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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

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Rewatching RWBY there's this chilling lack of empathy through the volumes that I used to just wave off. Yang has no empathy for Tai, Blake is just entirely about what Blake needs, Weiss almost kills a woman at a party and her takeaway is 'my dad is mean so I'm going to run away'. Qrow sinks hard into depression in vol. 6 and Ruby's reaction is to yell she's never needed him. No one has EVER helped a civilian. It's so prevelant. Knowing how 7&8 go really changes the earlier writing.

I think there was a great deal of well-written empathy in the early volumes — after all, this cast was designed as the kind, well-meaning heroes — but that care was expressed almost solely within the group itself. Ruby sits by Jaune in the hallway and says "Nope!" to his self doubt. Weiss offers Ruby a hand up after she fails to kill the death stalker. Yang seeks out Blake and gets her to open up about what's bothering her. Now, I want to emphasize that there's nothing inherently wrong with this. It actually makes perfect sense. These are our main characters and they're written as peers co-habiting the same space. Of course whatever emotional growth we get, which automatically includes moments of compassion, would be directed towards each other. Similarly, the dynamics originally introduced — that of teachers and parents — likewise (rightly) puts the burden on the adults to provide the comfort, not the other way around. Port snaps Weiss out of her arrogant mindset. Ozpin reassures Ruby about her leadership worries. Tai is there to support his daughter when she's recovering from a lost limb. That's the natural order of things, so to speak.

The problem, to my mind, begins to occur when the group exits those dynamics. They're no longer students, they're licensed huntsmen. They're no longer kids, but equals who never needed adults in the first place. They're no longer doing things for themselves and their friends on personal downtime, they're doing them for the community at large as a profession (to say nothing of the world-altering war they've insisted on shouldering responsibility for). That's what a huntsmen is meant to be, a defender of the people, not someone who uses that power for personal interests alone. All of this is a huge change from where we started out: cutesy kids going off on comparatively low-stakes adventures because one or more of their teammates are invested, only just beginning to realize that they're signing up for a job where their desires come second (that fireside conversation at Mountain Glenn).

This change invites — demands, really — that the audience read them differently too. Qrow's spiral in Volume 6 is a good example of this. If Ruby is demanding to be treated not just as an equal in terms of maturity and experience, but also as the primary leader of this group, then the viewer expects her to treat her uncle as an equal too, not dismiss his hardship. I've seen numerous fans defend that arc with some version of, "He's her uncle. He's supposed to take care of her. He's failing" but that, according to the show, is no longer the dynamic. Qrow is now just a member of Ruby's team, someone she's responsible for as their leader. It's easiest to see the problem if we switch out Qrow for any of the other members. If Blake developed a drinking problem, do we think Ruby would just shout at her until she magically got over it? If Jaune endangered the group, do we think they'd all be angry about it, rather than trying to figure out the source of what caused the mistake? We don't even need to think hypothetically for that one because we saw it on screen. Jaune attacked Oscar and drove him off, not just threatening him, but arguably endangering the whole team by requiring a search party. Fans have long insisted they had to steal that airship right then because being in Argus was too much of a risk, but if we buy that reading (which I personally don't, but), then that means Jaune made things exponentially worse by forcing them out into that super dangerous city, rather than allowing everyone to stay hidden inside. He made a massive mistake which, according to the logic of Qrow's arc, should be met with frustration, disdain, and eventual demands to get over his anger at Ozpin or ship out. But, of course, he received nothing but concern. Yang was worried about him, not Oscar. The search becomes about his grief for Pyrrha and his team's willingness (as well as Pyrrha's family member) to provide more comfort. Suddenly, the tendency to express care solely towards those within the group becomes a flaw the story won't acknowledge.

