#as to feel better but not punish or overexert myself?

[dreamsmthgold]

3 km walk yesterday, 3 km walk today! Cant believe i'm really out here improving my living conditions. Also i have started rereading Wuthering Heights by listening to the audiobook while I walk. It's delightful! I love it so much.

[reneesbooks]

find the vibe (x3)

so by the funniest aligning of the stars, i got three different tags for a find the vibe that managed to ALL fit ONE scene. @serpentarii tagged me to find "a crack in your reflection", @serenanymph tagged me to find "thank gd that's over", and @oh-no-another-idea tagged me to find "i thought you cared" and oh boy oh boy do i have the scene for you. this is the final scene of chapter 4 (The Witch Trials) (under the cut bc she is a bit long)

additionally tagging @macabremoons @writinglyra and @writingmargo to find the vibe of "what a strange coincidence"

Keelan knocks on Maura's door. “Princess Maura? You summoned me?”

The door flies open and she is standing there, her nightgown half-hanging off one shoulder and dark circles under her eyes. “Keys. Good.”

She yanks him into the room and shuts the door tight. Silver moonlight spills through the windows, the curtains thrown wide open. There are strange chalk markings on the floor and spellbooks scattered across nearly every surface. Maura's bed is still neatly made despite the late hour. Keelan rubs his eyes. “Maura, how long have you been awake?”

She glances at the bed. “I didn't go to bed, if that's what you're wondering. I stayed up to prepare the spell.”

“Spell?”

“Yes.” She picks her way around the books and papers on the floor, until she reaches the chalk circle. “I've been searching for a spell to find Birdie.”

Keelan rubs his eyes again, a headache pulsing to life behind them. “Maura—”

“I know—” Her voice breaks and he lowers his hand from his eyes to see her staring at the floor, her lip between her teeth. “I know you're mad at me right now. Just hear me out.”

He softens, because he hasn't been mad at her in days, not since the last of his burns faded to the physician's shock and he realized that she'd been using healing magic to speed up the process and ease the pain. It's only been a month since magic was outlawed, but the trials have progressed quickly. Keelan's lost track of how many have come before them. Maura's judgment is swift and harsh—he's gotten better at removing tongues and once, an eye. The man had stared too long at Maura's chest and Keelan had enjoyed carrying out the punishment. He doesn't think about it much, filing it away with the sick satisfaction of the raid captain's head in his hands.

“I don't think that Levi killed her,” Maura says, gathering bits of parchment off the floor and pulling Keelan back into the present moment. “I think he wanted us to think that he'd killed her, but I don't think he really did.”

“Why would he—”

“So that we wouldn't look for her.” He can see the desperate hope in her eyes and something in his chest cracks. She's been hiding this, even from him, because she's terrified of what she might find. What she might not find. He resolves not to argue any further, and is immediately challenged when she says, “I just need you to be here in case I drain myself by accident.”

“No,” he says, stepping forward over one of the spellbooks. “You're not taking any risks on this.”

“I thought you would want to help me.”

His hands clench into fists. “I won't stand here while you kill yourself.”

“That won't happen. It's not likely, but if I have to push—”

“Stop.” He reaches the chalk circle and hesitates there, not wanting to ruin the markings. He meets her eyes steadily. Her lip trembles. “You won't overexert yourself. Promise me.”

“I promise,” she says. “Come stand by me.”

He does as she asks, brushing his hand against hers. She grabs it, squeezing his fingers so tightly they feel like they might pop off. He squeezes back, offering comfort if she'll take it. He feels her relax next to him.

She speaks a few words in the magical language he's heard before and the chalk markings glow with golden light. She lets go of Keelan's hand and her nose scrunches up as she continues to speak. Crystals rise up from points in the circle and dissolve into golden threads of magic that weave together into a mirror, hanging in the air in front of Maura. She stops chanting and the mirror hangs there silently, its surface showing the two of them, pale and nervous.

“You have to speak the name of the person you're searching for,” Maura says quietly. She clears her throat. “Princess Brigit of Raedora.”

The mirror swirls with mist, the image of the two of them dissolving. The mist clears and the image that appears is one that's haunted Keelan for months. The pool of blood on the floor of Birdie's bedroom, the silver hair slowly turning red.

“No,” Maura says, her eyes brimming with tears. She curls her hand into a fist. “No, that can't be it.” She thinks for a moment. “Birdie. Show me Birdie.”

The mist swirls across the mirror's surface again before it only shows the two of them again. Keelan watches Maura's reflection as anger, despair, and then anger again flash across her face. She lets out a scream and thrusts her hand out, shattering the mirror with a bolt of golden magic. Keelan flinches as the pieces hit the ground and dissolve into golden mist. The hum of magic in the air fades.

“I spent months researching that spell,” Maura says, staring at the chalk circle. “I found it in Levi's research and I thought...” Her expression hardens. “If I found it in Levi's research, then he knows how to defend against it. I'll just have to find one he doesn't know already.”

“Maura,” Keelan tries to say, but she doesn't seem to notice, reaching for one of the books on the floor. She tips, her eyelids fluttering, and he catches her before she hits the ground. He swings her up into his arms and carries her to the bed, maneuvering carefully around the spellbooks and scrolls littering the floor. Maura's head lolls against his shoulder and he lays her down gently, arranging the blankets over her.

“You broke your promise,” he says softly, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “You overexerted yourself.”

“I'm fine,” she says, but the circles under her eyes are darker than ever and he can tell she's trying very hard not to pass out. “I'm fine.”

“It's over. It's okay.” He sets his hand on her face and smiles softly at her. “I forgive you.”

She turns her face into his hand, tears caught in her eyelashes. He stays with her until she is peacefully asleep.

lacuna taglist (ask to be added <3): @serenanymph @lyssa-ink @oh-no-another-idea @lena-rambles @ashen-crest @tragicbackstoryenjoyer @serpentarii @allianaavelinjackson @laurenisnot

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Episode 11

Is anyone else amazed at how quickly this place cleared out? It seems like it was less than an hour ago that they were still trying to kill each other, and now it’s just pristine and empty again. Magic of television! Also, reminder! Jin Guangyao is still mortally wounded and hobbling around.

I love how caring they both are for each other here. They really feel like brothers instead of a master/servant role. Nie Huaisang is worried for Jin Guangyao, and the feeling is mutual. It’s a relationship that I never paid much attention to on the first watch, so it’s nice to go back and see it again, and notice that it exists. You can sense the bond and the closeness between these two, and it’s quite nice—also makes the betrayal sting more.

Ah, and the little shared moment between Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao—it’s sweet that he hasn’t forgotten the kindness that Wei Wuxian has shown him—he always treated him with respect, regardless of his background. Also I wonder if Jiang Cheng feels annoyed here, because Jin Guangyao salutes him second….

See? Nie Mingjue was so pissed that he knocked over all his art and stuff. I like that little detail. We see the aftermath, but we didn’t see him actually do it. We didn’t need to—we know he’s upset and feels horrible that he even had to make that decision, let alone carry it out. We don’t know much about their relationship yet, but it’s very clear that they were close and they respected each other a lot, for Nie Mingjue to be this emotional about Jin Guangyao’s actions and banishment.

NMJ: What are you two going to do next?

WWX: Um, I’m going to go rescue my boyfriend.

Okay, so I know how the story goes, and Wei Wuxian does not go to the Cloud Recesses again for a very, very long time. However, they’ve already added so much, why couldn’t they throw that in? Just saying, I wouldn’t have minded more wangxian moments, okay? But this part makes me giggle a little, because Wei Wuxian does, indeed, want to go after Lan Wangji (the guy left, basically without telling him)—Wei Wuxian is worried about Lan Wangji going off alone, especially because of what the Wen Clan is up to. And of course Jiang Cheng has to cock block by saying that they need to go home, because if the Wens are after the Gusu Lan and the Nie Clan, then they are probably going for the Jiangs as well. Okay, okay, it makes sense, Jiang Cheng—but do you not understand how much I want to see more wangxian?

But the important thing there (important meaning the thing that I like the most) is that Wei Wuxian thinks of Lan Wangji first. It’s not the last time either. It’s part of the growing feeling that Lan Wangji becomes more his family than his family does (and I mean, they aren’t his blood relatives, anyway). Yes, Wei Wuxian loves his family at Lotus Pier, but you can’t say that he doesn’t also consider Lan Wangji part of his family. At this point, he’s already willing to risk his life for Lan Wangji. And the reverse is true as well. I’m not going to go off on too much of a tangent, but I love that this story features two people who fit in better with each other than with their actual families.

At this point, even if I didn’t know the story, I’d be thinking, “Okay, how hard are they going to fall?” Lotus Pier is too idyllic, too perfect, the people too friendly, too happy—you know it’s all going to come tumbling down. And this story is so tragic (we know that right off the bat—the first scene is Wei Wuxian dying) that you absolutely know that something horrible is about to happen.

But aside from that, I like in the book how Wei Wuxian basically has a tab open with all the vendors and Jiang Fengmian has to foot the bill. It’s cute that Wei Wuxian has a relationship with all these vendors (or at least that one in particular)—like he’s willing to be amongst the common people. It’s clear here that Jiang Cheng isn’t. They know his face, because he’s the clan leader’s son, but he doesn’t seem to share the same relationships that Wei Wuxian does. And obviously in this scene, he just wants to get home and see if everything is okay. He’s very family-focused.

I’ve been reading a lot of discourse on Jiang Cheng lately, and this scene makes me feel a lot of emotions. It’s true that Jiang Cheng’s character in The Untamed is different from MDZS. A lot of his angry remarks seem to come from a place of caring (at first), because it seems he really does care about Wei Wuxian quite a bit, and I think he considers him family. But at a certain point, his well-meaning, angry remarks start to become old, and I feel bad for Wei Wuxian that he is so eager to take the blame for things that were not his fault. He goes along with Lan Wangji (without permission), and Jiang Cheng says it’s his fault for putting them all in danger, for being punished, for everything—but Jiang Cheng didn’t have to sneak off either. Is he not responsible for his own actions? Had it really only been about his concern over Wei Wuxian, he could have just talked to their father (who knew about it and basically didn’t care, which is whatever). My heart kind of breaks for the rocky relationship these two boys have, and to know that it will completely crumble in just a short amount of time.

But that’s also what I love about it. What I love about Jiang Cheng is that he’s basically horrible. He’s self-centered, he’s unkind, he’s cold, and he can hold a grudge better than anyone I’ve ever seen. I truly enjoy the fact that he and Wei Wuxian have an irreparably damaged relationship by the end of this.

“In the afterlife, let’s still be brothers,” Wei Wuxian says, and Jiang Cheng pushes Wei Wuxian’s hand off of his shoulder. It’s such a kind of off-hand remark, but it’s so meaningful in this series, since the opposite ends up happening. But I feel like this is their relationship at its core: Wei Wuxian trying to be better and eager to please, while Jiang Cheng is always responding that he’s not good enough, always shrugging him off. No wonder he becomes so close with Lan Wangji, a man who sees Wei Wuxian for what he is, yet loves him anyway.

I’m really inclined to agree with Madam Yu here: Jiang Fengmian is not really prepared for what’s going to happen, and considering in this adaptation, I think he even knows more of what’s going on with the Wen Clan than he did in the book. I believe Wei Wuxian aptly pointed out in episode 10 that this indoctrination is basically to hold the heirs ransom while the Wen Clan tries to take control—it’s to keep the other clans from acting up so they can get what they want (which in The Untamed is the Yin Iron, of course).

But aside from that, this seems like the most unpleasant table to sit at ever, next to these two people who probably very rarely get along. I think in this scene, you find out that Madam Yu thinks that her husband isn’t tough enough or prepared enough for future attacks, that she believes he was cheating on her and in love with Wei Wuxian’s mother, and that Jiang Cheng is unfairly treated between the two of them. That’s a shit-ton of accusations right there!

I actually do wish that we knew more about Jiang Fengmian’s relationship to Wei Wuxian’s mother and why he took him in. They must have been very close. Maybe I’m not remembering correctly and they delve into it a little more later.

But! What I also noticed in this scene is that Jiang Cheng and his mother are wearing matching outfits, while Jiang Yanli matches her dad, wearing purple.

I audibly gasped when I saw this. He’s using one of Wei Wuxian’s talismans!! OMG!!!! But I never noticed that the first time, so I was super excited to see that! How cool is it that Lan Wangji respects Wei Wuxian enough to not only accept one of his talismans, but to also use it? I love that detail! They didn’t have to include a scene to show it, but the fact that they threw it in makes me so happy. And even when they aren’t together, it’s like they’re together! My heart!

And visually, it also looks cool, so I’m always pleased to see some more magic in this series, in particular the talisman magic, which always looks pretty. The butterflies here remind me of the butterfly that Lan Xichen sends Lan Wangji way later.

Oh, it’s also interesting that the characters that come at odds with Lan Wangji always point out his arrogance, but, like, he’s not. They mistake his coldness and his lack of verbosity to being conceited, but I really don’t think that’s the case. There is literally a Lan Clan principle that says not to speak unless you have something important to say. For example, the kind of chattering that Wei Wuxian does is against their rules. Lan Wangji has been brought up in this stark, spartan environment, and he has been a rule follower. Actually looking down on people for the sake of being arrogant is even against their principles—I mean…I don’t expect Wen Chao to know this, but people like Su She certain should.

I like the contrast here between Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen meditating, their incense burning, all the tea cups and knick-knacks sitting just so—and utter death and destruction outside. The Cloud Recesses are literally on fire and you two are sitting in here trying to meditate. I get it. Gusu Lan are probably the most pacifistic of all the clans, so this is totally against everything their clan is about. But really, you’re sending all your red shirts out there to die.

Also I have no idea why Lan Qiren is spitting up blood in this scene. Did he overexert himself…meditating? Maybe I’m being ignorant here. Maybe he’s doing some magic to keep the Wens at bay (even though they’re getting in and all…).

I keep having these moments where I find myself thinking, “I didn’t pay attention to this part at all the first time, but now I see how great it is.” And here’s another one. For starters, I didn’t notice Lan Xichen was crying—I knew he was getting really emotional, but I didn’t see the tears on his face until just now. Here’s a man only a few years older than Lan Wangji, possibly still a teenager at this point (in the book, he was still underage at the start of the Sunshot Campaign if I remember the notes correctly), who has no idea where his younger brother is (who he probably helped raise), pleading with his uncle to take the treasured books in the library and escape.

And then you have Lan Qiren, who also has no idea where one of his nephews is and showing genuine concern that he’s missing (once again), whose other nephew is offering up his own life in order to save his. Lan Qiren practically raised both Wangji and Xichen as if they were his own, so the last thing he wants is for either of them to come to harm. I really love this moment, seeing the Lans’ faces crumble with emotion and show that pain and grief that they are feeling, that they normally keep in check. You get to see that, yes, they are human too. And I think this is especially important with Lan Qiren, who up until this point has just been kind of a hardass. But it’s also great to see Lan Xichen fall apart like this, because he’s been so sage and wise, and so adult up to this point. Now we’re forced to see that no, he’s still young, he’s inexperienced, he can break down too.

I do think it’s kind of ridiculous that the rest of the Gusu Lan Clan is basically useless in a fight, but I will never turn down a boss bitch Lan Wangji entrance (no matter how corny it is). I mean, I guess he doesn’t do all that much. He throws some guqin chords at them and gives them time to hide in the Cold Pond Cave. But ultimately, it doesn’t matter, because he ends up giving up the Yin Iron shard anyway.

I’m sure he’s feeling like he’s let down at least his entire clan and, at most, the rest of the world who would stand against the Wen Clan. But I think he was faced with the choice of seeing his people completely come to ruin or handing over the Yin Iron—either one is bad, but in the end, he chose people over power. I think that’s very fitting with Lan Wangji in any adaptation: he will do what’s right, he will choose humanity over any kind of power. He’s later willing to give up everything for Wei Wuxian, because in the end, it’s not his reputation or his standing among the clans that matters. I like here that Lan Qiren doesn’t try and stop him either—he understands that the people are most important and allows his nephew to make that choice.

