes ran along the contours of the dress. Black, sleek, with lines of green accentuating it's form.

"Ma'am?" Marinette's assistant spoke up. "If that's done we still have the-"

"Actually... I think we're done for the day. I'll leave it in the team's capable hands." Marinette stood and began heading for the door.

Her assistant stared for a second before hurrying to catch up. "Oh-kay? Um, the models are ready for practice runs."

"Tell their supervisor to contact me if there are any problems."

"... Jen and Dina are fighting again."

"I will fire them if they can't act like adults."

Marinette saw the surprise flicker across her assistant's face. "What? I mean, I am the boss. I can delegate."

Apparently it was a day for uncharacteristic boldness because her assistant replied: "Yes, we know that ma'am but we were wondering if you did."

Marinette's eyes narrowed. "Who's this 'we'?"

"... No one!"

"Uh-huh." Marinette smirked.

After almost twenty years her employees were painfully aware of Marinette's micromanaging habits. They were saints about it but more permanent progress on Marinette's part was overdue.

They passed the traditionally inspired lines of clothing. Accepting that Marinette wasn't as up to date on Chinese fashion as she hoped had been a bitter pill to swallow. But she had quickly rectified that. Hiring talented designers from her mother's country and powering through the embarrassment of the foux pas.

Her assistant stopped walking as a notification pinged her tablet.

"C'mon, we'll finally have you home at a decent hour," Marinette teased, walking towards the front doors of her building.

"Ma'am!" Her assistant held out her tablet. It was the gossip section of the evening news. A muted video of Nino sprinting into a cab to escape the paparazzi played. With the headline: "Adrien Dupain-Cheng's New Husband Refuses to Deny Cheating Allegations".

Marinette felt her jaw drop as she stared at it... What the fuck? She turned her head back to the exit. Now that she was looking there were at least two news vans visible past the glass doors. Probably more.

"Fuck that." Marinette marched to the elevator. "Call the hovercar."

Her assistant's fingers blurred over the tablet as she sent instructions. "But you said that was only for-"

"This definitely counts!" Marinette hit the button for the roof. Pulling out her phone and holding it to her ear.

There was a click as her best friend answered.

"Alya!"

"I'm guessing you saw," Alya replied distractedly. Voices and movement audible on the other side.

"Did you know they-"

"Nino mentioned it. Fucking gossip channels are eating into our viewership! I'm gonna need interviews from Adrien and Nino to get ahead of this bullshit... God I hate that."

"You didn't tell me?"

"Marinette, girl, I love you. But it wasn't really my place to say. Was it?"

"... I guess not."

Alya seemed to pause what she was doing. "Where are you?"

The elevator dinged open just as the hovercar pilot was starting the engine.

"On my way home."

(Continued on AO3)

[kazdencade]

Here's to a New Year

“Happy New Year” feels inaccurate this year… All things considered, I'm relatively cognizant of the good and bad things/events of this year (world, politics, pandemics, etc., generally aside), but I'm not particularly happy, and I'm not particularly sad, if anything it feels empty. It’s like… what is neutral new year? Is that a thing? I think it’s where I am.

Thing is, in my professional life, I’ve thrived. My movements in that space have been on a trajectory that I’ve only envisioned. I’m proud of that. I’ve worked hard, and although not done doing My Time, have put in The Time. Even in the midst of the world around us kind of doing it’s best to fall apart, I’ve some come out in a place that is comfortable (when I’m being not ridiculous, and treating my bank account with a modicum of respect). I’m where 26 year old me would say, I’ve found success, which, by all means has changed a lot since then, but still, when it all came to be, I was struck with, “I did it”. And although it’s often just me enjoying these successes (I don’t really tell people about things like this, it feels like bragging, and I hate that), it feels good.