And then it spirals. The thing to remember is that no single act here is bad on its own, especially when we consider that yes, we want flawed characters. Rather, it's about the pattern. Ruby is allowed to get mad at Qrow for his behavior and chuck her scroll in frustration. She's human. I'd be crazy frustrated too. However, if Ruby is meant to be written as a caring, sympathetic character, she should not only respond to the situation with frustration, yelling, a refusal to listen, and demands that he follow her lead, no questions asked. We can, and should, acknowledge that Weiss was the victim during that party. Her father was hurting her, the woman was beyond insensitive, Weiss was triggered in regards to a horrific event, and her power acted on its own. However, if we want to write Weiss as a compassionate, mature huntress to-be, she should acknowledge that she nearly killed someone — even an asshole someone — and vow to work on her control because she's not willing to put someone in danger like that ever again. Both of these moments have a "They could have been handled better" response attached to them — the former more-so than the latter imo — but these moments are made far, far worse due to later events in the show, events where the characters are cruel without any justification attached. Weiss didn't mean to attack that woman, but she did mean to ignore Whitely and threaten him with her weapon. So once we see that, it informs our understanding of what came before it. "Oh. The fact that Weiss never reacted to nearly killing someone isn't just a bit of missed potential, it's an early indicator that she... doesn't seem to care. If she endangers people, threatens people... that's fine with her." The group has a right to be frustrated with Qrow. The group did not have the right to magically steal Ozpin's entire life story, assault him, and blame him for the world's problems until he felt his only course of action was to run from them. So when we see that it becomes, "Oh. The fact that the group treated Qrow so poorly isn't just a one-time mistake born of a stressful situation and young adults being out of their depth in regards to alcoholism. They really will just abandon anyone the moment they start making mistakes." Anyone outside of their group, that is.

To say nothing of how all of these moments interconnect. Yang's recovery isn't just about getting used to not having an arm, it's about getting used to having a new one. Weiss' party isn't just about nearly killing someone, it's about not committing manslaughter because someone else stepped in. The Volume 6 arc isn't just about trying to escape with the Relic, it's about trying to get it somewhere safe. Fans frustrated with Ironwood's treatment don't harp on these details out of some desperate attempt to make him look good post-murder spree, rather, they recognize that he's a character that's been around since nearly the beginning, originally written as a good guy, and thus has accumulated a number of key connections with the cast. So when none of those connections are acknowledged during an arc about trust... that makes the group look very uncaring. Yang doesn't care that he gave her the arm, Weiss doesn't care that he saved her from hurting/potentially killing someone, Qrow doesn't care that he's trusted Ironwood for years (in a rival-bros way) and that they've been heading towards him this whole time. And when Ironwood begins to spiral, they don't do anything to try and help him, let alone acknowledge that their own choices, that lack of trust and empathy, had a hand in getting them here. "But it's not their responsibility to fix him!" Isn't it? Even a little? Just as human beings seeing an ally struggling under horrific decisions and circumstances? Sure, they don't have to try... but that doesn't make them look very heroic to my mind. And we can't even shrug that off by simplifying things with, "Well, Ironwood is evil now so who cares about him." They simultaneously don't care about finding Qrow who is missing, then captured. They don't do anything to try and find their missing teammates, with the exception of sending May to do it instead. They don't help the army fight off the grimm. Don't try to make sure Pietro and Maria had portals to escape through. Barely hesitate when the newly resurrected characters goes, "Kill me. That's the easiest thing for everyone." And these are just a few of the big ticket moments. It doesn't even begin to cover all the details we get that paint a picture of, "Wow okay. They just really don't care about people outside the group, huh? I mean, they say they do, in a life-or-death way, but they're not putting forth effort to show it on a daily basis."