It’s a nice scene overall, plus more Cold Pond Cave looks, which I love (I can’t get over the frost in his eyebrows, it’s just sexy). And anytime Wang Yibo gets to show some emotion on his face is a good time as well—I love what he does with his micro-expressions, but that makes the impact of scenes where he shows a lot on his face even greater. Like, if his eyebrows knit together, you know something big is going down!

It’s super cute that Jiang Yanli is giving them all this food to take along. She can’t go, she can’t help them, and she can’t do anything for them once they leave Lotus Pier, so the only thing she can think of to take care of them is to give them food. It’s such a sweet moment, but there’s a desperation to her actions as well. There is such a tension in the air and it’s affecting the entire family. Also not surprising that Madam Yu isn’t there to see them off. (Wei Wuxian’s cute wave at the end—god, he’s too adorable.)

That’s the look of somebody who’s seeing their close friend after a long time, when they were worried sick about them, when they had written letters that went unanswered, when their first thought upon entering this place was, “Where is the Gusu Lan sect?” Either the director told Xiao Zhan, “You’re in love” or he just did it on his own, because I mean, come on.

Basically, Wei Wuxian’s priority here is Lan Wangji, and I won’t hear any different. He’s not thinking about the mission or his creed or the Yin Iron—he wants to know how Lan Wangji is doing. He heard about what was going on in the Cloud Recesses, and he just wants to know if he’s all right. Even after he stops saying, “Lan Zhan,” which he says several times (I didn’t count), he still continues to look at Lan Wangji.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

[writhe]

uhh body feels big cw for body image / weight stuff? 

i’m not sure how to write about this tactfully since this is something i don’t really talk to anyone about, not fully, and never have really tried to 

been having a lot of strange body feels, mostly good. i had a lot of VERRYYY disordered/harmful ideologies/practices surrounding food imposed on me at a very young age. it shaped the ways I’ve been able to engage with food/movement/the world around me in a way i always figured was sort of normal until i realized it really wasn’t 

it was a really alienating and isolating experience! i know it’s similar to a lot of other people’s, but it’s one that’s hard to talk about and explain and it’s also one that doesn’t feel good to describe 

but, like, I think this last year or so is the first time i’ve ever felt, like, fully comfortable in physicality. I it is also the first time since I was pretty young that I’ve just eaten whatever I want without restricting myself or making nonsensical, terrible rules and it’s felt really good. i’ve tried a lot more things. i’ve learned more about what i actually like 

and same goes for movement- it was very complicated. it was always in flux between overexertion or not doing anything at all (as a response to grief, mostly) and both of these things felt like punishments in their own right 

but, as of these last two years, i love hiking. i love walking. i love climbing, i love running, i love swimming and jumping around with halliwell. it’s just fun and i feel strong and very free. and i love that i can, like, do these things and then feel a hunger so deep without it feeling shameful and i love that i know I can just eat until i do not feel hungry and the best part is i’m doing it because i WANT to and because it feels good and not as some form of ritualistic & desperate self-harm

new feelings are arising these days. yeah, my body has changed. it still is. i gained a lot of weight when i was grieving -and i think that i had to in that it was survival and i wish it was met with, like, neutrality? decency?- and i still feel frustrated by the ways i was treated when that happened, even by people very close to me. I lost a bunch later (and, like, only after I’d worked though a lot of the restrictive habits so i’m really not trying to pedal any sort of ‘dieting and weight loss is good!’ thing here AT ALL, it was just that i want to point out that this coincided with me engaging with food/movement in a healthy and non-obsessive way)

but, like, idk, i mentioned in a group chat about wanting to go for a run after work and one of my friends, well-intentioned, was like ‘make sure you are eating and nourishing your body with food’ which was like....idk? made me feel weird. i can’t fault anyone for not understanding something so internal but it was hard not to bristle at the implication that i DON’T do that. i’m not mad or upset with anyone since obviously it was coming from a place of care 

but like....i’ve only seen my family a couple times in the past year and they want to talk about how different i look- what i’m doing, etc. outside of this, it has felt good to be honest if i do or do not want to eat something and my grandma was trying to get me to take, like, a huge tray of croissants home and I didn’t really want to. it wasn’t a stance- I’m just not a huge fan of bread and i feel bad about throwing away food that’s perfectly good. everyone thought it was a show of temperance and someone said something like “oh yeah i bet you don’t eat that anymore” and I just like....did not know what to say to that? it’s hard not to come off as combative when you gawk at something that’s supposed to be a compliment 

and then, like, my aunt pulled me aside and asked what i was doing to lose weight...like, straight up asked me if i was on a diet, and i was like, so caught off guard. i literally never ever want to try any sort of ‘diet’ again in my life. and like i wasn’t sure how to answer her question- because I’m doing literally nothing, there are no rules or restrictions. there is nothing that i don’t eat, there is nothing that I do out of some artificial obligation to creating a deficit. it’s just almost, like, if you stop torturing yourself by withholding food your body will just...stop feeling starved and desperate and you just stop thinking about it. I ended up telling her that I just started cooking for myself a lot more and figuring out what I actually really like but i felt backed into a corner and i’m still unsure how to articulate that prioritizing pleasure and fun over, like, unachievable aesthetics has kind of been the main goal versus, like, body changes that happened inadvertently as a result of making myself suffer less 

it still is very complicated. when people i haven’t seen in a while tell me i look great i don’t like knowing that they are comparing the current version of myself who has learned a better way to survive to the past version, who was also surviving the best he could. and it feels hard to not WANT to be a little showy with my body, where i feel strong and safe, but i’m worried it comes off as some sort of pointed ‘im smaller now!’ when in reality it’s just that, idk, i’ve never been ABLE to feel this good, even when i was, like, a lot smaller than i am now and was literally starving 

wrapping this up now. if you read this, thanks? 

[echo-bleu]

somewhere to begin

This fic fills the Hurt/Comfort tag of my @shadowhunterbingo​ card and it was also my entry for the @malecdiscordserver​ ‘s fic crawl!

Pairing: Pre-Malec

Length: 3k

Summary: 1x07 canon divergence. After he stays behind to hold off the Shax demons and give Jace and Clary a chance to escape, Alec is badly injured. It's a race to get him back to the Institute and get the closest warlock to heal him. Said closest warlock happens to be the one he recently shared his strength with.

Read on AO3.

Jace is almost back at the Institute when he feels it. It's not pain, not exactly. Parabatai wouldn't be much use in battle if they both went down every time one of them was injured. It's a specific kind of discomfort, though, that Jace has long learned to associate with Alec being hurt. He feels it often, these days, like it's always here at the back of his mind, but this is an order of magnitude worse.

He left Alec alone to hold the demons back, but the demons still found their way to him, Clary and Izzy − Jace should have known right away that it didn't bode well for Alec. Yet all he thought about was getting Clary and the cup to safety, not his parabatai, not his brother. What's wrong with him?

It's too late to reflect on this now. He needs to find Alec. Clary isn't back at the Institute yet, and neither is Izzy. They're all in danger, his siblings and the girl he's starting to care about too much. He has to do something.

The intensified discomfort says Alec is in serious trouble, and the one Jace needs to focus on. If he's alone and injured among Shax demons, and maybe something much worse…

He runs back, retracing his steps into the tunnels. Where demons were everywhere before, things are now eerily quiet. His left side aches, in places Jace knows his own body is fine. He stumbles, multiple times, as stabbing pains overtake him, and that can only mean one thing: Alec’s injuries are bad enough that his side of the bond is leaking. Jace is capable of blocking it, of saving himself from this pain, but hurting with Alec almost seems like a fitting punishment for leaving him behind.

His seraph blade is ready in his left hand, though, the other hand tracking his parabatai, resting over the rune. Every minute that passes, his worry eats at him, scenarios worse and worse coursing through his mind.

In the end, he's not even the one who finds Alec. He comes to a screeching halt at a tunnel intersection, where his tracking led him, to find Clary, a shell-shocked expression on her face, and Luke, who is dragging more than supporting a barely conscious Alec. Jace doesn't have time to see more before Clary steps in front of them. “Where did we meet?” she asks coldly.

Jace blinks at her tone, until his brain processes her question. Right, shapeshifter demons. What happened? “Outside Pandemonium,” he answers. “You bumped into me. It's really me.”

Clary sighs in relief and jumps into his arms. Torn between comforting her − comforting himself, the part of him that is weak in the knees at the opportunity to embrace her − and panicking for Alec, Jace allows the hug to last a couple of seconds. “Alec?” he asks fearfully.

Alec moans, weakly moving. Luke’s grip is clearly the only thing holding him up. Jace slips an arm around Clary's waist and guides her closer, without letting go of her. “A demon got him bad,” Luke says. “I've got the pack taking care of the others.”

Jace meets his eyes and nods. “We need to get him back to the Institute.” He fixes his eyes on Alec, taking in the blood − barely visible on his dark clothes in the dim light, but dripping from his exposed hand − the ruined jacket and pants, and more than anything, the pain in Alec's already feverish eyes as he struggles to focus on Jace's face.

“Jace,” he mutters, barely audible.

“I'm here, brother,” Jace lays a hand on his cheek, the only part of Alec he knows for sure isn't injured right now. “We'll get you home, okay?” He takes out his stele and starts drawing an iratze, but Luke shakes his head. “The venom is already in his blood, and the wounds are too deep. It won't be enough.”

“It will be something,” Jace says through his teeth, quickly moving his hand. But Luke is right. The iratze lights up on Alec's skin but dims immediately. Alec closes his eyes. “Stay with me,” Jace murmurs, slipping Alec’s free arm around his own shoulders. Alec cries out when it pulls on his wounds. “We have to go.”

The walk back is a bit of a blur. They can't run without risking to aggravate Alec's injuries, but Jace itches to go faster. Clary looks exhausted, worried, and he lets her lean against him on his other side, while holding up a barely responsive Alec. He feels useless. The worsening ache in his side isn't making it easier, but he still refuses to block it out entirely. Alec moans when he can't contain his pain, and each of the low sounds cut through Jace like a seraph blade.

“The infirmary,” he directs Luke. “We need−”

“Alec!” Izzy falls in step with them, trying to see her brother without slowing them down. “Is he−”

“What you need is a warlock,” Luke says. “He's alive,” he adds to Izzy. “For now.”

“Magnus Bane,” Clary says. “He'll help.”

“Call him!” Izzy tells her, directing Luke over to the medical table. They don't have a proper field medic in the Institute at the moment, let alone a doctor, so Izzy and her forensic specialty is the best they can do. “Put him down.”

Alex cries out weakly when Luke lifts him onto the table. His head lolls to the side, glistening with sweat. “He's fading,” Luke murmurs.

“The warlock better get here fast,” Jace murmurs, fishing for scissors to cut off Alec's clothes and get at his wound.

It's bad, worse than he feared. Alec's entire left side is a mess of torn flesh, deep claw marks going down his hip and leg. Even if it wasn't poisoned, it would have been more than an iratze can heal. As it is, the only thing they can do is try to slow the bleeding.

The minutes until Clary comes back, still on the phone, and a portal opens right in the middle of the infirmary feel like ages to Jace. He and Izzy share dark looks as they work, alternating between bandaging Alec's wounds and trying to keep him awake. Luke stands awkwardly to the side, arms and chest covered in blood. When Magnus walks through the portal, glittery and magnificent as ever, they take a collective breath of relief.

Magnus hisses when he sees Alex, naked but for his combat shoes that they haven't had time to bother removing, his modesty just barely covered by a sheet arranged to keep his injuries exposed. The compression bandages Jace and Izzy have put on his wounds are already drenched in blood, and Alec is paler than a ghost, mumbling feverishly.

“What happened?” Magnus asks, gently pushing Clary out of the way.

“Shax demons,” Jace answers. “Maybe something else, I don't know. We got separated.” Code for 'Alec stayed behind and I let him'. He swallows back the guilt. It's not useful, right now.

Magnus makes a complicated hand wave and blue light seeps into Alec's body, engulfing him. Alec reacts to it, almost leaning in, finally relaxing a little. The ache in Jace's side fades slightly. “What are you doing?” he murmurs. He should let Magnus work, but he needs to know what’s happening, he needs to know if Alec is going to be okay.

Magnus shifts his stance. “Just taking away the pain for now,” he answers. “So he can lose consciousness without his body fighting back. You have a rune for blood replenishing, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jace nods.

“I need to flush out the poison, and it will make him lose a lot of blood. He’s already going into shock, so I need you to draw the rune and keep it powered while I work.” Create new blood faster than Alec is losing it, Jace translates. He can do that. He grabs Alec’s right arm and finds an empty spot to draw the rune.

“I’m all set,” he says, trying to keep his eyes off the bleeding wounds, where Magnus has made the bandages disappear. He feels queasy, weak, and he no longer knows how much of that is coming from the parabatai bond.

Izzy slips beside Jace and grabs Alec's hand, just under the place where Jace is holding his wrist. Jace bumps shoulders with her, trying to convey silent support. Luke pulls Clary into his arms as she starts crying with exhaustion and fear.

Together, entranced by Magnus’ magic swirling around Alec’s body, they wait.

*

Magnus collapses into a chair, exhausted, as his magic fizzles out of existence. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he started working on Alec’s injuries, but it feels like an eternity. And he knows what he’s talking about.

He resists the itch to conjure a clock, knowing that his magic is all but depleted. It makes his skin crawl, being close to powerless in a Shadowhunter Institute of all places. Why did he let it go so far? He’s not normally this careless.

Because Alexander would not have survived otherwise, his brain supplies. But what is the life of one Shadowhunter? They die all the time. This wouldn’t be the first time one has died on Magnus’ watch, even. He’s never cared before. He’s made no mystery of the strong pull he feels toward Alec, even to himself, but is he already this important? Healing Luke was one thing, Luke is a Downworlder, one of Magnus’ own, and a useful political ally. Alec is none of these things.

“Magnus?” Clary’s high pitched voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he realizes that the Shadowhunters must have called him more than once. He shakes his head to clear the fog, but it only makes the room swim.

“Shit,” he murmurs, barely catching himself on the arms of the chair.

“You okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just overexerted myself a little.” His throat is dry, and he coughes to clear it, regretting again that he can’t just conjure himself a glass of water.

“Did you—Is he—” Jace struggles to find the words. Magnus raises his head to look at them, and finds all four of them – Jace, Isabelle, Luke and Clary – staring at him. He looks at the table where Alec still lies, now at eye level from his sitting position, and only now takes in the blood-soaked bandages around Alec’s torso and left leg, and the uncovered gashes still slowly leaking blood.

“He should live,” Magnus says. The others all sigh in relief. Isabelle leans her head against Alec’s in an intimate gesture of support, while Jace drops into a chair like a puppet whose strings have been dropped. “Once I’ve replenished my energy, I’ll be able to help him more, but for now the poison is out of his system. Shax wounds are resistant to magic though, so his body will have to do some of the healing on its own. You’ll need to stitch the larger gashes close.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Isabelle says. “We can get one of the Clave medics to help if we need to.”

“How long—” Magnus waves a weak hand toward Alec.

“You were working on him for about four hours,” Jace answers.

Ah. That would explain the magic depletion, and the deep fatigue setting in his bones. He lost track of time, too focused on getting every last tendril of poison out of Alec’s body. The table underneath Alec is covered in a disgusting mix of drying blood and ichor, dripping slowly onto the floor.

“Thank you so much for your help, Magnus,” Isabelle appears in his field of vision, and he realizes he’s zoned out again. “You will be compensated, of course. You’ll forgive us if we don’t take care of it tonight? Alec normally handles those things.”