I say this is in the context of lots of people have lost things this year, and I don’t think I’m some unique beast in the world, but, I’ve lost a lot this year. I feel like my personal life is in shambles. It feels without direction, without community. Homeless is the word that comes to mind. I have friends (virtual and in-person, lol, the latter of which we're not really talking about here because they don't really want anything to do with the "games" part of my life). Plenty-enough. I cherish them. Almost to the point of suffocation – never outwardly, but damn near always in my own head space, which is ironic because they’re literally voices in my head (read: headphones, I’m not fucking crazy, maybe), and time spent. I need them. They nourish me in ways that only they can (I don’t even know if they know that/this). To my own credit, I walked away from some things this year that I felt no longer suited me. People, places and homes (if you will), that were my spaces of rest and restoration. They started to feel foreign, and I felt like I didn’t belong. It stopped making sense, and I felt critical and frustrated. But, I knew then, and it’s painfully evident now that it was such a HUGE part of who I was (for lack of a better phrase). I stand by my decisions, even if often times there’s sadness attached to them. I’m telling myself that caring for ones (my)self is sometimes sad, and sometimes painful, and that sometimes letting things go is the right decision. I believe this to be true, but it doesn’t change my humanity (read: the way humans are liable to feel) in the matter.

I’m grateful for the FFXIV community. Deciding to make a Kazden (“Kaz”) dedicated Twitter was a decision I didn’t really see for me, but with encouragement from folks, here we are, and it’s been generally marvelous. The way WoLs pour into each other; it helps fill my proverbial cup. My gposes have seen some growth, and I want to continue that. A lady from a my younger years, used to say, “it’s always nice to have a fan”, and FFXIV Twitter tells me that that is true. I love that people love Kaz. But, if I’m being completely honest (which I have no reason not to be considering), it’s sometimes difficult for me to separate myself from Kaz. I created him as an extension of me, and not really a separate entity. There’s a complexity there that I feel like I’m constantly analyzing and there’s the Me that is constantly battling against the not-realness of him and the actions that take place on the platforms where which he exists. He wants to be loved, but that’s because I do. He wants the attention from specific spaces because I do. He’s jealous, and reactionary because I am. He’s aware of certain worldly things because I am. All that said, I'm thankful for the followers, and the appreciators of Kaz and his goings-ons.

I enter the new year conflicted about a lot of things, which is kind of unlike me. I’m generally very sure-footed. There’s an emptiness in this new year that I didn’t think would be here, but it’s something I’ll need to explore. My sense of balance has to evolve, I have to evolve, I have to grow – to where, into what, I have no idea.

So, here’s to a new year.

[soracities]

i am painfully, painfully in love with someone and if they ever felt the same about me, i need to wait another 4 years until we can really be together… i am in so much pain, i have so much love for them, i want to be with them so badly, i enjoy talking and spending time together so badly. i have so much tenderness and warmth for them. i wish we would end up together, i wish they felt the same about me. im in so so much pain its so unbearable and i literally have no one to talk this to i convince myself things will work out well in the end but sadness and pain keep devouring me, i cant anymore, i have so much love and i dont know what to do with it.. im so sorry to bother you.. im so sorry. i hope you will be having a good day.

i think, after a certain point, you need to take the necessary steps to remove yourself from this situation as much as you can. you can tell them how you feel in order to get it off your chest and potentially get closure, or you can make the decision to no longer maintain a relationship with this person in order to allow yourself to get over them and move on. yes it will hurt (terribly), yes you will miss them (unbearably) -- but you have to measure that pain (which will pass) against the pain you are in now, and have been in for i don't know how long -- it's a pain that, for as long as you are carrying it with no hope of a release, will only build and build and get so much heavier to bear. i think it's also worth noting that for as long as you hold on to it like this, you will never be able to see the situation clearly for what it is; if they don't feel the same about you, then as long as you have not heard them say it to you directly, you will always hold on to maybes and what ifs, you will hope and hope and hope and in that you will only dig yourself further into a situation that already seems impossible and unendingly painful. and you deserve so much better than that.