And if you pick up on all that, if you acknowledge how much the group has changed based on where they started out, you might wonder when in the world that started. Surely we didn't just flip a switch around Volume 6. So you re-watch early stuff and, sure enough, there are moments that feel like setup for what's to come later. Not intentional setup (quite obviously), but a lack of care towards details across the series that, once the dynamic changed, became far, far more pronounced. Characters should be at least somewhat recognizable from start to finish, especially characters who have only experienced about two years of in-world time, so if we now get to see Ruby blandly commenting on all the people who are dying, or Weiss using her weapon as a means of coercing her little brother into doing what she wants, or Yang and Jaune dismissing Ren until he gives in to their point of view... we're going to look for the beginnings of that behavior early on. As you say, we were able to wave all those little details off due to a number of important factors. Now though? Now they feel like they hold a lot more weight, simply by virtue of that early material proceeding what we have now.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

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skdubbs · 4 years ago

Text

Let Love Find You

Chapter 1: An Awkward Introduction

Summary: Love has a funny way of finding you when you’re not looking for it. Commander Fox discovered this the hard way when a box arrived on base and pique his interest.

Here it is. I can’t believe I'm finally doing this. A huge huge HUGE shoutout and thank you to @detroitbydark for all of the encouragement, feedback, and listening to my ramblings about this story. You’re the best.

This story will be the first in a collection of three interconnected stories taking place at the same time. I hope you all enjoy!

It all started with a box.

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard stared at the parcel currently sitting on his desk amidst piles of carefully cataloged holopads. The contents of said package laid innocently next to the box. He’d had part of it scanned and tested, twice. Absolutely nothing alarming to be found. And yet Fox was still unsettled.

In the year since taking up his post, he’d never been rendered speechless. Well, today the boys could mark it down in the books. Truly, the commander didn’t know what to say. Or think. Or do. The mental conundrum Fox found himself in was beyond exasperating. Sighing, Fox shook his head, then glanced at the flimsi note he held. Once more, he read the delicately written script.

To: Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard

Dear Sir,

I’m sure this package and its contents might cause alarm and confusion. Please don’t allow it to do either. This is simply a token to express my thanks to the troopers involved with the skirmish in the market district on Level 3 nearly four rotations ago. Their actions saved my life and that of my daughter. When we expressed our gratitude, my daughter felt the shock trooper didn’t think we were sincere. Hence, this small gift. I ask that you please see to it that the troopers involved receive this token and understand how grateful we were for their timely arrival. For there are citizens on this planet who are aware of the services the Guard provides to ensure our continued safety and peace. Thank you for your help in this matter.

Sincerely,

Arissa Blunt

Fox knew without looking it up what skirmish Ms. Blunt referred to, as well as the troopers involved. Reach’s report had made mention of the two citizens he’d pulled away from the fire fight, a young woman and child. Interestingly enough, Fox had also heard through the guard barrack’s grapevine that Reach spent most of that night crowing about a civvie thanking him and how pretty she’d been. According to Reach, her body was a man’s wet dream.

At the time Fox had scoffed and pushed the matter out of his mind. He had far more important matters to contend with than one of his trooper’s infatuations. All of the men would have one at some point or other. It was a natural result with overexposure to civilians after a lifetime of social isolation. Fox was one of the few he knew to never fall to such an affliction. That didn’t mean he hadn’t dabbled and explored his options. The commander had simply never experienced the magic of someone capturing his attention for more than a moment of a little physical pleasure. Until now.

Commander Fox was intrigued, all because of a box of homemade ginger spice cookies, a short note, and an infatuated trooper’s embellished description. Again, Fox sighed. Maker, he needed a drink. And it wasn’t even 1200 yet.

He commed Captain Stone, the squad leader there on the day in question.

“This is Stone,” came the greeting.

“Captain, round up the troopers involved in the skirmish on Level 3, I’m sure you remember the one,” Fox instructed. “They’ve got a gift waiting for them in my office. Apparently Reach’s story wasn’t completely fabricated.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. It was brief, but Fox knew it for what it was. Shock. “Right away, sir,” Stone replied.

Fox disconnected, then turned to inspect the baked goods still sitting on his desk. Ginger spice cookies. Homemade, no less. Damn, they smelled good.

Fox smirked. What the men didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He plucked one cookie from the pile, taking a small bite to test the flavor. A groan of delight broke past his lips. This was one of the best frekkin’ things he’d ever had the pleasure of eating, and that's saying something. After all, the position of Commander of the Coruscant Guard afforded certain luxuries and privileges that few other clones were allowed.