Magnus makes a vague gesture with his head. Payment is the furthest thing from his mind right now – and it really shouldn’t be, but Alec looks pained and cold in his sleep, shivering from the blood loss, and he can’t keep his eyes away.

“Do you want to rest before you leave?” Isabelle asks. She looks exhausted too, they all do. Magnus blinks, willing his brain to process what she just said.

“Uh, can I just—” he waves vaguely toward one of the empty infirmary bed. He’s not sure he’d make it to another room if he tried, and he feels safer here than alone somewhere unknown in the Institute. No one will try to attack him here, not in the presence of the Lightwoods.

Plus, he finds that he doesn’t want to let Alec out of his sight. Not yet. He needs to make sure he didn’t do all this work for nothing, after all.

“We’ll have to make you move if someone comes in injured, but for now you should be good,” Isabelle says.

Magnus leans heavily on the arms of his chair to stand up. The dizziness hits almost immediately, but he rides it out until it abates enough to let him move. Isabelle frowns at him as he makes his way to the bed, hunched over and barely keeping his balance, but she doesn’t say anything.

Magnus hoists himself up on the bed with difficulty and doesn’t even bother kicking off his shoes. He turns on his side immediately to see Alec. Isabelle is laying down the supplies for stitches, while Jace traces runes Magnus is too tired to recognize on the rare blank spots left on Alec’s body that aren’t lacerated.

The two of them remove the bandages one by one to sew up the largest gashes, and Magnus watches them in silence, fighting sleep. He doesn’t even know why he’s resisting anymore. Alec isn’t out of danger by a far cry, but he’s stable for now, so this is his chance.

“Have you told your parents yet?” he asks suddenly. He’d rather know in advance if he runs the risk of Maryse and Robert Lightwood dropping in unannounced. How these people raised a beautiful soul like Alec is beyond him.

“They’re back in Idris for now,” Jace answers. “They’re waiting for news, but they’re stuck in Alicante unless he takes a turn for the worse.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Magnus says dryly. The effect is somewhat ruined by the huge yawn that follows.

“I’ve got things in hands here,” Isabelle tells him, her voice softer than it’s been all day. “You can rest. We’ll stay with him.”

Magnus fights for another few minutes, but he drifts off to sleep despite him, to the sound of Isabelle’s whispered instructions to Jace.

*

Magnus knocks lightly on the door of the infirmary, under the glare of the Shadowhunter who escorted him through the Institute. It’s been just under two days since he was here last. An emergency with one of his younger warlocks pulled him away as soon as he woke up from his magic-depletion-induced sleep, and he hasn’t been able to come back until now.

“Come in!” comes a voice from inside.

Magnus walks in to find Alec sitting up on his hospital bed, one hand curled around a pair of crutches and the other hovering over his injured side. He’s only wearing sweat pants, his rune-covered upper body exposed except for the stark white bandages taped to his side. He’s in a stand-off with Jace, who is gesturing wildly.

“Tell him he shouldn’t be up yet,” Jace immediately pulls Magnus in. “You’re gonna pull your stitches!”

“I’m fine!” Alec protests, though he very much does not look fine. Even sitting up is clearly an effort, and he has beads of sweat forming on his brow.

“Alright, children, that’s enough,” Magnus waves, seeing clear as day that Alec’s body cannot handle more of this. “If I’m going to check on my healing, I need you lying down,” he tells Alec. Then he points at Jace, “And you, shoo!”

Jace’s eyes widen for a second, before he opens his mouth to protest. Magnus doesn’t even bother listening, and he crosses the room to reach Alec’s side, slipping an arm behind his back to help him lie back down. Alec doesn’t resist, if only because his body is incapable of it.

It’s the first time they’ve touched since Alec shared his strength with him, and the contact is almost electrical, despite Alec’s state. Magnus can’t stop himself from stroking his thumb lightly against one of his runes, hoping Alec doesn’t notice. This isn’t exactly the best time to flirt.

“Will you let me have a look at your injuries?” he asks when Alec lets out a small sigh, without letting go of his arm.

“Why are you doing this?” Alec asks. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“You let me take your strength before. Allow me to return the favor.”

“You already have,” Alec murmurs. “Izzy said I would have bled out without you. You exhausted your magic for me.”

“Then let me make sure I didn’t work for nothing.” Magnus can’t resist a wink, and Alec blushes just a little, despite the fact that his eyes are half closed with fatigue. “I still want a date with you, and it wouldn’t do for you to die before we can plan it.”

Alec just blushes further and doesn’t say anything, like he’s exhausted his capacity to talk. It wouldn’t surprise Magnus, given how pale he looks.

Magnus gently prods at his side with magic. The wounds are, in fact, healing rather well with the help of Isabelle’s stitches and healing runes. Magnus doesn’t have Catarina’s knack for delicate mending magic, but he nudges the raw edges of the gashes together, trying to accelerate the body’s natural process. It should cut Alec’s recovery short by a few days, at least. With his Nephilim blood, he’ll be fully back on his feet within a week.

By the time he’s done, Alec has closed his eyes and he’s breathing slowly and deeply, his body almost relaxed. Assuming that he’s fallen asleep, Magnus drapes the sheets back over his legs and gently tucks them around his chest. But before he can leave, Alec’s hand catches his wrist.

“Hey, Magnus?”

Magnus looks back at his face and finds him staring intently at Magnus’ shoulder. “You’re all set, but you should wait a couple days before you try to get out of bed again,” he says.

Alec nods. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Magnus smiles. “You’re very welcome, Alexander.” He squeezes Alec’s hand around his wrist, briefly, and takes a step back. “Call me, for those drinks.”

Alec laughs weakly, and that sound stays with Magnus for a good while.

[peachyaone]

Don’t forget me.

Pairings: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Creds: @o1kawasgirlfriends on tiktok for thr idea

Forget me not disease: caused by unrequited love. As the victim watches the person they love fall for someone else, they start to lose their memories about them. It begins with small things like their birthday, then progressively gets worse.

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

*Flashback*

"Number 8?" Sir Reginald called out. "Yes, Sir?" Y/N said. "Your performance today was horrible. Please do extra training after dinner." He said. Y/N bit her lip, they were exhausted from the mission today, but they couldn't say no, or they'll be punished again. "Yes, Sir. I will train more after dinner." they said quietly but still hearable. Five looked at them from across the table. He kinda feel bad for them. In his opinion, they did great today. Their power of element manipulation had helped them immensely in the mission, but in Reginald's eyes, it was only a small effort. The others, especially Luther and Allison were snickering at Y/N . Y/N was eating slowly, with downcast eyes.

Oh how he wanted to kick their asses if he could.

*after dinner*

Y/N changed into their training outfit, which consists of an oversized sweatshirt and workout pants . They were breathing heavily, barely standing properly. They were trying to conjure up a ball of electricity from absorbing some the lamp nearby them. But it was a weak one, they groaned in frustration and let go of the electricity. The lamp flickered before it exploded. Fragments of glass dug into their shoulder. “Shit.” They whispered.

“Look at that, you somehow always ending up injuring yourself, Y/N .” They turned around to see Five leaning against the doorway. He was giving one of his signature smirks. “Five, here to critic me again?” They sassed. “Yeah, did you know your stance was really off?” He teased softly from behind them. Y/N rolled their eyes playfully and turned away from him. “Why are you really here, Five?” They asked. “I was worried, you did overexert yourself on the mission today. I could tell that you’re exhausted during dinner earlier. “ Five said, giving them a smile. Y/N was taken aback by his answer. “You’re actually worried about ME? “ They scoffed in disbelief. “Why shouldn’t I?” He looked at them. “I’m not great like you guys. I’m not strong as Luther, I can’t control minds like Allison, I can’t control my powers at all. At least, not good enough for Dad to approve anyways.” They said, their head hung low, shoulder slumped.

“Hey, don’t say that. What would Ben say if he heard you saying that? “ He said. Their eyes drifted towards the statue on the other side of the yard. Y/N and Klaus sometimes joked on how he doesn’t look like Ben at all. “Sometimes I blame myself for what happen to him, y’know?” Y/N said, looking at the statue with guilt. “ I could’ve saved him if I were strong enough back them.” They said, looking at their hands. “Hey, look at me.” Five said. “Don’t think like that, Y/N” He said. Five surprisingly put his arm on their shoulder. “You were amazing today, you saved our asses back there. If dear old Dad didn’t see that, then he isn’t as observant as he says.” He said. “I think you’re neat, Y/N. You don’t annoy me like the others.”

They felt their heart beating faster, as their cheeks warmed. Thank God it was night time. They didn't want Five to see then like that, or it would be endless teasing from him. "Oh, wait here. I need to grab something." Five said, then he teleported. Few seconds passed, he appeared behind them, a med kit under his shoulder, and two plates with his favourite sandwich, which is also their's too. "Would you mind taking off your sweatshirt?" He asked them. Their face flushed as they hesitated. "Don't worry, my eyes won't wonder around if that's what you’re worried about." He said." It's not that." They said. "Then what is it? " Five asked. "My scars, the ones from previous missions. They're disgusting." They answered. Five looked at them, frowning. "No, they're not." He said. "It's natural to have scars, everyone's not all perfect. Besides, scars shows that we strong, that we made out of that situation alive." He said, looking at them. Y/N looked back at him hesitantly. "Y/N. You're wonderful , okay? " He said, sincerely. They nodded shyly. Five looked up at the sky. "That's the Big Dipper, isn't it? " Five said. "It is." Y/N said. Their eyes shone with wonder. That's the time Y/N knew that they loved him.

*flashback ends*

That was 17 years ago, during that time, Five was gone. Y/N was devastated. They spent most of their life, desperately trying to find him. Reginald became even more ruthless ever since Five's disappearence. Making the children train more until the brink of exhaustion. Some couldn't handle it, and so they left. But Y/N didn't. They stayed, they locked themselves in their room. Grace tried to coax them to get out of their room, it worked but it didn't last long. Grace ended up placing their food outside their bedroom door. Pogo visits them sometimes, Y/N would let him in.

*Flashback*

"Hey, Pogo?" Y/N said, as they laid down on the bed. "Yes, Y/N?" He said. "Do you ever think Five will come back?" They asked. "I have no idea, Y/N. Maybe he will or maybe he won't. Is the headaches getting worse? Should I call Grace? " He asked. "The headaches are okay, but the problem is that my memories of Five disappear when it subsides. I'm scared, Pogo." Y/N said, tearing up. Pogo stroked their (h/c) hair affectionately. "Would it be better if we see the doctor? It might help you understand the situation even more." He suggested. "Alright, I'll go. Will Sir Reginald notice?" They asked. "To be frank, Y/N, I don't think he would care." Pogo said. Y/N sighed and nodded.

That's when Y/N found out that they had the forget me not disease.

"(Mr/Ms/Mx) Hargreeves, with our sincere apology, we sadly inform you that you have been diagnosed with the forget me not disease"

"It's it lethal?"

"No it won't. But you'll lose all your memories of the significant other."

"Is there any way we could prevent that?"

"I'm sorry but there's nothing we could do." The doctor said.

Y/N covered their mouth with their hand. The sobs took over them. The doctor put a reassuring hand on their shoulder. Y/N shook it off and thank the doctor before leaving.

*flashback ends*

[subsonicspeeds]

1/2 requests for @goriee​! this is a little lion/doc piece, inspired by a line i saw in lion’s bio when reading up about him.

He bears the weight of responsibility for what he has done and pushes himself to the limits as a form of corporal punishment.

Olivier had a very set and rigid schedule each and every morning. It was something he forced himself to do, and tended to keep it pretty lowkey. The beginning started pretty normal: get up at five in the morning, take a shower, brush his teeth, hair, etc. At around six, he'd head outside and begin exercising. Not quite out of the ordinary, until he continued until the point of collapse. It was a regular that he'd almost pass out before he considered his workout “complete.” If he didn't push himself this far, what was the point?

After all, it was what he deserved. It kept himself reminded of his sins, of the wrong doings he had done in his past. And that he wasn't going to let them weigh him down.

Olivier had trudged into base, completely drenched in sweat and out of breath. His body burned, and there was a stinging in his sinuses every time he breathed. It was the norm. The world was spinning, but he was used to navigating back to his room at this point. Just using his hand to brush against the brick wall as support, he walked back to his room. At least that was the plan, until he bumped into a smaller figure in his mindless trek.

They both grunted, and he leaned against the wall entirely. Looking down, he had realized who it was: his stubborn lover, Gustave. As tired as he was, Olivier still flashed a cocky smile at him. “Oh, hey babe. Didn't notice you down there.” Running his hand through his blonde hair, he tried to act suave, which always seemed to frustrate Gustave for whatever reason.

The one in mention glared up at him, before sighing and loosening up. “You smell and look terrible. Did you just run a couple miles?” Of course he mentioned his current state, the other was too observant… and cared more than he'd ever admit.

“Eh, a lot more than that. Nothing my body can't handle.” Olivier’s head was really spinning by now, given that he'd normally be in bed and recuperating before taking his second shower of the day. He knew what he could handle, he pushed that to its very limits, and this was starting to get outside of them. “Anyways I need to get going, the shower is calling my n-” He was cut off by Gustave taking his wrist and yanking him in the opposite direction.

“Nonsense. You look awful for something that ‘your body can handle.’” Groaning, Olivier stumbled and followed him into his office. This wasn't part of his routine, and it was really throwing him off. But he was used to Gustave’s surprise checkups. It was just his way of guaranteeing the two were alone, and to make sure nothing was ailing Olivier.

“You know I'm fine.” He grumbled and protested as he made his way to the examination table, sitting on the side of it. “Just give me time to rest up.” But his cries fell upon deaf ears as Gustave put on a new set of gloves and walked over, tools in his metal cart next to him.

“Better safe than sorry now.” Putting his hand on Olivier’s chin, he forcibly turned his head to look at each side of his face. “What were you doing exactly? I don’t recall ever seeing you this tired.” Gustave didn’t really need the tools and such, it was more so just habit to have them by his side now. All Olivier could do was shrug. It was normal.

“Nothing new. Pushing myself as I told myself I would.” The disappointment on Gustave’s face was painfully clear. They had this discussion once or twice before, but he always undermined the intensity of his exercises. It seemed his partner finally put the pieces together. Putting his hand on Olivier’s shoulder, Gustave looked right into his eyes, looking like he was about to scold him to Hell and back. But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled Olivier into a hug. He was silent for awhile, keeping his face buried into the other’s sweaty neck. “So much for hating how I smelled.” Murmuring in return, he rubbed Gustave’s back, but was greeted with a gentle shove in his side.

“Overexerting yourself is the same as not taking care of yourself.” It wasn’t professional for him to be giving him advice like this, but what was the point? It was hard to get Olivier to listen when he was being all stuck up and serious.

“You know how I am, Gustave.” He was speaking more softly compared to normal, and ended up pulling the smaller onto his lap. “I’ve got to keep myself disciplined.” Gustave looked annoyed with his new seat, but didn’t bother moving. And definitely more annoyed with the response.

“Not to the point of exhaustion.” Olivier was just kissing all over his neck and cheeks, and Gustave tried to get him to stop by pulling back to make him focus entirely for a few seconds. “I can help you work on your discipline in a better way. Just agree with me, and I promise you’ll feel more fulfilled.”

He stopped his affection for a moment, considering the offer Gustave had. It seemed to be stressing out his partner, the thought of him pushing himself this much. Olivier wasn’t fully convinced, not even close, but the thought of making the other worry more than he already did was enough to get him to at least comply for now. “We’ll see what method works better, how about that?”

Sighing, Gustave had to settle with that answer. “Alright. But if I catch you like this again there will be hell to pay.” With that, Olivier chuckled.

“So be it. Now I need to shower, or did you fall in love with the smell of sweat again?”