i think the people who are meant to be in our lives will, one way or another, find their way into them, for however long that may be. they will bring us joy and comfort and laughter; they'll teach us any number of things, about themselves, about others, about ourselves, too. sometimes we meet people whom we love so deeply but cannot be with, and may never have been meant to be with -- this does not mean that love is wasted, or rejected, or that it is meaningless because the object of our affections cannot return it in the way we hope; what it does mean, i think -- what it actually gives us in return -- is a sudden awareness of how deep our capacity for love and affection and kindness can go. it shows us our potential as human beings, not just as lovers. it proves to us that no matter what we may feel or doubt about ourselves, no matter our insecurities, our flaws, our fears, we have the potential to center another being so deeply and so openly within our world, so profoundly within ourselves, that we become more open, more expansive, more attentive people as a result. you love someone and so you pay attention to the things this person loves, the things they hate, the things that hurt them; you listen to their stories, you try to make them laugh, to make them feel cared for and important; you see something in your day-to-day life and think of them and tell them you thought of them (or you do not say it in so many words -- but you forward it to them, perhaps with a very (lovingly) sarcastic comment, which amounts to the same thing). all of these things open us up, they pull us out of our solipsistic little solitude and place us in the world more than anything else -- i'm no longer an I confined to the echo chamber of myself and my own worries and shortcomings and insecurities -- i'm an I who is looking at You. you have, in caring so deeply for another person, made a space in the world that extends far beyond yourself and touches another life, transforming it if only in making things a little easier, a little more fun, a little less lonely -- and that is never a small thing. it's the most vital, most important thing in the world.

that you have had the capacity for all this is not negated by how much the other person returns your affections -- i would go so far as to say that this is not necessarily the point. that someone you're in love with doesn't feel the same is not nearly as unbearable when you realise that a) this is not a reflection on you, or a rejection of you as a person, or proof that you are unworthy (which is, i promise you with all my heart, an utter lie) and b) having met them has shown you how much love you're capable of giving in the first place and how much tenderness you can hold for another -- and all of this in spite of the many voices in our heads (and the world) that would have us bury these feelings or tell us we don't deserve to have them, or that it will never amount to any good.

it's been said over and over again, by people far more experienced and also far, far wiser than i am, that there is no escaping the grief that attends to love, in all its variations; we have to reckon with it and hold it when it comes, or else risk the hell of not loving at all. and of all these observations, the one that's been most important to me is the simple assertion that it hurts as much as its worth.

i'm not going to pretend to imagine the pain you're going through, nor do i want to dismiss any of it; all i really want to say is that all this love that you have is a gift, and you need, as much as you can right now, to turn it inwards and gift it to yourself to help you through this. and to do so means acknowledging the beauty and the joy that this person's presence has brought to your life, and also acknowledging that this presence, at this moment in time, is not allowing you to move forward in the way that you need to move forward. it's loving yourself enough to allow yourself the courage to end something that is both incredibly meaningful to you and a source of great pain that you do not deserve to go through. i'm not saying it will be easy, i'm not saying it will happen overnight -- but it will, little by little, with a great deal of care and patience, become less painful and you will slowly see a way forward opening up for you. if nothing else, i want you to know that, for all your heart has poured into this person and the hope of being with them, they are not the only chance you will have in your life of loving someone or of being loved in return, even if it may seem like it right now. there is no end to the loves you can give, and there is no end to the loves that will find you either. but in order to allow them in you need to first allow yourself, ever so gently, to clear enough space for yourself in order to recognise them and let them be a part of your life, whatever they look like when they find you, and whenever that may be.

i don't know if any of this will help you, but i hope even just a little of it does. i am sorry again, for all that you are going through -- for whatever it's worth you have all my love through it, if u want it x

[funkymbtifiction]

Hello. I am an INFP and I'm constantly reminded that I am too self-absorbed, too selfish and that hurts people. I love those people and I don't want to harm anyone, but I don't conceive any other way of existing. Everything, big or small, pass through my filter and I cannot let go. What can I do? Only a very few people don't read me as self-centered and understand my reasoning. When confronted, I see how I cause pain but my way makes so much sense that I can't shift to another. Am I making sense? How can I stay true to myself and don't spit on others while doing it? (One of those persons is a fe-dom soc-dom, I see so much contrast between us.)