The commander took another bite, savoring the taste. What he wouldn’t give to have something this good to eat every day. His eyes found the note again, sitting on his desk in stark contrast to everything else. Arissa Blunt. One has to wonder what kind of woman she was. Fox had every intention of finding out.

-----

After giving the boys their gift (the looks of shock and delight on their faces had caused a grin on his), Fox decided to investigate. It took little effort to find the information he needed. Another perk to his position.

Arissa Blunt, single human female aged 22 standard years. Currently a member of the Republic military’s research and development division located here on base. His brows had raised at that. He merely needed to leave his office and walk across the facility in order to find her. Her focus was prototype military-grade weapons. So, she worked on creating better ways for his brothers on the front to do their job. While he didn’t know her, Fox felt a swell of appreciation for this woman.

He was shocked and intrigued to find she held her position with no formal training. Instead, Ms. Blunt came into the program through the recommendation of a member of the board. It was highly irregular. Perhaps some nepotism was involved? But that made no sense either. According to her file, Ms. Blunt had no living relatives, only a young daughter named Gemma. Cute name, he’d thought.

Out of curiosity, Fox looked her up too. Gemma Blunt, single human female aged 5 standard years. Currently enrolled on scholarship at a school for gifted young children located noooo in a more well-to-do area of the upper levels. So, the kid was smart.

A part of Fox was impressed. And even more intrigued, especially as he gazed at Ms. Blunt’s photo. Reach hadn’t exaggerated, she was quite pretty. Not in the glamour model sort of way. But you could see the potential lying underneath her cute veneer should she ever try to be one. And those eyes….well, they’d surprised him too. Most humans didn’t have violet colored eyes, at least not naturally. But on her they were stunning. They drew you in and spoke volumes. As if the secrets they held were more than just her own. She could know yours without you evening realizing. A fanciful thought perhaps, but there all the same.

And that is why Commander Fox found himself making the long trek to the R&D division on base a few hours later. Amazingly, he had an hour free. Plenty of time to pay Ms. Blunt a visit. He could convey the men’s appreciation and slake his curiosity.

He’d found a technician by the name of A’tron Rogers when he arrived. The man had the audacity to scoff at him when he stated who he was looking for. Fox wisely kept his helmet on, knowing full well what kind of person he was dealing with. It was rather obvious what Mr. Rogers thought of clones and about doing anything for them. One had to wonder why he was in a position that required him to help create weapons that helped said clones.

“Yeah, she’s back here,” he’d snapped. “Follow me.”

Resisting the urge to call the man on his insubordination, Fox followed. They made their way further back into the lab and came to a stop at what looked to be some kind of long range canon. However, the weapon wasn’t what caught Fox’s attention.

Fox froze, his brain gone blank. Before his eyes, bent over at just the right angle, was perhaps the most perfectly shaped ass he’d ever seen. His mouth watered while his blood rushed south. Mentally, he cursed. This was not a good way to start an introduction.

“Blunt!” Rogers practically screeched, trying to get the technician's attention. It certainly did the trick, albeit in a painful way. Arissa’s head shot up, caught by surprise, only to have it collide with the paneling of the prototype she’d been working on. A string of low muttered curses followed the loud clang. Fox winced in sympathy.

After a moment or two, Arissa straightened, seemed to take a steadying breath, then turned to face them. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second when they landed on him. However, she recovered quickly, her face becoming unreadable as she turned to her coworker.

Fox wished he could say the same. That beautiful shebs he’d been staring at not long ago should have warned him at what else he’d see. Because, by the maker, Reach hadn’t exaggerated. Not one bit. Arissa Blunt truly was a man’s wet dream. Her hair was up and covered, but he didn’t need to see the dark brown wavy locks again to know how it finished the masterpiece that stood before him. Even wearing coveralls covered in grease splotches couldn’t detract from that hourglass figure or the small waist. And her breasts. By Fett, they were a handful and more. So much more. Again, Fox was grateful he’d chosen to keep his bucket on. He’d have looked like a gaping fool otherwise.