[lilith-lovett]

Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter Nine

A new chapter has arrived, initially I was dreading writing this chapter but I actually got it done in only a few hours and it is a pleasant mix of overbearing fluff and painful angst which seems to be my specialty. I am going to apologise in advance because it gets worse before I gets better but it will get better for Logan, I love him to much not to give him at least some happiness. Just need to get through a truck load of angst first. So hope you enjoy and I really live reading all of your nice comments so thank you.

Masterlist 

Summary: Logan has another encounter with Madame Claire and Patton has a very important conversation with his children.

Word Count: 4952

Warnings: Child abuse, past child abuse mentioned, anxiety, self-deprecation, disordered eating, food mention, blood mention, physical description of injuries, bruises, knife mention, vomiting mention, panic attack mention, self esteem issues, therapy mention, death mention. (This is a dark one so please be careful when reading and if there is anything I have missed please let me know)

Logan lead Patton down the hallway, winding through corridors, paying no mind to the children who stood by and gawked. Sharing disbelieving whispers between each other as they passed them. Patton ignored them also, far to excited by the prospect of meeting Logan’s teacher who they discussed regularly, Logan speaking very highly of her. He was glad Logan wasn’t entirely alone in his place, happy he had someone to confide in and support him when he himself couldn’t. Encouraging Logan to open his heart and allow the real Logan who had been hidden away for so long to make an appearance. Patton was eternally grateful to her for not believing in the lies spread about him by the other matrons, for supporting his intelligence and not squandering his wild spirit.

They eventually stopped in front of a door. Logan knocked, three times, three repetitive raps of his knuckles and the door swung open to reveal a young woman. Not much younger than Patton himself, dressed modestly in a brightly coloured, blue and yellow chequered patterned dress which fell to above her knees, a silver chain settling daintily on her chest. Raven locks scraped back, styled into an up-do secured with bejewelled hair pins. The corners of her mouth stretching upwards into a grin, emitting an friendly and welcoming aura as she welcomed the pair into her equally as welcoming office.

“So this is the man I have heard so much about?” She said closing the door behind her. Patton’s stomach fluttered. Logan had talked about him.

“All good things I hope,” Patton joked releasing a little chuckle as Logan’s teacher did the same. That was a good sign.

“Of course, I am Maggie Blair. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” Maggie said extending a hand out toward Patton who took it graciously.

“You too. My names Patton Hart and I assure you I have heard nothing but good things about you from Logan also,” Patton responded flashing a smile in Logan’s direction who quickly averted his gaze, a rosy flush visible on his cheeks.

“I’m pleased he thinks so highly of me,” Maggie said leaning back casually against her desk. “Now, there is much I would like to discuss with you. Logan could I have a moment to speak in private with Mr Hart?”.

Logan after a brief moment of thought and a final glance between the pair, nodded before turning and exiting, closing the door with a soft click behind him. Maggie gestured Patton to sit and he collapsed into a pile of pillows which decorated the well-worn armchair in the corner of Maggie’s office. While she perched on her desk, feet barely scraping the floor beneath her. Her former light-hearted expression had shifted, being replaced by a much more serious one but it hadn’t lost any of its former warmth. And Patton knew immediately what it was she wished to discuss with him. Logan.  

“He has been so much happier since meeting you,” Maggie said with a smile, glancing towards the closed door where Logan was presumably waiting.

“I’m glad, he deserves some happiness after everything he has been through,” Patton replied he could feel the tears building up behind his eyes. No child deserved to go through what Logan had and Patton was determined to give him the childhood he never received, no matter the trials and tribulations it took to get there.

“I suppose you have heard about his past then?” She asked her tone dropping as she broached the serious subject.

“Yes, one of the matrons told me a little of it,” Patton said remembering what Mrs Davis had told him and what he had researched on his own, as the case had been almost entirely televised because of the high-standing of the accused, but he refused to press any further until Logan was ready to tell him in his own time.

“Then you know life hasn’t been easy for him, I want nothing more than for Logan to be taken away from this place and brought into a loving home but I cannot do it myself as much as I would like to,” Maggie admitted scrubbing a hand underneath her eyes, wiping away tears which had escaped from her eyes rolling down her cheeks. “Please take my number, call me if you want some real information about Logan or if you want to check up on him. You’re a good one Mr Hart, Logan deserves someone like you,”.

“He deserves far more than I can give,” Patton replied drawing his phone out of his pocket to receive Maggie’s phone number, giving her his in return. “ And please call me Patton,”.

“Thank you for not giving up on him, Patton,” Maggie responded stretching out her hand once again and again Patton took it, smiling warmly as she dried her eyes and allowed Logan to return. His gaze shifted between to pair, surely attempting to deduce the nature of their conversation but she merely smiled at him which received a ghost of a smile in return. “Now Logan, once you say goodbye to Patton you come right back and tell me all about your day out,”.

Logan nodded in response once again leading Patton through the winding corridors, now free of children, presumably having found something much more interesting to occupy their time, before returning to the foyer. Patton exchanged pleasantries with Mrs Davis at the front desk, assuring her he would be making another appointment to see Logan very soon but he had an important conversation to be having with his own children first. As Logan stood-by, clearly raking his brain for the correct words to say.

“Thank you Patton, for allowing me to accompany you on your outing. I am truly grateful for the experience,” Logan said. Seriously could he get any cuter? Patton internally squealed.

“Aw you’re welcome kiddo, now I promise I will see you real soon,” Patton replied once again reiterating his promise before forcing himself to turn and leave, waving to Logan from behind the panel of glass until he disappeared from view.

The moment Patton turned the corner and vanished from Logan’s visual range, he ran immediately back to Maggie’s office, to relay to her every individual detail of his day out with Patton; showing her his own copy of The Murder of Rodger Ackroyd, re-telling every one of his awful puns, illustrating the astounding beauty of the Planetarium, of each twinkling stars as it travelled across the projected sky, entire galaxies awash with colour, a simple explanation could never do it justice. He told her of their conversations, dissecting every one of their interactions throughout the course of the day; from Patton’s insistent compliments, him listening intently to Logan’s passion-induced rambling about space, the fragile bond of trust established along the way.

Logan talked and talked and talked. He talked until his cheeks hurt from overexertion and his words came out in breathy pants and his stomach growled ferociously, snapping him out of his hyper-fixation. He internally winced at his own lack of self-control. He should know better by now to keep his damn mouth shut. No one wanted to hear him babble on about his feelings. Why couldn’t he just be normal? He bowed his head in preparation of the inevitable punishment or groan in frustration, followed by the reiteration that nobody wanted to listen to him ramble on but it never came. Logan risked a glance upwards to witness, not the agitated expression he expect but Maggie, a smile with a brightness comparable to that of the sun on a hot summer’s day stretched across his lips, deep creases forming in her corner of her eyes and the sheen of unshed tears present in her mossy green eyes.

“Wow, it certainly sounds like you enjoyed yourself,” Maggie said extending her hand to ruffle Logan’s hair, he shifted out of her range, shooting her a half-hearted scowl which she responded to with a chuckle.

Logan released a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding at her positive reaction. Feeling the weight lift from his chest and the tightness within his throat subsided as words began to build up once again, waiting with anxious anticipation for permission to be expelled and a nod from Maggie gave him that permission.

                                                         ***

“Now Logan, as much as I would love to keep talking to you. I think you have dinner to be getting to,” Maggie said halting Logan in his re-telling of all of the new titles he had discovered at the book-store. Had it really been so long? Logan glanced towards the small window located at the back of Maggie’s office, noticing the single stream of sunlight filtering through the curtain and the settling sun as it began to disappear into the horizon.

After Logan said goodbye to Maggie, he made his way to the dining hall where the majority of the other children had already gathered, tucking into their own merger meals, not sparing a single glance towards Logan as he searched for an isolated table. Locating one in a back corner, tucking into his own plate of food, chicken and vegetables in order to quell the hunger which had been building over the past hour. Cutting and organising it until it was acceptable to eat, flipping through the first few pages of his brand new book but instead of focusing on the story he allowed his mind to wander. Reflecting on the day spent with Patton, it had been perfect. Logan couldn’t think of a better word to describe it.

Logan continued to reminisce until only he remained - under watchful gaze - in the dining hall. He had paused in his consumption a quarter of the way through his daydreaming session, momentarily forgetting his meal but it had grown cold and he discarded the rest. He prepared to retire to his room, hoping it would be long before Brandon and his posy returned from the common room. Granting him peace and quiet to read his new book.

But fate was rarely ever kind to Logan and not long after leaving the dining hall encountered Madame Eliza, a murderous glint present in her eyes and a sinister smile stretched across her lips as she caught sight of her victim. Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he raked his brain for an excuse, in effort to escape but was seconds to late when she seized his wrist, her grip tight enough to bruise and dragged him along behind her, without another word.

The silence was deafening.

She deposited him in her office, slamming the door behind her, the room shuddering with the force of it, the lock sounding with an stomach-churning click provoking him to flinch. Logan kept his trembling hands hidden by behind him back, attempting to conceal the paralysing fear mounting within his chest, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip in order to maintain his appearance of composure. The metallic taste of his blood filling his mouth. But he knew his efforts were all for naught. Madame Claire saw right through his weak façade, a devilish grin stretching slow across her lips, taking pleasure in Logan’s distress even emitting a curt bark of laughter at the sight of him. Routed in place. Unable to move. To shout out. To defend himself as approached painstakingly slow. Dragging out each step, the heel of her shoe scraping against the wooden flooring, seemingly growing in size as she moved like a predator across her office until she was within touching distance of Logan.

“Now dear Logan, do you know why I brought you here?” Madame Claire asked clamping a hand down on Logan’s thin shoulder, wincing in pain as she dug her thumb into his collar bone. Her touch, though cold, seared through his thin shirt blistering his skin. Sending chills throughout his entire body but he did not struggle, knowing well the immense pain she would inflict if he did.

“No Madame,” Logan whispered, his quivering voice barely audible, coming out in raspy pants as if a giant pair of hands had forcefully torn open his chest, seized hold of his lungs and were painfully squeezing the air from them.

“What was that!” She exploded. She dug her fingers into Logan’s hair and yanked, jerking his face towards her, flaming red with rage. Logan yelped at the sudden pain, fear completely taking over as the tears he fought so desperately against flowed down his cheeks, only intensifying Madame Claire’s amusement.

“No, Madame,” He choked out, louder this time before she eventually released him with a sharp shove, sending him scrambling for the nearest surface to steady himself, his legs far to weak to support themselves.

“Pathetic boy, you know what you did. Has your time spent with Mr Hart blinded you? Your disrespect shall not go unpunished” Madame Claire growled seizing a hold of his wrist and shoulder once again, pressing his body into the desk, the sharp edge slicing into his lower back. “Though I will admit, it has been amusing watching you pine over Mr Hart. Still holding out hope that someone will want you?”.

Logan’s brow furrowed. What was she talking about? Patton liked him? Didn’t he? He had mentioned - on returning to the Orphanage - having had met with Madame Claire. What had they discussed? What had she told him? Had she turned him against the prospect of continuing to meet with him? Did Patton hate him and only indulged him on their excursion out of politeness? Logan had expected this from the beginning but the confirmation weighted heavily on this shoulders and the salty tears which had only just stopped seemed to build up again. Patton’s frequent visits had become an integral part of his week. Could he simply return to the crushing loneliness he lived in before?    

“What,” Logan whispered as Madame Claire’s smile grew.

“Oh you poor, stupid boy. You didn’t know. Mr Hart doesn’t care for you, he doesn’t love you. He only visits you out of pity which is certainly more than you deserve. No one could ever love you and don’t go forgetting that now,” She said a sickly sweet smile stretching across her painted red lips, a smile which could fool even the most suspicious of people but Logan knew what that smile meant. “Do I make myself clear?”.

“Yes, Madame,” He answered the response falling automatically from his lips as he lowered his head in defeat, preparing himself to face the punishment. After all he deserved it.

“Good, now where were we. As yes I remember, you need to be taught a lesson boy,” She jeered tightening her grip on him until he audibly winced, pain shooting throughout his entire body but he knew this wouldn’t be the end. It never was. But he never fought back, never told anyone. His last remainders of hope of the pain ever ending slowly dwindling into the great, black nothingness.

                                                          ***

Logan’s punishment had lasted far longer than previous and once he was finally released he painfully limped his way to the bathroom, where he promptly lost his breakfast, lunch and dinner to the toilet. Despite his desires to simply curl up on the cool bathroom floor, he compelled himself up and into the dormitory where the rest of the boys had already retired to their beds. Collapsing into bed came as a bitter-sweet relief. On one hand it gave his legs a well deserved break from standing for hours on end and the warmth provided by his blankets proved comforting but yet there was no possible position to could sleep adequately in without aggravating his newly administered injuries. Covering not only the back of his thighs but a splattering of bruises climbing up his back, deep purple rings around both wrists stretching along his forearms and biceps, a severe clicking of his right shoulder joint sending excruciating pain shooting through arm with every sharp movement and the most traumatic the miniature nicks of a pocket knife staining his shirt red.

After twenty minutes or so of struggling to find a comfortable position. Logan gave up. Curling in on himself despite the agonising pain this caused and silently sobbed into his pillow. Begging, praying for an escape for someone, somewhere to come and safe him. To take away his pain, to hold him tight and tell him everything would be alright. But things rarely ever worked out for Logan.

 From Pattoncake

To Emmy-gem - I plan to tell the kiddos about Logan tonight. Wish me luck <3 <3 <3

From Emmy-gem

To Pattoncake - Good luck Patty. Tell me how it goes. <3 <3 <3 <3

From Pattoncake

To Emmy-gem - Will do. See you later <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 (I will not be outdone :) )

Patton set his phone down on the counter, inhaling once before exhaling. This was it. He was finally going to tell them about Logan. He had written a script and everything, planning out everything he was going to say, to prevent either Roman or Virgil from panicking. Roman didn’t take the news of adopting Virgil and Dee particularly well and ended up locking himself in this room for a full three hours before Patton managed to coax him out with the promise of a movie night, of all of his personal favourites but it didn’t prevent him from despising his new brothers the moment they officially met, especially Virgil.

Their arguing was constant. Clashing personalities resulting in pointless arguments, bickering and cruel nicknames. Patton was already on edge from progressing from one child to three and his sons non-stop squabbling certainly wasn’t helping, but over time their relationship improved. Connected in their shared passion for the arts and their love of Disney which prompted several intense yet not anger-fuelled debates every movie night. Discovering they weren’t so different after all. Developing from sworn enemies to fast friends but it wasn’t until Roman witnessed one of Virgil’s more severe panic attacks he fully accepted him as his little brother and swore a unbreakable oath to protect him. Though they are now more tolerant of each other because of them nicknames have become a staple within the Hart household. Some of Patton’s personal favourites are: Princey, Sir-Sings-a-lot, Hot Topic, JD-Lightful and my chemically imbalanced romance just to name a few.

It wasn’t only Roman’s reaction Patton was worried about. Virgil’s mental health, though improving, was incredibly unpredictable and had been the cause of many sleepless nights for them both, especially in the beginning. Despite Virgil having been officially his son for almost three years, he still had his days when his anxiety took over, filling his head with ugly, nasty thoughts. Those days when he begged Patton to send him away, screaming he was bad luck and would only cause hurt in the end. Those days were the worst. He couldn’t take away the years of torture he faced or the evil thoughts which infiltrated his mind. All he could do was hold his son close as he cried, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, telling him again and again how much he loved him until the thoughts eventually quietened and he fell into a deep and hopefully dreamless slumber. Though now, attacks like that were uncommon but not unheard of. How would Virgil react to Patton’s news? He had been making a lot of progress with his new therapy plan and Patton didn’t want to ruin all of his hard work but he couldn’t put off the conversation any longer.