It's hard for me to offer specific advice when I'm not sure what you are doing that is causing others to accuse you of being selfish. Are you making every conversation only about what interests you? Are you self-inserting into situations that have nothing to do with you, and pushing your feelings or opinions to the forefront? Are you so caught up in your own little world that you sit on the couch surfing the internet, completely oblivious to an EFJ who is having to do all the work of getting dinner on the table? Did you forget to call when you went out late, leaving someone waiting up for hours wondering where you were? What kind of things are you doing, that is causing you to be accused of self-centered-ness?

Once you know what those things are, one way to work around them is to do the opposite of them -- to ask yourself, "Does this situation involve me, or would drawing attention to myself right now be selfish and pull attention off someone else?" Or thinking about, "Do I take over the conversation at dinner, ignore what doesn't interest me, and bring everything back to my current obsession? If so, should I ask my family or friends what's going on in their life, and ask them questions about it, so they get a sense that I am genuinely interested in them?" You could put aside your phone or laptop, get off the couch, and set the table for dinner, or text your parents/roommate that you are on your way home or it will be another hour.

Sometimes, FPs aren't aware of how much "me-ing" they are doing, until someone points it out to them in a rather unkind way. It hurts, but it's also an opening for a growing experience. I do that NFP thing of getting super excited and into a topic, and when I was younger, I used to just talk about that, constantly, to anyone who would listen. I could branch into it from any other conversation (Ne :P) and bring it around to my fascination. And then one day when I was sixteen, and I excitedly injected into a conversation, "That's just like what so-and-so was going through!" (current historical fascination), someone at the table snapped at me, "You know, not every conversation is about you." I felt slapped. I wondered, "Am I really that self-absorbed?"

I stopped talking as much, because I realized in that moment that I was doing that more than listening, and boring people. I became painfully aware that day of one of my flaws, in that I wasn't always paying attention to whether people were genuinely interested in what I had to say, or just listening politely. And I have been in situations where other NFPs have done the same thing to me -- gone on and on and on about whatever obsession they are into, from Captain America to Roman history, without ever stopping to wonder, "Gee, does she even care about this fandom? or watch that show? Is this even interesting to her? Maybe I should find a mutual topic!"

I will say one thing: if you want EFJs to lay off accusing you of being selfish, it's important to learn to remind yourself to look at those around you and ask what they might need to talk about, or do, or need from you, as a friend/family member. Does your mom need you to voluntarily do the dishes on a regular basis? Does your EFJ friend need you to ask her how she is feeling, rather than talk about your current obsession? Do you need to go along with something, even if it's not really want you care about, just to make someone else happy? If it's not violating your core beliefs, sometimes it's worth doing just to keep the peace, make someone else feel good, or avoid being the fly in the ointment. (Example: "I really don't care about this movie, but it's something my boyfriend wants to do, so... instead of arguing to go see what I want instead, I'll go along with it.")

To be less self-centered means being AWARE of how much of your thoughts are centered around yourself, and CHOOSING to center them on those around you. Its not wrong to filter things through your own feelings about them, since you have no choice in the matter, but it gives you a more mature perspective to broaden your focus. :)

That you want to change is a first step. Practice looking outward. It won't put your inner being at risk, but it will make you more in tune with those around you and strengthen your relationships.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Too Late (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @fuchsiagrasshopper's 200 Followers Writing Challenge. Congratulations again, love 💝

This is a variation on Ivar's death. Consider yourself warned. And... sorry 😔

The prompt, from the song Too Late, by Ashes Divides, is in bold and italics.

@zuxiezendler - Thank you for reassuring me (I needed it) and for beta reading this for me 🌺

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: Ivar is about to go to war against Alfred. His eyes are very blue, though.

Warnings: major character death; mention of blood and fatal wound (nothing graphic).

Words: 1815

When a hand lingers on his forehead, Ivar slowly opens his eyes before shifting in the makeshift bed and eventually sitting upright, allowing you to take a seat next to him. Looking at him with concern, you tilt your head to the side, one of your hands resting lightly on his chest while the other grazes his thigh.

Studying him, you bite your lower lip. "Your eyes have turned deep blue, Ivar. You know what that means, remember?" Ivar snorts and then rolls his eyes, visibly annoyed. You don't stop, though. "Hvitserk told me. Your brothers used to watch over you. They knew that when your eyes turned blue that you were in great danger of breaking your bones. And they would say 'Not today, Ivar. Not today.'"