Arissa addressed Rogers, her voice even and devoid of emotion. “Did you need something, Rogers?”

The shorter man huffed, obviously put out by her lack of response to him. Fox made a mental note of that. Maybe it wasn’t just clones the man had a problem with. “You’ve got a visitor. Commander Fox here needs to speak with you.”

The technician’s gaze swung over to him, that violet gaze holding him captive. Again, he noticed a moment of trepidation, as if she feared his presence. Fox scowled, annoyance flaring. Her reaction was classic for a citizen. They either looked at him and his brothers with fear or disdain. He wasn’t sure which pissed him off more.

“I see,” she replied. “Well, I’m due a fifteen anyway. If you need me, we’ll be in the conference room.”

Rogers snorted, then left. Yup, that chakaaryc really didn’t like Arissa Blunt. Fox focused his attention on the woman before him. As he looked closer, her nerves became more obvious. What did she have to be nervous about?

“Ms. Blunt,” he greeted, his voice stiff and formal.

“Commander Fox,” she greeted in return. Grabbing a rag, she wiped her hands off, then motioned for him to follow her. “Whatever you need to tell me, it’d be best said in the conference room. Otherwise, everyone else in the department will know about it before the end of the day. You wouldn’t think it, but the lot here are as bad as a bunch of gossiping housewives.”

Nodding, he followed. As they left the lab and made their way down the hallway, Fox couldn’t help his eyes from looking. The sway of those hips were going to haunt him. Another curse ran through his mind.

Soon enough they reached their destination, Arissa gesturing him inside. He took up a position further in, standing at attention while he waited for her to shut the door.

“Would you rather sit, Commander?”

“No thank you, miss. But please don’t stand on my account. Have a seat.”

He patiently waited while Arissa got comfortable. Once she seemed settled, he dove right in. “I assume you know why I’m here?”

That flash of trepidation was back. It was gone immediately, but still, he saw it.

“I think so,” she quietly answered. Her tongue came out to wet her lips. Despite himself, Fox felt a knee jerk reaction to the tiny movement. Maker, this needed to stop. Now.

“Then explain yourself,” he ordered.

That got her attention. Arissa straightened, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Explain myself? I thought the note I left was pretty self-explanatory.”

“Perhaps,” he hedged. “However, your reaction to my appearance here would say otherwise. I thought you appreciated what the guard does for the citizens of Coruscant. Someone who is appreciative doesn’t respond with fear in their eyes.”

Arissa’s eyes widened, first in shock, then in anger. However, when she next spoke, her voice remained even. “From my point of view, your sudden appearance here is rather suspect. Troopers, let alone commanders, don’t make random visits to this part of the base. Any fear you saw was my worry that I’d done something wrong.”

That made Fox pause, considering. Her words in the note had sounded sincere. And someone who feared or hated clones wouldn't have sent something in the first place, not without it having some sort of repercussion. Perhaps she had a point. Finally, Fox relaxed his stance.

“I suppose your reaction would make sense then,” he conceded. “I apologize for alarming you, Ms. Blunt.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, you couldn’t have known. I’m sorry I gave you the impression I was like all those ungrateful idiots out there.”

Fox stared at her. Well, that was certainly one way of putting it. Apparently Ms.Blunt lived up to her name. He cleared his throat. “Now that that’s settled, would you mind explaining to me why you felt the need to do such a thing?”

Arissa started fiddling with a loose thread of her coveralls. A nervous tick. “I already told you in the note I sent with the package. My daughter thought the trooper who helped us didn’t believe we meant what we said. I was helping to make him see otherwise.”

A scoff escaped him. “Forgive my own cynicism then. I’m used to people having ulterior motives. It’s my job to find them.” He shrugged. “So, it’s a little hard to believe there wasn’t something else behind your actions, appreciated as they are.”