Patton paced the length of the living room, waiting in anxious anticipation for Roman and Virgil’s return from school. Paper in hand, where he had carefully written everything he wanted to say. He recited the speech over and over again to Dee, who sat swaddled in blankets playing with his stuffed toy snake, blissfully unaware of Patton’s inner turmoil. Patton felt like he was back in high school, the night before a big presentation, practising his delivery over and over again to his stuffed animals, trying to commit it to memory.

After ten minutes or so Patton eventually gave up, stuffing the speech into his pocket and collapsing onto couch allowing Dee to clamber into his lap, burrowing his face into Patton’s chest. Patton smiled at the sight, pressing a chaste kiss into Dee’s unruly mop of dark curls.

“What should I do Dee Dee?” Patton asked the toddler. He didn’t expect an answer, so he wasn’t surprised when Dee merely stared at him be until his face split into a toothy grin and pressed a wet kiss to Patton’s nose causing Patton to giggle at the affection.

“An excellent idea Dee. I will attack them with kisses,”Patton exclaimed pressing kisses to Dee’s chubby cheeks as he squirmed and squealed in delight.

The pit of anxiety which had been building in his stomach since arriving home had eventually began to dissipate, as the impending conversation fell deep into his subconscious in favour of watching cartoons with Dee. Until the bus arrived and the nervousness returned but he swallowed it down smiling warmly at his children as they walked in, bickering as per usual. This was it. He was going to do it.

“Hey kiddos, how was your day?” Patton asked as he usually did.

“Perfect as per usual my dear padre,” Roman exclaimed striking yet another dramatic pose as he discarded his bag and threw himself rather theatrically onto the couch, Virgil following suit, curling into his corner on Patton’s left.

“Surprisingly okay actually,” Virgil admitted with a shy smile, allowing Dee to crawl from Patton’s lap into his own.

“Virgil, did you actually say something positive about school. Aw kiddo, I’m so proud of you!” Patton squealed wrapping Virgil into a bone-crushing hug despite his half-hearted groans and squirms in protest.

“Yeah, yeah get off,” Virgil muttered finally freeing himself of Patton’s grip. “Don’t get used to it, I have an image to maintain,”.

“Don’t worry Virgil, you’ll always be my emo nightmare,” Roman said crawling across Patton’s lap toward Virgil who promptly kicked him in the face. “Hey ouch!”.

“You deserved it Princey,” Virgil quipped sticking his tongue out at Roman who returned the gesture as Patton giggled at the interaction.

Patton truly loved his famILY. But if he wanted to introduce a new member, he needed the approval of his children. The conversation was unavoidable now.

“Hey kiddos, can I talk to you about something kind of serious?” Patton asked his previously light-hearted, jokey tone disappearing from his voice which didn’t go unnoticed by Roman and Virgil evident from the changes in their expressions. Roman sat up straight, cheeky grin falling from his lips and Virgil curled in on himself, pulling his hoodie tighter around his thin frame and a visible tremble in his figure tips.

“Is someone dying?” Roman blurted out.

“What no…” Patton began.

“Are you dying?” Virgil interrupted his voice shaky and his expression laced with fear.

“No, no, no one is dying,” Patton reiterated watching the relief pour into his sons faces. “But, there is something I want to talk to you both about,”.

“What is it?” Roman questioned leaning forward in anticipation, while Virgil shrunk back hugging Dee closer to his chest.

“I am planning on adopting another child,” Patton said quickly, breathing a sigh of relief as he did. “But I wanted to tell you both before anything was finalised,”.

Patton sat back, attempting to gauge their reactions as both were silent. Roman uncharacteristically so. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few minute before anyone said anything.

“Are you…are y-you replacing us?” Virgil stuttered his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“No, no, of course not. Nobody is being replaced,” Patton exclaimed hoping to expel Virgil’s spiralling thoughts before they triggered a panic attack. “No one could ever replace you, my dark strange son…and my darling Prince,”.

Roman jolted at the mention of his nickname, he had previously been staring into his lap, refusing to meet Patton’s gaze as Virgil spoke the question he presumably was also thinking. Patton took Roman’s fidgeting hands into his own, rubbing comforting circles into his palms and forcing Roman’s eyes on him.

“Roman told me something similar the day I told him about you and Dee,” Patton said with a warm smile. After Patton managed to coax Roman from his room, all those years ago, he admitted his outburst was because of his fear of being replaced but he quickly dispelled those fears and Roman begrudgingly agreed to meet with Virgil and Dee (which didn’t go entirely well). “But I promise you no one is being replaced,”.

“Then why? Aren’t we enough?” Roman pleaded becoming visible frustrated. This situation had been what Patton had feared, broaching this topic, knowing both Roman and Virgil’s history with trust and self esteem issues.

“Of course you are but there are so many children stuck in care homes and orphanages. I have a chance to make a real difference in this child’s life, granting them a life and a future they never would have had otherwise,” Patton explained knowing they would understand both having lived in and gone through years in the system themselves. “And I think you’ll both really like who I’ve met,”.

Silence enveloped the room once again. Virgil had shifted out of the corner, his shoulder nuzzled against Roman’s - an action Patton would have squealed at in better circumstances - and Dee remained in his lap, blissfully unaware of the situation. While Roman sat slumped over, hands still firmly clasped within Patton’s, both deep in thought.

“Alright fine. Tell me more about this kid, they must be really cool to get you this happy,” Virgil said eventually with a sigh.

That Patton could do.

Patton talked on and on about Logan. About his extreme love of space, his obsession with detective novels, his adorable bouts of excitement at the mention of one of the subjects he was passionate about. He relayed in detail their interactions, every conversation, every debate about anything and everything. But not mentioning anything regarding Logan’s upbringing or past without his consent.

“He also told me today that he would be willing to meet you, if you would like to?” Patton asked hoping and praying for the answer to be yes, bringing him one step closer to Logan officially becoming a part of the family but completely prepared to give them more time.

“I’m down, he sounds kinda cool,” Virgil admitted with a nonchalant shrug and then all attention was turned onto Roman.

“Ugh fine, if it will please you I shall do my princely duty and meet with him also,” Roman said after a prolonged silence, striking another of his royal poses, swiftly returning to his energetic self. “But he sounds like a total nerd,”.

“Yay, I’m so happy!” Patton exclaimed dragging all three of his children into a crushing bear hug, two much more willingly than the other. “Thank you for giving me the most wonderful children in the world!”.

“Okay, okay. Get off!” Virgil groaned finally escaping from the confines of Patton’s but a small smile was visible on his face.

“Aw come on Charlie Frown, you love us really,” Roman teased still firmly wrapped in Patton’s arms.

“In your dreams Princey,” Virgil quipped. Provoking their light-hearted bickering with some new creative nicknames thrown in.

But Patton didn’t care. Everything was finally falling into place. His little family may soon be introducing a new member and though they weren’t the most conventional of families, to Patton it was perfect.

To Patton his famILY was perfect.

Notes: I tried really hard to find good nicknames for Patton and Emile, Patton’s was easy but Emile’s ended up being a lot harder so I ended up choosing something related to Steven Universe (which I haven’t actually seen beyond a few episodes please forgive me) so if anyone has any better ones I would be grateful. Now why does Roman (a twelve year old) know about Heathers? My answer is I really like the JD-lightful nickname so I am using it. Lastly I really like some of the dialogue in this chapter especially between Patton and Maggie, so I am actually kind of proud of this one.

Tag list: @i-do-not-dislike-fudge @poems-art-darkness-n-more @alex-cain @amber1594 @darkrainbow333 @falseh0od @lovingcreatorstrawberry @mason-does-a-thing @callboxkat @tacohippy56900 @anxiousangel121 @comicsimpson @harrypotternerdprincess @cobythinks @whatschooldoesntteachyou @fandomkitty8

 Please if you would like to be added to the tag list or have a question about the series please do not hesitate to ask.  

[grifffinclarke]

jules did conageddon 2: a recap (pt. 1)

OKAY. SO. i am aware that i’m a week late, but it turns out that weekend-long cons in another country take quadruple the amount of energy as going for a single day in a nearby city, and the recovery process has been a nightmare for my lil chronically ill heart.

STILL WORTH IT THOUGH.

anyway. prepare for a bunch of emotional rambling, because i still can’t find the right words to explain just how much i love this guy right here. every single interaction i had with him, even the smallest of moments, just proved to me even more that bob morley is a literal angel and we do not deserve him.

i arrived in boston on thursday, a day before the first con activities (will call/VIP party) would start. i spent a decent amount of time in the lobby, meeting new people, making friends. the cast arrived that day as well and would pass through occasionally. nobody really approached them because we wanted to give them space, it was really chill and respectful and cool.

THEN. tom (one of the con organizers) came in with bob and richard, started chatting with my mom while i was with my friends and was like “WHERE IS SHE!!!” and suddenly i was being pulled over to the group. he wanted to tell bob all about how he helped make sure i was able to get his VIP package. i was dying of embarrassment at this point and was internally like i am so sorry i don’t want to bother you i will leave ASAP but bob just gave me the biggest smile, thanked me and pulled me in for a hug and started talking to me about rooster teeth because i was literally in my RT pride shirt and sWEATPANTS BECAUSE I DIDN’T THINK I’D BE SEEING ANY OF THEM THAT DAY.

AND THIS WAS JUST THURSDAY. THE CON HADN’T EVEN STARTED YET.

on friday we had the VIP party, and it was super fun and super overwhelming. first party i’ve been to since before i got sick, and i got sick at the age of 14, so...... it was A Lot. when the cast came out, bob passed me on his way to the bar, and as he did he made sure to squeeze my shoulder and say hey again. i saw him again a lil later and he pulled me into another hug and asked me what i’d been up to all day and we talked about exploring boston. i was a lil stressed and dizzy throughout the whole night but i felt so calm when i was talking to him. also, a while after that i got to witness the great bob and eliza vs richard and luisa beer pong game up close and it was amazing.

saturday morning was our VIP breakfast meet and greet, which was such an incredible experience. during the big group photo afterwards we had to fit, like, 25 people + bob into this tiny little space and it was hilariously awkward having to sit right up front and being like BUT WHAT IF I BLOCK SOMEONE (clearly i think i’m taller than i actually am) while bob was in full director mode moving me into place by my shoulders and saying “don’t worry, i’ll find the camera” with a smirk lmfsjsjhd

ANYWAY. next i saw him at the autograph table, which is the first selfie you see up there. i really wish i’d had a friend around to record this one because the look on his face when i was explaining how happy i was to be medically cleared to come on this trip at all is something i’ll never forget. he pulled me around to his side of the table to give me the tightest hug. and then he casually asked me if i want to sit on his lap for our selfie???? (naturally my immediate response was WAIT ARE YOU SURE) it was the most considerate thing ever — i was using my cane, i was third in line and had been sitting the whole time, but he still didn’t want me to have to crouch down for our photos. MY HEART LITERALLY MELTED. i didn’t think it was possible to love this man any more than i already did (i was wrong). we also noticed during the selfies that his lil ponytail sort of matched my space buns which was super adorable.

later on that day was the murphamy photo op, which i was SO excited for. i’d actually had a pose in mind but as soon as it was my turn, i noticed that bob had a cane with him and i was like “CANE BUDDY!!!!!” and he said “YEAAAAH!!!! are we cane-ing it?” (for the pose) and it ended up being even better than what i’d planned. as we were posing he started making fun of richard for being left out of the whole cane buddies thing and richard was like “i was sad that i don’t have one!” after the picture was taken. what an iconic duo.

on sunday, i literally saw bob like 5??? different times. i went to his autograph line first thing in the morning, which is the second selfie you see up there. he gushed about richard and how much he loves working with him and like,,,, i am So here for this friendship. cutest thing in the world. witnessing it in person is precious. when it was time for the selfie he was like “come sit on my lap again!” while stretching out his bad leg again. then it was a solid 30 seconds of us fussing over each other because i was like I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU and he was like I’M FINE WHEN I’M SITTING BUT YOU’RE IN PAIN SO SIT DOWN (side note: this whole weekend was literally everyone mom-friending me, from close mutuals to new friends to bob morley himself, and i love y’all so goddamn much for being so considerate and accommodating)

after that was photo ops. i had 2 photos but only one pose planned (the one on the right^) and when i showed him the pose reference he was like “you’re gonna be the little one, right?” and then laUGHED “how much littler can you get?” and then for the second one we bear-hugged which was lovely because i had full-body shakes throughout the whole weekend due to me overexerting myself and as we hugged he squeezed me even tighter after a moment and it relaxed me. i swear, the whole weekend he just Knew exactly what i was feeling and how to help without either of us saying anything and my heart is just so full.

after that, i went to his autograph line one last time to say a proper goodbye. i thanked him for how incredible the weekend was, and how intimate and fun the VIP experience was, especially because i didn’t think this trip would even be a possibility for me (to which he was like “oh shit!!! yeah” remembering what i’d said about getting medical clearance to fly) and he stood up to come give me another big hug and told me how glad he was that i made it after all. (he also remembered that we’d met before???? even though it was 2 years ago and i’d had blue hair, no cane, and was an anxious mess the entire time???) and y’all i am literally going to cRY AS I TYPE ALL OF THIS BECAUSE I TRULY ADORE THIS MAN MORE THAN ANYTHING AND I WILL ABSOLUTELY FLY MY CHRONICALLY ILL ASS OUT TO BOSTON AGAIN NEXT YEAR FOR HIM. all the pain, the extended dizzy spells, everything my body was and is still doing to punish me for being an active human for once in my life is SO WORTH IT because of him (and of course the rest of the cast).

[readerwinterbarnes]

Gentle Touch: Pt. 8

Progress

Bucky x OFC (Jules Carlson), Steve/Tony, Avengers

Summary: Bucky takes time to clear his thoughts, thinking over everything Jules has told him.

Word Count: 3,221

Warnings: Rape/NON-con, no POV, hurt Bucky, more feels

A/N: I know I’ve been absent for much longer than I had wanted, a lot has happened. I finally graduated from college! So that’s fun, I’m also in the process of figuring out how to make print copies and copyright my artwork - which I’m excited for. Work has taken up a lot of my time, gotta pay them bills and then dad had double hernia surgery and now mom has to have surgery in February. I could go on, but that’s not the point, I just want you to know that I’m trying to put myself back together and not worry about the little things that I didn’t need to worry about in the first place.

Anywho, enough of that, on towards this series! I finally remade my notes for the next few parts and there will be more angst, feels and fluff I promise! And for his friendship with Steve, don’t worry it gets better. :) Sorry if I abandoned all of you for a bit, please let me know what you think!

You can also find this on A03!  (WinterReadingerDixon67)

Bucky woke up in a heavy daze, limbs felt like lead as his whole body refused to move. His body was telling him to get up, saying he needed to go hide and get to safety. But his mind was telling him the opposite. Move, and they notice you, get noticed, and they’ll punish you. So he refused to move, not even a single muscle. Using his other senses to inform him as to where he was, what dangers laid ahead, and what he could possibly use to defend himself. Bucky didn’t get very far when he felt a hand squeeze his and a soothing voice reaching his ears.

“There are two doors, left leading out into the hallway, towards multiple exits, one into the bathroom connected to your closet. There are eight huge windows on the 50th floor, scaling is a possibility. Vents are in every room with easy access and multiple exits and hiding spots as well. It’s currently 7:15am, a nice sixty-five degrees outside, slight chance of rain and you’re on your floor in Tony Stark’s tower in New York.

“I am your conscious who was given a human physical form with the help of JARVIS, Tony, and Bruce. If there is anything that you require of me, please let me know.” Jules giggled when Bucky’s face went from happy to annoyed, to confused as he glanced over to Jules. Where he instantly relaxed, letting the tension in his shoulders die down as he breathed.

Jules quietly counted out their breathing routine a few times to settle him further. Knowing that it was a stupid thing to ask, she had to anyways. “Bucky, I know this is going to sound stupid, but I have to ask anyway so I can keep Doctor Cho and Bruce updated as well. Do you understand?” Getting a nod in confirmation she asked, “How are you feeling? Both mentally and physically? And please be honest with me.”