Knitting his brow, your lover wearily rubs a filthy hand over his face, his eyes never leaving yours. "I remember." He finally nods, a half-smile curling his lips. "I know."

"You could let Hvitserk take command, Ivar. You'd stay behind, for once. I could even stay with you." You know you're walking on eggshells, but when Ivar answers, there's surprisingly no anger in his voice. Though the calm determination in his gaze tells you that arguing is pointless.

"No, Y/N." He shakes his head and grabs your hand, playing absently with your fingers. "No," he repeats, "Hvitserk must lead the back-up troops, it has to be someone I trust. As for you, I need you on the battlefield. You're our best shieldmaiden, and you know that. And...", he tilts his head, lightly shrugging, "I don't think we can defeat Alfred if I'm not there too... You know..." He taps his forehead with his pointer finger and you know exactly what he means. He's right. His men are fearsome warriors, but they sometimes – most of the time – need guidance when fighting, and who else could do that better than Ivar, with his cunning and extraordinary strategic mind?

No. He won't change his mind.

For the briefest moment, you think you should tell him. But no. It wouldn't change anything. You're not deluding yourself, he'd still go. And he'd demand that you stay behind. And that's not happening. It's an option you refuse to even consider. If he goes, you go. That's who you are. Both of you. A king – a warrior – and a shieldmaiden.

You'll tell him afterwards. Once it's all over. Once Alfred is defeated.

"Okay, then." Leaning in, you give him a peck on the lips before standing up. "Promise you'll be careful."

Flashing you a reassuring yet tired smile, he nods. "I always am."

The battle rages for hours now and you know you should feel it in your bones. The pain. The exhaustion. But you don't. Unharmed and powerful, a shield in your left hand, it's like you're flying, dodging blow after blow, slicing throat after throat, driving your trustworthy sword into chests or guts, as you slash your way through the enemies. Exhilarated, you shout war cries and you know that if they are cathartic to you, they scare the Saxon soldiers. The thought makes you laugh – and indeed a crazy laugh escapes your throat as you run forward, swinging your blade from side to side, momentarily crouching down as an axe flies over your head.

Attacking a Saxon with your shield, you beat him savagely with repeated blows to his skull before skewering him with your sword. As he falls to the ground, already dead, you look up to the sky for a second, and silently thank the gods, a beaming smile adorning your face. You love that. You're never more alive than on the battlefield. As you lower your gaze, eager to slaughter more and more Christians, your eyes catch something on the left.

And it's like the world stops spinning.

Like your heart stops beating.

And you stop breathing.

Petrified, you can't comprehend what you're seeing. It doesn't make sense. It can't make sense. Why is this Saxon stabbing Ivar? How can it be? Why isn't your lover fighting back? Why is he bleeding? Your shield and sword slipping out of your hands, the ringing in your ears is suddenly deafening, and for a fleeting second, you think you might throw up. But you won't. Because that can't be real. You're hallucinating, for sure. It can't be happening. It doesn't make sense. It can't. It simply can't.

A sudden cry of pain and the distinctive and all too familiar sound of a broken bone snap you out of your stupor and you rush over to your lover – 'Not today, Ivar, not today, no' – dropping to the ground next to him, your hand grazing his cheek. As you see the state he's in – his left leg unnaturally bent at the knee with exposed bone; his stomach covered with blood – a shiver runs down your spine and you gasp, filled with horror. You want to cry, and scream, and shout but instead you inhale deeply, blinking several times before locking eyes with his bloodied ones. Your man needs you.

"I'm here, Ivar, I'm here." As you carefully place his head on your lap, his hand grabs your arm, squeezing it. His eyelids flutter as he tries to focus his gaze on you. Weakly raising his free hand, he fails to touch your face and something between a sob and a whine escapes his lips. Gently intertwining his fingers with yours, you can't help but repeat yourself. "I'm here, my love, I'm here."