While he knew he was being something of a di’kut, Fox needed to know. He wasn’t lying. Any civilian he’d ever met had some sort of ulterior motive, most often to the detriment of his men.

She didn’t speak for a while, sitting there in quiet contemplation. Then, those violet orbs caught the gaze of his visor and held it. She wanted to get this right, he realized. She wanted him to believe her. “Maybe because men who didn’t have a choice in choosing this life deserve something good once in a while.”

Speechless, that’s what he was. She said it so plainly and without artifice. Fox knew she meant it, every word.

“I see,” he replied, voice quiet and low. “Well, allow me to express my gratitude and that of my men. It may not seem like much, but those sweets were the first gift any of those men have ever received. It might be the only one.”

“You’re very welcome, Commander Fox.” Her voice was quiet too, her eyes soft and understanding. How Fox wished he could get lost in them for more than just a few minutes. It was time to go. Now.

“You’ll excuse me then, Ms. Blunt, for taking up your time. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I’ll see myself out.” Fox made to do just that, not leaving her a chance to say anything in return. He was almost to the door when-----

“Commander, could I ask a favor?”

Fox stopped, then looked over his shoulder. Here it comes. “What is it?”

Arissa gulped, her nerves showing once more. Fox smirked. Already in such a short amount of time, Fox knew he’d enjoy setting her on edge on a regular basis. It was a shame their paths likely wouldn’t cross again.

“I know this may seem silly, but would you be willing to write a short note to my daughter? I know it’d mean the world to her to hear how much the troopers that helped us enjoyed the cookies.”

“Can’t you just tell her?”

“I could,” she allowed. “But she might think I’m lying. Sometimes she has a hard time believing things if she doesn’t have evidence. Finding out you came to tell me yourself just how much the gift was appreciated will be suspect without some kind of proof.”

“Is your daughter really that cynical?”

Arissa laughed, shaking her head. Fox had to admit she had a lovely laugh. Fett, he was going soft. “No, not cynical, commander. Just a child who needs encouragement that something is real when she’s had so many other disappointments.”

While Fox was curious as to what she meant by that statement, he didn’t ask. Honestly, what was the harm in writing the kid something? There was none. Besides, he was more than happy to do it.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.”

The smile she gave him made an answering one pull at his lips. Thankfully, his helmet hid the sight. Yeah, this was definitely not good.

------

“Mommy! You’re home!” Gemma squealed in happiness as Arissa stepped through the door. Arissa was barely inside before her five-year-old daughter wrapped her tiny arms around her torso and squeezed.

Arissa paused, soaking the moment in. A smile pulled at her lips while the hint of tears teased her eyes. This right here made everything worth it. The ridiculously long days. The demeaning remarks and catty behavior from her coworkers. This was her why, the reason she kept putting up with everything.

She wrapped her arms around Gemma and squeezed back. “Hello to you too, Gemma. Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” Gemma pulled back, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing in her excitement. “Did you miss me?”

Arissa chuckled, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Yes, sweetie.”

“Welcome home, Arissa. Long day?”

Arissa glanced up, making eye contact with the teenager lounging on the lumpy pale green couch in the apartment space that served as a living room. She barely withheld a grimace, thinking back over her day. “Just the usual, Trix.”

Although it really hadn’t been. Not when a certain unsettling clone commander decided to pop in and pay an unexpected visit. Gods, she’d thought for a moment there she’d done something wrong, that somehow the gift Gemma had practically begged her to make was illegal. Panic had filled Arissa, assuming the worst. But then he’d thanked her. Thanked her. Like a box of ginger spice cookies was the best gift his men had ever received. That wasn’t really too far off the mark, though, was it? And that black visor. When he’d held her gaze, Arissa had felt as if she were naked. She couldn’t remember anyone ever making her fell that way.��Definitely not something one wants to feel upon meeting a commanding officer of the GAR.