He looked at her with hesitant scared eyes, he knew he could trust her, but that same nagging voice told him that he can’t trust anyone but himself. “I’m...ok? Not entirely, like I’m lost, unsure...questioning.”

“How so?”

“Wondering where my best friend went. Why he feels the need to control me and wants to know everything that goes on in my life.” He curled in on himself, tucking his hands under his chin, like a child hiding themselves from the nightmares.

“Why did that happen to me, Jules? Why can’t I have my life back? Be my own person?” The room fell silent, only the sound of quiet sobbing remained. Jules looked at the man before her, strong and physically healthy; curled up like a frightened child. So lost that they believed all was lost and all love for them gone from this world. A man who had no more confidence in himself and his abilities. Her heart broke in understanding, seeing her own life flashing before her eyes, Jules wiped away his tears gently with the pad of her thumb speaking softly to him the whole time.

“Remember what we talked about, Bucky?”

“...That they no longer control me.”

“And…?”

“And that…, t-that I control my own life and make my own decisions.”

“Exactly! You are your own person and are taking charge of your life, getting the help you need, taking care of yourself and showing those fuckers that they no longer own you.” A flicker of hope flew across his eyes as she spoke, “We make our own destiny, our own paths and when life gets us down in the dumps, we pull ourselves back up. Wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because of this,” Jules placed her hand over his heart, “despite all that’s happened, you still love yourself. Slowly letting people back in, willing to get help. But also this,” she then tapped his temples before running her fingers through his hair, “you’re not giving up. You’re fighting those inner battles and winning. Yes, some days you fall down when it gets tough, but what do you do?”

“I pick myself up and keep on fighting.”

“Damn right you do. You face them head on and stare them in the face and show them why they no longer have a hold on you. That you are much stronger than them, that all their hard work was pointless because they already lost.” Bucky was full on smiling, face wet with tears of joy as he felt like he would be able to make it through another day. He knew this feeling wasn’t going to last, but he knew it didn’t mean that it would be gone forever. For this time he was even more determined to fight back even harder for what he always wanted; his life back.

Faces full of smiles and untroubled tears, Jules helped Bucky off the couch and onto his shaky legs so he could take a shower while she ordered them breakfast. For he needed to get his strength back and pay Bruce and Helen a visit to determine their next step. Then while he went on his required recreation time, she would pay Tony a visit and see where they were headed on his new arm.

                                                         -- -- -- --

Bucky was sitting on an exam table twitching nervously as Helen and Bruce discussed their observations and notes with each other on how exactly they should proceed. Jules noticed his behavior and kept an eye on him while she listened to the doctor's discussion.

“I can’t find anything wrong with him physically, although it wouldn’t hurt for him to practice a different form of activity, like; yoga, swimming, etc. Something physical that assists him with working his muscles without too much strain.

Bruce nodded in agreement, “I agree, we wouldn’t want him to overexert himself. Plus, he could do these in a calm safe environment. No stressors.”

Jules put in her two cents, “I can set up a time when he can do this. I’ll discuss it with him after.”

The doctors nodded, “Good, how’s he doing concerning touch?”

Jules sighed heavily, “Still a work in progress, though I fear Steve’s ‘interaction’ may have set us back some. I’m afraid I was too harsh on him.”

“Does Bucky know what you said?” She shook her head at Bruce.

“Not yet, I was going to ask him today. Though I’d prefer not to, not wanting to make him feel worse, but that’s not my decision to make. I’ll leave that up to him to decide.”

“Sounds good to me, all I suggest for now is make sure he has his recreation and physical time every day. Not to mention to keep eating three meals a day, even if it’s multiple small meals a day, we can’t have him neglect his health. I won’t even tell you what to do, you’re doing just fine.”

Jules patted Helen on her shoulder, nodding at Bruce, “I’ll go inform him of what we discussed and we’ll get out of your hair.”

Bucky pretended to fiddle with the plastic straw in his cup to make it look like he wasn’t listening, however, Jules seemed to know he was anyway. “I know I don’t need to tell you what we discussed considering you already know.”

He shrugged innocently, “Oops?”

“Uh huh,” she stared at him through squinted eyes, “alright come on you, let’s go the room that’ll be yours to use. You can choose the reserved time, it’ll be the same for every day; to help you get into a routine.” They went up a few floors until they stopped a floor under Tony’s. Jules stepped out of the elevator, while Bucky stood frozen in place.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asked nervously, feeling as if he was trespassing onto private property, that Tony would be furious of him invading his space.

“To be on this floor?” He nods, “I made sure to discuss this with Tony first Bucky, he’s actually the one who recommended that you use this floor for your own use. Hence the reason to schedule a time when you use this space, so he knows when not to disturb you.” When Bucky tried to dismiss the whole thing, she placed her hands on his shaking ones.

“Bucky look at me,” when he did she continued, “he cares for your well-being and knows that this will help you out tremendously. In fact, he said it helped him out quite a lot too.”

“S-so, it’s...it’s okay for me t-to use everything here?” Jules' heart constricted on how he was still so unsure to accept things only to have them biting him back later.

“It is absolutely okay for you to use anything in here, Bucky. In fact, I highly encourage you to. Not only would it give you more free time to yourself, but it would help keep you healthy.”

After taking a good look around the place, He decided that it wasn’t a terrible place, but in fact, safe, inviting and comfortable. The floor had a  huge swimming pool, a hot tub connected to the side, sauna room, and a yoga corner looking out large bay windows towards the city skyline.

“Okay, I’ll...I’ll give it a go.” Jules clapped her hands in excitement.

“Great! We’ll just have you tell JARVIS what time you want and this place will be yours during that time every day.” For the first time in a while - besides this morning - Bucky had a genuine contented smile on his face. Which in turn made Jules smile along with him.

                                                        -- -- -- --

                                                       Tony’s Lab

Jules glanced at the schematics hovering on the floating screens, trying to understand what she was looking at exactly.

“Okay, so...I know I’m looking at a new arm plan for Bucky, but what am I really looking at.”

Like a boy at Christmas, Tony gestured towards the screens.

“Alright, so not only did the arm get the whole ‘Tony Stark Upgrade’, I made it so it’s more lightweight. So it won’t feel like a shit ton of bricks weighing him down when he walks, fights, and all that. Also, under this plate is a panic button of sorts. If he’s in trouble, needs backup, or simply a lift home, all he needs to do is just tap the plate twice and it sends us a signal. Now, if he wants to activate the tracking feature, he only needs to tap the plate once.

“Oh-oh-oh! That’s not even the cool part! I built in low emp devices in his arm as well, so if he ever needed a quick getaway, he just takes out one of these babies tosses it at said target and boom. Their technology is fried. There’s also a few explosives and shocker ones as well. Everything is lightweight and silent so it doesn’t jostle when he runs.” The genius’ eyes shown with absolute pride and excitement at his creation, Jules was, to say the least; surprised.

“Wow...I, I don’t know what to say, Tony. This is...this is so amazing. I mean, just wow…” She took in the rest of the schematics, taking in all the detail. Amazing as it was, there was still one thing she was concerned about.

“How...how will we connect this to his body? I mean, what’s the process?” This time, however, Tony frowned slightly. His eyebrows scrunched together with trepidation.

“All skills set aside, there are plenty of ways it could go wrong. We’re reattaching a limb to his body, everything has to fit perfectly or his nerves could be severely damaged or worse, it could cause his body to go into shock. I’m not saying I’m not confident in my skills or Bruce’s, hell not even Helen’s, but when we do this, we’ll need the whole day to do this. One tiny distraction could screw everything up.”

Jules never quite understood the risks, but she was glad she asked. But she wasn’t worried, for she strongly believed in their abilities and trusted him to make the best calls.

“Understandable, so when can we tell him?”

“He could come in tomorrow so I can run one last body scan, check all our calculations, then talk about when the best time would be to attach it.”

“Ah, I’m so excited!” Jules burst out excitedly. “Sorry, I’m just really happy for him.”

“Hey no problem Doc, he deserves it.”

“That he does Tony, that he does.”

                                                   -- -- -- --

                                                Jules Office

Bucky sat in Jules’ office nibbling on a carrot as he waited for Jules to join him. Nat had made him a bowl full of veggies to snack on and he valued his life so he didn’t refuse her. Jules informed him she was running a little late and that he could head on in. It gave him time to really take in her office, there were picture frames on every shelf and a few on her desk. Each had her laughing or hugging another friend; most of them had the same girl in them. They must be close if she’s in basically all of them.

“Her name is Kathy, she’s my best friend. I actually introduced her to her now husband, Hank, they’re expecting their first baby.” Bucky whirled around to see Jules standing in the doorway holding a mug of tea and a bowl of fruit - no doubt Natasha made it for her.

“How’d the two of you meet?” The smile on Jules face dimed slightly, setting down her things she stood beside him looking at the picture of her and Kathy.

“This was taken four years later after she cut off all ties with me…”

“What happened? If-if you don’t mind me asking.” He didn’t mean to pry, but curiosity got the best of him.

“I don’t mind,” she smiled at him kindly, turning back to look at the picture. “The life of a corner girl happened,” she crossed her arms in a way to protect herself, “she got mixed in with the wrong guy, fell in too deep which ended up with her almost losing her life. I-I called the cops, tried to get her help, but she just thought I betrayed her so I could have Mr. Richie Rich to myself. Wouldn’t let me visit her in the hospital, left town the day she was released and I never heard or saw her again.

“That was until I opened the door to see her standing on my doorstep four years later, looking happy, healthy, and a ring on her finger.” Jules laughed wetly.

“We went out for coffee and I found out that it took her a year to actually get the right help. A year later, she landed a great job as a secretary, met a wonderful guy, two years later they got engaged and the year after that I was walking down the aisle as her Maid-Of-Honor.” She gestured towards the photo of her smiling at the camera along with the newly wedded couple.

“It’s actually kinda funny, well not really funny, but amazing. She’s a counselor at a high school and is a very dedicated volunteer at several charities to help people on the corners get the help and education they need. So they don’t have to sell themselves to earn money to eat or a place to stay, and that’s how she met Hank. He’s a professor at a local college nearby, who also volunteers at charities, ones that Kathy’s a part of. He was trying to get his sister off the street and into a program that can help her get clean from the drugs she was hooked on.

Took a while, but she’s now getting her masters in biology, is dating a nice guy, especially after Hank gave him the big brother talk. He’s helping her out and she’s looking forward to having a niece or nephew soon. Kathy’s definitely excited, hell, I’m even excited to see the little squirt.”

Bucky watched Jules as she talked about her best friend and the way her face relaxed.

“She’s lucky to have a friend like you, to help her even if she didn’t want it. Reminds me of Steve…” his face fell slightly, wondering if his friendship with Steve would ever be fixed.

“Hey,” Jules held his cheek softly, “he’ll come around eventually. Once he gets it through that his thick skull of his anyway, but give him time just like he’s doing for you.”

He sighed, hating the inevitable of what might happen, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Could I be alone for the rest of the day? Clear my head?”

She smiled softly at him, “Bucky you don’t need to ask my permission, you deserve to have time for yourself. Just don’t fall off the face of the planet, okay? Don’t want my favorite old man gone, who else am I gonna talk to?”

He playfully punched her shoulder, laughing lightly. “Don’t worry, this ol’man ain’t going anywhere. But yes I’ll let you know I’m alive before I take out my dentures.” She shoved him toward the door.

“Okay you goof, go do whatever you’re gonna do,” she did hold up her pinky though and smiled widely when he linked his with hers, “I’ll be here whenever you need me.”

“I know.”

                                                          ------

He lost track of how many laps he made around the Tony’s swimming pool, but he didn’t care because it let his body go on automatic while he sorted through his thoughts. Which was a lot, for when he eventually pulled himself out of the water, it was dark outside.

“JARVIS, what time is it?”

“It is 11:30pm Mr. Barnes.” He’s been swimming for the past six hours, but he felt lighter, mind clearer and less muddled. Deciding it was time to head back to his room, he dried himself off as JARVIS brought him back to his floor - wanting a floor separate from Steve’s - changing into the softest sweatpants and hoodie he had. Grabbing his journal, a pillow, and thick comforter and made himself comfortable on the couch.

He enjoyed the routine Jules suggested to him, it gave him something to do and a task to focus on so he wouldn’t be left alone with the thoughts that fed his nightmares. Opening his journal to a fresh page he began to write, ‘Today was a crappy day, but I’m still alive I guess. Jules tells me that I’m getting better at making my own choices and I think I believe her. I feel better, like I’m starting to get control of my life again...that, that I’m human.

She also told me about her conversation with Steve, I just...I really don’t want to lose him. He was my first friend. We fought together...never thought that this would ever happen. I hope that it won’t stay like this, I miss that punk.

I went swimming today, longer than I thought too, but it gave me a chance to think and sort through my thoughts. I felt...calm. I could feel as if the water was washing everything away, it probably sounds really corny, but I felt lighter. Maybe I am getting better, maybe Jules is right when she said that I am in control of my own mind and body.

It’s like they say, take it one step at a time.’

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[adultadhd]

My most effective coping technique for tasks I really don’t want to do, such as filling out forms, is to basically convince myself that I HAVE TO DO IT RIGHT NOW TO AVERT CATASTROPHE, along with some very negative self-talk drawn from the worst parts of my childhood. Adrenaline surges, dopamine levels rise, and, like a superhero putting on a costume, I develop the ability to do the thing.  If I was using this, like, once a year in a genuine emergency, fine.  But I find myself leaning on it a few times a week, to the detriment of my mental health.  Any tips on how to get shit done in a better way?  I mean, it’s tough to address a harmful coping mechanism without developing some sort of replacement.

- fittingoutjane

This is a submission, I can’t see who from now I’m editing it (added your username, thanks for messaging me!) but it’s asking a question, so here are my thoughts - 

Finding balance with ADHD is really, really difficult. I’ve beaten myself up trying to get stuff done and overall, the time you take recovering from overexerting yourself will take away whatever time you saved and hurt you in the long run. 

Regarding the negative self talk - the only way I’ve been able to address that is with my therapist. She listened to the way I spoke and pointed out where that negative mindset was leaking into my speech. Her pointing that out, every time, over 6-ish hour-long sessions, managed to make me much more aware of it, and able to argue with it and correct it. 

My old routine was - not getting something done, feeling frustrated, and directing that frustration at myself. Getting angry at myself was a product of internalised self-blame for my symptoms. 

Once I became self-aware enough to notice that even happening, I was able to say “hey, I feel frustrated because I didn’t get that thing done. Argh, that is annoying, but I should not feel annoyed at myself. It just IS annoying”.

Just being kinder to myself when I struggle or fail has actually made me more productive in the long run. 

In a day where I used to get upset and work for 10+ hours and crash the next day, I will now work as much as I can until I feel hungry or tired and make a plan for the next day. I can usually get about 5-6 hours of work done on a good day. If I have a bad day, I acknowledge that it was a bad day and try not to blame myself. Making a conscious effort not to punish myself really, really helped me.

I get that work done with a combination of structure in my life/routine, medication, caffeine, and the fact that my job (illustration) is my special interest and I can hyperfocus on it when I have the energy/inspiration. Lots of luck there.

 But it’s good to notice how much work you can get done on a good day, note your energy levels, and whether the thing you’re working on is super draining or not. I recently finished a project that took MONTHS because I could only concentrate on it for 2-ish hours a day. Be patient with yourself!!! 

This is just my own experience, and might not work the same for everyone. But honestly, the whole inward anger about ADHD thing is really, really good to talk out with a therapist. Bloody hell this is a long post. 