A faint shake of his head and then he speaks, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper. "You... You should leave... Leave, Y/N.." He swallows painfully, and a sob chokes in your throat as you see blood running out of his mouth. You shake your head, not trusting your voice, but Ivar, your stubborn lover, keeps speaking, mustering all his strength. "Leave, my love, you're... not safe... here..." He then lets out a shuddering breath, loosening his grip on your arm.

Raising your head and looking around, you see that your fellow warriors are gone. Someone, Haakon probably – you always saw Ivar's second in command as a coward – must have sounded the retreat, now that their king is down. You don't have time to dwell on it though as you realize that the two of you are now surrounded by Saxon soldiers, their swords pointed at you. You coldly glare at them for a few brief seconds before meeting King Alfred's gaze. The Saxon commander seems shocked as he looks with wide open eyes at the man lying in front of you.

"Lower your weapons!" You barely hear Alfred's order, your mind taken with other thoughts, and you don't bother to see if his soldiers obey. The truth is, Alfred and his men are the least of your concerns right now. No matter what happens, no matter what they do, you're not going anywhere.

Once more, giving your undivided attention to your lover, you shake your head, speaking with conviction and determination. "I'm not leaving your side, my love."

Ivar frowns and winces. "I want you to... be safe..." He mutters with great effort, clearly in terrible pain. "It makes... no difference if... if you stay. I'm..." He squeezes his eyes shut, and you're suddenly aware of how pale he is, his hand on your arm now ice cold. He eventually speaks again, his breathing ragged and shallow. "I'm going to... die anyway. Y/N," his voice is choked, and your eyes are full of tears, "I'm...dying."

He's right. He's dying. There's no denying it. As heartbreaking as this thought may be, it is no less true. You've been in enough battles, seen enough fatal injuries to not delude yourself. With a wound that bad, there's no chance of survival. Absolutely none. You know it won't take long.

But it doesn't change a single thing. How could you leave him here, in this foreign land, surrounded by strangers – by enemies? How could you? You don't want to be safe, you want to be with him, as long as you can.

You may not be able to save him, but you can be there. You want to be there.

I will not lose you to a world that doesn't care

To the monsters that would have you.

Your hand cups his face as you swallow thickly, blinking back tears. "And I want to be here. I won't leave you alone." The pain in your heart is such that you can hardly speak. Taking the deepest breath you can, you then bite your inner cheek so hard that you can taste the blood in your mouth. "You're not alone, my love. You don't have to face this alone."

Ivar's eyes are closed, and for a moment, you're not sure he heard you. If you're being honest, you're not sure he's still there with you, even if he's still breathing.

But then, his eyelids flutter open, revealing glassy eyes. There's no more light in them; no more fight. "Not today..." He mumbles, despair clear in his voice. And suddenly his face crumples and his eyes are full of tears and you can almost physically feel the panic coursing through his battered body. When he speaks, sobbing very hard, it's to say what you never thought you'd hear him say, his voice as shaky as your hand on his face.

"I'm afraid."

It rips your heart out.

"I'm afraid."

It tears you to pieces.

"I'm afraid."

It destroys you.

You hiccup, a hand moving to cover your mouth. You want to take his pain away, you want to die and let him live. Your head is spinning, you're dying from the inside, you're not sure you can do it, but you have to. You know you have to.

So, gathering the courage you thought you didn't have, you nod. With tears rolling down your face, you swallow hard and say, "I won't tell anyone." Shaking with long, racking sobs, you try to smile. "No one will ever forget Ivar the Boneless. And I will never forget you, my love."

The fear in his haunted eyes almost unbearable, you can just soothe him, a reassuring hand on his cheek. Your tears join his, splashing on his face as you whisper again and again. "You're not alone, my love... I'm right here, next to you... You're not alone..." Sliding your arm under his head, you clumsily lie down next to him, curling your limbs around his body, cradling him.

Never surrender you, I always be there

I will be there to wrap myself around you.

And then, with a last gasp, your lover stops breathing.

And your whole world just shatters around you over and over and over...

Time loses all meaning.

You can't move.

Can't think.

Can't cry.

Can't feel.

He's gone.

And you realize you never had a chance to tell him...

He's gone.

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