[storytellerknight]

King Arthur Star Wars Style

Chapter Seventeen: Cutting Corners

Mordred drew in deep breaths through his nose.  He focused on the darkness the blindfold provided.  Anything to clear his mind.  Aunt Morgan kept promising that if he could just still his mind, he would begin to feel the force moving through him and it would start guiding his movements.  Only when his body was in tune with the force’s power would he be able to defend himself against the training module Aunt Morgan had set hovering around him.

Darkness.  There was nothing beyond the darkness.  His body was open to the power coursing through it.  He was one with the darkness.  With the stillness.  He was a vessel to the power of the force.  Nothing more.

Vessel.  Mordred suddenly couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be much better at this if he was piloting an actual vessel.  Take one of the bikes out onto the water and he didn’t need to think.  He could simply react as the aspidochelones sprung out of the water.

The blast from the module caught his hand.  Mordred cried out as he pulled the hand from the Caliburn sword and shook it out. While the training module wasn’t designed to cause any lasting damage—the blast didn’t even bruise—it did hurt.  It hurt a lot, as Mordred had discovered over the last two days.  

  “Focus,” Aunt Morgan chided.

She never said anything else when he faced off against the training module. Every time he took a hit, he also received her sharp reminder to focus.  Somehow the module seemed to know exactly when his attention was wandering. It only attacked then.  The whole endeavor was starting to feel less like training and more like punishment for not keeping his mind clear.  It didn’t help that he was utterly unable to keep his mind clear for any length of time.  Something always distracted him.

Shifting both hands along the hilt of the Caliburn sword, Mordred tried to do as Aunt Morgan asked.  He focused on the darkness and with every breath tried to clear his mind.  His body was a vessels to the power for the force.

A siren sounded.  It was louder than anything he had heard in his entire life and the reverberation was so forceful he felt like his skull was collapsing inward.  He dropped his Caliburn sword and clamped his hands over his ears.  By every measure it was a distraction and the training module responded by shooting him in the side.  He cried out and the sound ceased.

He expected a harsh word from Aunt Morgan.  If he was lucky there might be some real concern in her voice.  Either way, she’d want to know what happened. When she said nothing, Mordred straightened up and removed his blindfold.  

Aunt Morgan’s face was ashen and her lips had lost all color.  She looked completely disoriented and swayed in place. Mordred crossed the distance between then and grabbed her before she could fall.  

“Aunt Morgan?” he asked, wrapping one arm around her shoulder and grabbing her hand with the other.  She was ice cold.  Suddenly worried, Mordred shuffle her over to the table and sat her down in one of the chairs.  Kneeling in front of her, Mordred pressed his free hand against her forehead.  It was as cold as her hands.  Something was wrong.  He couldn’t think of a single illness or ailment that would explain her sudden drop in temperature and that frightened him.

“I’m going to get Lynette,” Mordred said, trying to stand up.  Aunt Morgan tightened her grasp on his hands and pulled him back.  

“It’s gone,” she whispered between chattering teeth as her whole body began to shake.  

“What’s gone?” Mordred asked.  “What happened?”

“A bright spot in the galaxy,” Aunt Morgan said.  “Small, but not insignificant.  Connections shattered.  Threads cut and frayed.  A balance disrupted.  Surely you felt it?”  Mordred shook his head.  “But…but I saw you react.  What did you feel, nephew?”

“I didn’t feel anything,” Mordred said.  “I heard…”  He paused and reconsidered the noise.  It hadn’t been a siren.  It had been too deep.  To…lifelike. “I heard someone scream.”

“One someone?” Aunt Morgan asked.  “Or many?”

“Just one.”

Aunt Morgan drew her hands out of his and pressed them against her mouth. Her eyes were still wide with terror as she continued to shiver.  “I feel something terrible has happened.”

A bright spot in the galaxy?  What did she mean by that?  Why had she had such a visceral reaction to whatever had happened while he had just heard a noise?  Unless…Someone had been shouting.  What if they had been shouting at him specifically, albeit unintentionally? What if that had been Gawain he’d heard and it the rebellion that Aunt Morgan had felt the loss of?  What if they were too late?

Footsteps behind him caused Mordred to turn as Lynette entered the mess.  She paused as her eyes swept over them.

“Well you two look awful,” Lynette said.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aunt Morgan said quickly before Mordred could answer.  “Just an old woman’s aches and pains.  I fear I may have overexerted myself.”

“I’ll say,” Lynette said as she went to the counter to make herself some food. “Ever since you two boarded, you’ve worked and trained nonstop.  You’re on a first rate passenger vessel.  Try acting like passengers for a change.  Sit back, relax, and forget that the whole military might of the Empire is hunting you right now.”

Mordred smiled as Aunt Morgan sighed in irritation.  He knew his aunt found Lynette to be trying and part of him felt bad that he couldn’t stand resolutely beside her in her frustration.  He couldn’t help it—he liked Lynette.  She was fun to be around and she had taught him a lot about piloting a ship in the days they had spent on the Damsel.  

“Oh, come on, old lady don’t be so uptight,” Lynette said.  “The puppy thinks I’m funny.  I can tell.”

“I’m fine now,” Aunt Morgan said, ignoring Lynette.  “You’d best get back to your training.”

“What?  Now?” Mordred asked.  “After what just happened, you can’t expect me to just clear my mind and focus on nothing.”

“Of course I do,” Morgan said.  “This is something you must learn.  There will be moments of high stress where you will be required to call upon the force and the act must become as simple as breathing.  Passion does you no good, nephew.  Only peace of mind.”

“Are you sure you’re well enough to continue?” Mordred asked, pressing his hand against her forehead.  He was relieved to find that she was warm again before she pushed him away.

“Quite,” Aunt Morgan said.  

Hearing the dismissal, Mordred stepped away from her and went to retrieve his blindfold and Caliburn sword.  Once the blindfold was positioned over his eyes, he swung the sword around so the blade appeared.  Taking up the correct stance, Mordred focused on the darkness and tried to even out his breathing.  He was a vessel to the power of the force…

Of course he was.  He had heard someone shouting in his head.  It was one of those connections Aunt Morgan had talked about.  Someone he knew had reached out in a moment of terror and Mordred had heard them.  It was a line he could, in theory, trace back to the source.  He could find out who he had heard.  He could find out if they were alright.  

He needed to be able to sense those lines if he was going to follow them back to the source.  Which meant turning his body into a vessel for the force to work through.  He needed to clear his mind, but that didn’t mean he had to think of nothing.

Mordred remembered a trick Aunt Morgause had taught him when he was little. He’d had a nightmare and had been too frightened to even attempt to sleep again.  Aunt Morgause had told him to think about everyone important to him and imagine a string connecting them to him.  She’d told him to imagine the string growing stronger and brighter as he thought about how much those people loved him and how they would do everything to protect him.

“Focus on the strings, Mordred.  Because they're real.  We’re all connected and the love we have for each other binds us together. Whenever you’re afraid, just think about those strings and what they represent.  You are loved, and you are not alone.”

Now that he thought about it, what Aunt Morgause had taught him then sounded a lot like what Aunt Morgan was trying to teach him now.  Maybe it was a part of her training as a Knight of Avalon that Aunt Morgan had passed on to her older sister?  Whatever it was, it seemed well worth trying now.

First and foremost, he focused on the connection between himself and Aunt Morgan. She was all he had in the galaxy now. He was grateful for everything she had done for him since Aunt Morgause and Agravain had been killed.  Because of her, he wasn’t alone.  

Next, and last really (who else did he have?), he thought about Gawain and Gareth. He hadn’t seen either cousin in years. He had no idea what they were doing now or if they were still alive.  He hoped so. There wasn’t a moment in his life where he hadn’t looked up to Gawain.  And Gareth was pure mischief and fun.  Tintagel had been so much quieter after he and Gaheris had left.  

Gaheris…was he still alive?  Was it even worth trying?  Gaheris was the reason he was in this mess.  Of course, because of Mordred, Gaheris’ fate remained unknown.  Really, he was closer now to Gaheris than he had ever been with his other cousins—even Agravain.  His fate and Gaheris’ were now tied together.  In Mordred’s mind, the string between the pulsed brightly with a warm, inviting light.

Something glowed in front of him.  Mordred blinked, wondering if he was seeing something through the blindfold. The light remained constant whether his eyes were open or closed.  The muscles in his arms tingled as he watched a faint line of light stretch out from the glow and zig-zag in front of him.  At two points along the line, light burst outward like a tiny firework, drifting towards him.  A moment later, the glowing light began to move along the zig-zagging line, heading towards the first burst.

The training module fired on him and Mordred moved to deflect it with the Caliburn blade.  The glow continued along the zig-zag and Mordred spun the blade around to deflect against a second blast as the glow hit the second burst of light.  

Mordred laughed as the lights faded from his mind’s eye.  He had done it.  He had cleared his mind, reached out for the force, and experienced its great power. He had done it.

“What was that?” Aunt Morgan yelled.  Startled, Mordred removed his blindfold to find her standing right in front of him.  

“What do you mean?” Mordred asked.  “I did it.  I cleared my head and felt the force moving through me…” He trailed off as he realized nothing he was saying had sated Aunt Morgan’s anger.

“Yeah, old lady,” Lynette said.  “That was damn impressive.  Give the kid a break.”

“Stay out of this,” Aunt Morgan said, sparing Lynette a scathing glare before turning her attention back to Mordred.  “I felt that, nephew.  You didn’t clear your mind.  You let your passion guide you.”

“No,” Mordred said.

“That way leads to darkness.”

“I wasn’t, Aunt Morgan.  I was focusing on clearing my mind using a trick Aunt Morgause taught me.”  That wasn’t the right thing to say and if anything Aunt Morgan’s anger only grew.  “It was a way to clear my head when I was scared by focusing on the people important to me.”

“People are unimportant, nephew,” Aunt Morgan said.  “The force doesn’t distinguish between people.  We are all important.  To put one being above another based on your feelings is dangerous. It leads to jealousy, anger, and hate. It is the path to darkness.  The Knights of Avalon are above that.  We value all and stand in the light.  Why do you think the knights don’t have families?”

“You do have a family,” Mordred said.  “I’m your family.”

“This is unorthodox,” Aunt Morgan said.  “If the order still existed, you would have been taken to the temple at Avalon to train as a page at ten and then at fourteen you would begin serving a knight as their squire.  In the old days, you would have never known I was your aunt.  I simply would have been another member of the order.  As valuable and important to you as anyone else.”

“Yeah, and how’d that work out for the Knights of Avalon?” Lynette asked.

Aunt Morgan turned to face her.  “I beg your pardon.”

“I was ten when the Emperor brought his might down upon the Knights and destroyed the Order,” Lynette said.  “I remember growing up on a planet where the people were terrified of their children showing any unusual abilities for fear the Knights of Avalon would take them. I’m not saying the galaxy has been sunshine and rainbows since the order fell.  But I know the people on my world breathed a sigh of relief.”

“You’re speaking of things you don’t understand,” Aunt Morgan said.  “The Knights of Avalon were the peacekeepers of the galaxy.  Under our watchful eye the Republic saw an unprecedented prosperity.  Your people owe us their gratitude.  Becoming a Knight of Avalon is certainly better life than being taken by Saxon raiders and sold into slavery.  At least with us they knew what they became of their children.”

“No, they didn’t,” Lynette said.  “Saxon raiders or the Knights of Avalon.  Either way they never saw their children again.”

“What we did, we did for the betterment of the galaxy.”

“Again, I ask, how’d that work out for you?” Lynette asked.  “Snatching children certainly didn’t save you from the Emperor.”

“Captain…” Mordred said softly, uncertain of where he should go from there. He was worried that Lynette and Aunt Morgan would come to blows if someone didn’t intervene.  

“No, nephew,” Aunt Morgan said.  “She’s right. Our own actions led to the fall of the Knights of Avalon.  We cut corners.  We broke the rules that were meant to protect us from the dark side of the force.  We took in a child who would have been better left untouched.  But because his power was so great, we didn’t know what else to do.  His training was unorthodox and we turned a blind eye to many of the warning signs because of his power.  I…I turned a blind eye.  It was my student Ursus who sided with the Emperor and betrayed the Knights of Avalon. It was Ursus who drove your father into the heart of the Empire.  It’s Ursus who continues to oversee his captivity.”

She reached out and rested a hand against Mordred’s face.  “I let Ursus cut corners in his training.  I allowed him to let his passions guide him when I should have counseled a calm mind and clear head.  And that’s why we need to be careful, nephew.  So much of your training is so unorthodox.  You’re far older than any page or squire.  You grew up among a family you care deeply for and I, your aunt, am your teacher.  You don’t understand how precarious your position is.  How easily it could all fall apart.”

“I’ll be careful,” Mordred said.  “I’m sorry, Aunt Morgan.  I didn’t know.”

Aunt Morgan sighed and drew away from him.  “This has been a trying day and I’m still shaken from…from earlier. I think its best I go lie down.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Lynette muttered under her breath.

Aunt Morgan gave Lynette a scathing look before collecting the training module and leaving the mess.  Mordred swung his Caliburn sword around so the blade disappeared.  He hooked it to his belt and went to join Lynette at the counter.  

“Well she’s a piece of work,” Lynette said.  Mordred sighed and turned to face the captain, but she held up a hand and wagged her finger in his face before he could say anything.  “No, puppy.  You listen to me.  A player knows when they’re dealing with another and she is playing you.  You’ve got this whole thing going on where she’s one of the few family members you have left and you think that matters but it doesn’t.  Not to her.  You heard her whole spiel.  People are unimportant.  Individuals don’t matter.  All that matters are the connections and what power she can get out of it.”

“You heard what she said about Ursus—”

“I heard someone desperately spinning tales to keep from losing a mark. She’ll only tell you the truth when it suits her.  You’ve gotta remember that.”

Mordred looked down at his hands.  Lynette had just neatly fueled his own fears regarding Aunt Morgan.  If she had meant what she’d said—if the individual really didn’t matter—then what was to stop her from using her powers on him if it served the whole?

“Look, why don't you stay on with us?” Lynette asked.  “We’ll drop the old lady and the droids on Lothian and leave them to find their own way.  Stay with me and Ax.  You’re a fast learner, a good shot, and you’ve got the makings of a decent pilot. We could use someone like you.”

“Thank you,” Mordred said.  “I appreciate the offer but…I still have two cousins in the rebellion and I’m not ready to give up on them.  It’ll be better once we get where we’re going.”

“If you say so,” Lynette said flippantly.  A soft alarm chimed from somewhere above them.  Lynette looked up and then back at Mordred.  “We just dropped out of hyperspace.  I’d better go help Ax with the landing.  You wanna come?  There’s nothing quite like seeing a planet on approach.  Especially when you don’t have star destroyers on your tail.”

“I’ll be up in a minute,” Mordred said, motioning to his room.  He wanted to change his clothes and freshen up before they landed.

“See you soon,” Lynette said, spinning away from him and heading towards the cockpit.  

[ecotone99]

[HM] Who

What... Huh?

were my first thoughts as I felt myself take ahold of my consciousness.

Where... Wh—No, where... The. What.

I blinked a few times, slowly gaining control of my body's senses. Underneath me, I felt a scratchy but comfortable material supporting my body. My face felt numb and my nose picked up a number of unexplainably unpleasant smells.

In my direct line of sight, there was a small television set a few feet away, blaring images my mind was too weak to comprehend. I attempted to move my head to get a more complete look of my surroundings, only to feel a sharp pain in my neck. It was stiff. Possibly from my awkward position while I slept.

Where was I? Why was I asleep? Why don't I...?

There was a throb in my skull—a signal from the brain that it was overexerted. The soreness in my eyes felt the same. What had I been doing?

I recovered from the pain in my neck only for the sounds and bright lights coming from the television to overload my senses. Instinctively, I pressed down with a finger and the sounds suddenly stopped. The screen switched to black. I looked down—carefully because of the crick in my neck—to find my hand wrapped around a small battered device the size of a remote control.

It was a remote control.

My hand... How had I known to do that?

I let go of the remote control and studied my hands, holding them up to my face. They were on the short side, with the nails overgrown and unclean, but otherwise, looking fine with all fingers I knew of accounted for. No scars. No marks.

I used my hands to get a feel of myself. I needed to know more.

Hanging loosely from my upper body was a blue t-shirt with small unidentifiable stains. My legs were lightly covered with pajama bottoms. My feet were bare.

Feeling less light-headed and more in control of my self, I hoisted myself up—a challenging feat—to a standing position to get a better bearing of what other mysteries there were around me.

Keeping my body standing took more effort than anticipated and I heard a low groan from my own throat as I forced my legs to adapt to the situation. They shook in resistance but the mind prevailed.

I allowed myself an exhale when I finished making certain that I would stay upright.

On to the next mission.

I swiveled my head (ow) and took in everything I could see, smell, hear, and feel.

I was in a room. It was of average size but barren save for the television set, a brown sofa meant for one (where I had woken up) and, of course, me.

Me. Me... Who was I? Why can't I remember...?

Since my thoughts still refused to cooperate, I grabbed at my body again for more identification. Two tender lumps on my chest. Female, I concluded.

My glance at my reflection on the dark screen of the television proved that theory wrong and that I was not a woman. I was just fat.

Squinting, I managed to make out a young man of moderate height, long light brown hair and plenty of excess weight. This was not much information.

It also hurt a bit.

Demoralized, I turned away from my image. I knew enough of how I looked. But my past...

The walls of the room were a faded cream, lit only by a single fluorescent light, bathing everything its light touched in a sickly glow. There were no windows and no—Doorway! My eyes found a doorway, which lead somewhere. Somewhere other than here.

But where is here? I asked myself, my teeth clenched and my breathing turned ragged. What happened to me? Why can't I...

I calmed myself down. I was still in potential danger. I needed to know many things: who I was, what I had done and why I had done it, among many others. But at the moment, I only needed the answer to one question: What lies in the next room?

I took a tentative step forward, only to instantly feel something cold under my naked feet.

A knife.

I hadn't noticed it before, but on the floor of the room was a small blunt knife, coated in a dark substance that resembled the stains on my shirt.

I shuddered, wavering. I wanted to leave the knife. Leave it behind. But would that mean leaving behind my past? Would I even like who I was, if I ever did?

I felt the air turn cold as the surface of the blade and I chose to pick it up, if ever I needed a weapon.

Feeling more powerful with something to hold, I forged on, one foot at a time, taking in everything I could.

The next room was dark. And cold. I preferred the other room, but there was nothing to learn there.

I tried to see in the dark and failed, only noting that there was the sound of water. A bathroom?

I was disoriented when I realized I didn't even know the time or date. It could have been night time or noon and I wouldn't know.

Feeling with my hand and the knife, I felt a structure as cold as the floor, that purred quietly. I felt for a crack and found one. I almost jumped when cold air blasted across my body.

It was a refrigerator. An empty one.

The absence of food made my stomach grumble. I failed to realize I was in a kitchen and thought about when I had last eaten. Was it an hour ago? Weeks ago? It felt like I had been lying on the sofa for days, asleep.

Was I a prisoner? A slave? Forced to stay in harsh conditions with nothing to keep me alive for long? If so, why? What had I done to deserve this? Had I done something for this? Had I committed some crime and am in a prison for it? Am I just waiting here for my punishment? Is this the punishment? Has trauma caused my mind to fail? What horrors have I witnessed so that I would want no memory of it anywhere—no trace to be found, even in my mind?

Do I still want to know who I am? Do I have loved ones? Family? Anyone? Anything? Is this my hell? This gnawing uncertainty? This mystery that will remain unsolved? How am I sure that this is the first time this has happened? How long have I been here? How long have I been doing this? When—

Knock, knock, knock!

I got whiplash as I turned towards the end of the lightless room, where the sound came from. My heart convulsed in horror as I heard the sound of a door unlocking and being opened.

Who is that? What is that? Is it—?

And then, there was light.

Blinding.

*

"Oh my GOD, Herbert!" said the man who came in, dropping the bags he had been holding. He sounded exasperated. He looked around as I blinked through the sudden light. I vaguely heard him move past me to the refrigerator.

My eyes returned to normal as the man shoved a small cardboard box that rattled under my nose.

"Did you take these while I was out?" he demanded.

"...I dont—"

"Of course you don't!" the man yelled, throwing his hands up. He set the box down and I saw that they read "Amnesia Pills! 20% Off!".

"You were supposed to wait after I came back with snacks to drink the pills," the man said, pacing around the small kitchen. "We were gonna watch The Sixth Sense for the first time again, Herb, you idiot!"

I nodded sagely. "Herb..." The name sounded familiar.

The man stared at me furiously before muttering something about the price being too good to be true and how impatient Herb (I) could be.

"...I mean, look at the place! Your dirty dishes are everywhere, and you're standing in the dark like a psycho, holding a knife with jam you probably tracked on the floors, and you don't even know who you are because you wanted to relive watching a dumb movie again!"

"I see..." I kept nodding. It was all becoming clear now.

The man gave me one last look of hot fury before turning on his heel and setting himself down on the couch, muttering about how I was the worst and how he even put up with me.

I looked down at my feet and then back to him. There was one final question left...

"Do you still want to watch the movie?"

submitted by /u/Dick_Cory [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2vTZk9t

[dekumidoriyall]

not gonna lie. I slacked on my triceps this week. ): they’re lacking the usual definition but a quick circuit will pump em up im sure. ALSO i indulged on a whole bag of hot cheeto puffs last night and 1. my stomach wasn’t happy about it. 2. my ass isn’t happy about it. and 3.it doesn’t matter bc i was so happy in the moment with those cheetos. lol

Also please notice how i said I “indulged” at first I was going to write cheated, but that implies that my diet is a fad and not a lifestyle- which isn’t true because I’m trying to cultivate a diet that is healthy yet realistic to maintain. AND that means induging is OK. Cheat means guilt and guilt leads to shame and shame leads to defeat and defeat leads to giving up AND THATS NOT AN OPTION.

My body and I are on this ride together and it’s up to me to make sure it’s getting the nutrition it needs but also the DONUTS it needs. CAN I GET AN AMEN???

Anyway, by not feeling guilty about it, it just motivates me to feed and nourish my body better today. Should I have eaten THE WHOLE BAG? probably not. But I don’t need to punish myself with a calorie restriction or overexerting my exercise- because I already have a good regimen that allows for all the extra junk i wanna indulge in. And it keeps me from OVERindulging.

aha, anyway, progress.

[justafinemess]

Shaking hands.

It’s a curious thing that trembling hands are a sign for me to reach for one of 3 things:

A pen A Keyboard A Piano

I think of my mother when my hands start to shake. 

My mother’s hands began to tremble when she married for the second time. They shook when he made a demand she couldn’t fulfill, they shook when he turned his angry gaze her way. They shook when he rose his voice. They shook when she wound up in the hospital.

10 years later, long after he was gone... they never stopped shaking. 

So when my fingers start to twitch uncontrollably, I fear that my strength is about to vanish forever. I reach for the things that never fail to expel the panic. I turn to a pen or a keyboard to write out the ache that is turning me into a monster. I turn to a piano and play until I cramp, relying on the conversation between man and music to pull my mind from everything that haunts me.

Today, a keyboard will be my release:

I stood outside in the parking lot, secreted away between the trucks where I couldn’t be seen. As I stood there, I wept. Everything that has been building up inside me these past few weeks finally erupted in a flurry of frustrated tears. Because I was angry with everything. I was just so impossibly pissed that it was all slipping through my fingers. I had been juggling clumsily for so long. It wasn’t like I dropped the ball either. It was more like the balls grew enormous razor sharp spikes. I just figured I would hold on through the performance while my palms began to bleed. It would heal. I can do this. Just a little longer...

I have been afraid. Afraid of failing. Afraid of making a mistake that couldn’t be rectified. Afraid of destroying a love that had just begun to blossom. Afraid of losing myself in this chaos. Afraid of going back to that dark place I fell into not too long ago. 

At first it was fine. That’s what makes it worse. It was more than fine, it was amazing. Feeling like something unlocked in my relationship that promised nothing but a wonderful future together. Experiencing time with family unlike any other. Watching the world right itself into a position where the only move forward suggested sheer beauty and peace of mind. 

And then it shifted.

The world got busier. The planning got faster. I have amazing skill when it comes to getting everything organized and moving, I take the time to make lists and have things ready days before it comes into play. That way the margin of error is minimal. But this time I couldn’t do that. This time I wasn’t the only person involved. This time whenever I tried to get the planning in motion I was met with resistance or lack of information. Getting anything done was inefficient, sloppy and took much longer than necessary. So I took it upon myself, as I always do, to do it alone. I figure if I can manage to do it on my own, then everyone else will have less to think about. Instead I was given looks of impatience with my choices and discouraged out of taking the initiative.

All I needed was “Thank you, I appreciate it” 

Instead I watched as complaints littered the internet about my shortcomings.Complaints that were left in silence when I tried to communicate. Words are important to me. I tried to make peace and was met with hostility; leaving me in a hopeless spiral of doing different things that I believed would release the tension. Whatever I could do... I would do it.

And I did it alone. I hoped that my efforts were noticed. Instead I was disrespected in front of the people I love the most.  And old ghosts were reached out to. And the panic increased. So I tried again to get through. I prayed for an opening, a connection, a chance to simply understand.

Instead I was left alone to struggle with my thoughts. So I stayed productive. I did it alone, all the while wondering why I suddenly felt a loneliness deeper than before. Wondering why it seemed to be easier for someone to talk to others besides the one person who has always been here. Wondering if I was failing. Afraid that I had somehow made a mistake. 

And then I was reprimanded for a dilemma that had nothing to do with me in the first place. At this point my palms are soaked in red. I’m still trying to juggle with this twisted fucking smile on my face, each time the ball lands in my hand the spikes sink in. I never wince. This is fine. It will be fine. 

All the while I’m watching the distance grow larger. The sweet promise of the future start to fade out in the face of the present day. I’m wondering if the audience can see the first tear slip through. I do a quick twirl to whisk it away.

Everything will be fine, I just need a little time.  Then the small things start to wear me down.  It’s fine. I go to reach for the one person I need to feel right again. It’s fine. They are a million miles away. That’s fine. When they are present, there is anger in their voice and impatience in their eyes. It’s fine.  So I handle it alone.  Because what I try to do isn’t enough.  Because I’m being punished with words like “I just won’t say anything anymore” It’s fine.

And then the light caught my eye the wrong way. I was just so tired from poor sleep and overexerting myself. From trying to do things the best way I know how and not being able to. From trying to make things right that I know bone deep have somehow gone wrong. The light burned... I dropped the balls. The audience fell silent.

And out there in the parking lot, I cried for all the things that we going wrong. I cried for feeling like I couldn’t lean on you when it’s felt like all you have been doing lately is relying on me. I happily gave what I could, but if I slipped even once, none of it seemed to matter anymore. I cried for everything that was out of my control. I cried for the good things I had tasted only a few weeks ago. I cried for the pain in my back, the tension in my shoulders and the dull headache I have been feeling for days without release. I cried for the nights I curled up beside you because it makes me feel better, only to be told “why do you have to lay on me?!”

I cried for remembering when you told me “You are the best thing that ever happened in my life” while reading “You were a gift from god” the day you wouldn’t speak to me.

I cried for the help I have been asking for over the last two weeks that I wound up handling on my own.

I cried for the moment you stared at me in a now ruined car, expecting an answer and all I wanted to do was scream. 

Why did I cry?

Not because I was upset.

It’s because I can’t make any of this right on my own.

Because even if I could, I don’t know what to start with.

And right now... it feels like I’m the only person I can lean on

The balls linger on the floor now, I have no idea when I will pick them up again. 

All I know is that my hands aren’t shaking anymore.

[myfoolishopinions]

“Health as a Resource”

I'm not the healthiest person imaginable, especially in terms of BMI indices, but look -- there's shit about overexertion on school that one can learn from my story. Health as a resource is an old card game strategy that I picked up from Hearthstone but it applies surprisingly well for real life stuff.

So let's start at the beginning, shall we? Over the course of my academic career, I've gotten dangerously superstitious to a point approaching OCD, I've suffered a panic attack over almost failing out of a class, and there have been tests were my dread was clearly expressed through body language and sweat production. My parents expected good things from me, but not to the extent that I drove myself towards. I convinced myself that I needed to constantly one-up myself to a practically dangerous level.

From what I remember, this business of becoming physically ill or horribly anxious from testing started way early, like back in the second grade or something. I have memories of total panic coming over me with regards to testing, so much so that I'd run to to nurse or to find my grandma who worked at my school kitchen on some days. It was rough; I feel in retrospect that I must've been a hell of a burden in that regard, but it probably got better over time. There were a few panic moments I remember in sixth grade, but nothing too noteworthy. By the time eight grade rolled around, all I really did was play MW2 and waste my life away, so there wasn't much to be done on that front.

Skip to Freshman year, where I failed my first quiz in math in effectively my life, leaving me questioning everything. Did I deserve to be here? Did I want to be in the advanced classes? I did and I drove myself insane to prove it. I pre-planned entire essays before they were to be done on weekly exams. I ensured that I showed up for homework help. My heart fluttered any time I picked up a pen for an assignment; it was tough to stay focused on the present and if I messed up a single thing, I'd be stuck on that failure for weeks. Pop quizzes were met with a sinking feeling of lack of preparedness. I kept my head down and refused to be tutored; I'm still a hard-headed person regarding tutoring -- I feel that if I can't get the answers myself and need to rely on others, something just isn't for me. So I set myself up to punish myself forever.

So what sort of things happened outside of classes? I would stop short of walking to school to distance myself and walk the same way to school every day. I'd skip certain stairs on staircases. I'd sing specific songs to myself in my head the night before for certain tests. I'd intentionally show up to places at particular times. I'd text someone at the same location practically everyday with almost the same message. In multiple places on a defined route. That lasted almost three full years. A lot of that, I'm happy to say, was something that I tried fixing by Senior year and I'm mostly better about that, though I did become way insular about myself as a result.

So college hits. Other than the whole impending doom of needing to find a calling, make money, spent time away from home for long periods, adjust to an entirely new writing style that was fundamentally more complex to me at first, and all, it went alright I suppose. So like only a couple tears. So Freshman year's end, where I got a C in Calc IV didn't bother me all too much. It was a learning experience that I should've gleaned a lesson from.

Cue Sophomore year, my statistical best year and worst for quality of life. It's the dead of Winter in some shitty ass, non-ventilated room with a decent view. I took Stats with Calc, because I like challenging myself, but I was woefully unprepared for the whole situation. There were far too many rings to fly though; I couldn't understand the professor, the homework became incomprehensible, and at that same moment, the first Midterm hits. I'm scrambling to learn, panicking as I realize I haven't the slightest, and turn to the advisory board as a last ditch effort to save my own ass. I got real lucky after two days of being totally distraught, getting probably the closest to self-destructive I've ever been, when they allowed me to transfer into a lower class with a pretty fine professor. I learned a lot and it actually stuck, which was a hell of a lot better.

So yeah, that sort of takes it's toll though. I guess the message here is really when you're an overachiever, don't inflict pain upon yourself even if you're chasing a dream. It's just not worth the health costs, the stress levels, and the mental strain. Feeling normal and talking to friends is way more important than I had ever realized when I tried to quit gaming back in Freshman year in high school. Guilt-tripping yourself only makes things worse and furthers one's fear of failure. I just hope that you don't end up like me and try fixing every one of your problems by yourself. It's worth it to either talk to someone or release one's emotions though a safe funnel. Mental health is important and it's definitely worth talking about. Health as a resource is a strategy that I used to get where I am, no doubt, but sustaining that is horrible and not worth it in the slightest.