Shaking her head, Arissa focused back in on the present. “Did the two of you eat yet?”

Trix suddenly appeared uncomfortable, a look of guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah, we did. I, um, thought it’d be nice to treat Gemma to something. We went to Dex’s Diner and had the works. Saved some for you, too.”

While she knew why Trix might feel guilty, Arissa couldn’t fault the teenager for spending the money instead of eating the leftovers in the fridge. A year of being homeless and dodging traffickers and drug dealers had done a number on Trix. The kid’s useless father had abandoned her just days after her mother passed away. And the lower levels of Coruscant were not kind to the young and innocent. Arissa knew this fact quite well. Trix was finally getting back on her feet, working at a local bakery to make some money while attending school at night to finish her primary education. She lived in the third bedroom and watched Gemma when Arissa had to work late. And Trix positively adored her. So if Trix wanted to spoil Gemma with a night of burgers and shakes, Arissa wasn’t going to complain. She was far too grateful for the help to even think of chastising the teenager for splurging.

“That sounds like a lot of fun. Thanks for thinking of me,” She smiled at Trix, hoping the teenager understood she wasn’t mad. “I can’t remember the last time I had Dex’s. Is it as good as I remember?”

Gemma giggled. “Even better! Oh, and we got to meet Dex. Did you know he’s a besalisk? I’ve never seen one before. He answered all my questions, too. Didn’t act like I was a bother or anything.”

“Of course he wouldn’t. Because he realized right away what a bright and inquisitive mind you have, sweetie.” Arissa’s heart warmed at the kindness the diner owner had unknowingly extended her daughter. Gemma truly was inquisitive, wanting to know anything and everything. And amazingly she remembered it all. However, there were some people who found the girl’s nearly constant questions an annoyance and something to discourage. It was why she’d done so poorly in school until transferring into a private academy. Thank the maker for that scholarship. She bent over and lifted Gemma up, holding the young girl as she made her way to their small kitchen table. “Now spill. How was your day?”

Asking Gemma that question was all the kiddo needed to start regaling her mother with the events of the day. Arissa listened attentively as she went about putting her dinner together. She laughed when Gemma explained how a boy in her class had water come out of his nose during lunch and praised her when told how she’d received perfect marks on yesterday’s exam. Trix stayed with them for a while, interjecting comments here and there before retreating to her room to start on her school work. They wished the sixteen-year-old good night as mother and daughter both knew they likely wouldn’t see the teenager again until morning. Arissa was done with her dinner and working on a mostly thawed nerf milkshake by the time Gemma asked how her day went.

Arissa had thought long and hard how she wanted to present her surprise. She pulled the note from her back pocket and slid it across the table’s surface. “I had an unexpected visitor today. He asked me to give you this.”

Curious, Gemma carefully unfolded the note. Even at such a young age she handled everything with a great deal of care. Violet eyes scanned the note, then widened in shock. When Gemma finally looked back up she was smiling from ear to ear. “He wrote a note. He really wrote a thank you note!”

The smile breaking across Arissa’s face almost hurt. Seeing her daughter’s happiness at something so small was beyond precious. Mentally, she filed the image away to remember when the moody teenager years hit. “I was told not to read it. That it was top secret until your eyes saw what was inside. Think you could read it to me?”

Gemma nodded enthusiastically.

“It says: Dear Miss Gemma. Thank you for the lovely gift of ginger spiced cookies. I have shared your present with the troopers involved in the skirmish four rotations ago in the market. They were very surprised and grateful for your thoughtfulness. They rarely get a thank you for their work. Your mother tells me you are a bright student and love to learn new things. Did you know that members of the guard love uj cake? I highly recommend trying it. Please continue to do your part as a good and loyal citizen of the Republic.

Sincerely,

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard.”

The excitement radiating off of Gemma was contagious. She truly was happy from Commander Fox’s words. Arissa sent a silent thank you to the commander for taking the time to fulfil her request. Maybe she could find a way to let him know how much his note meant. But he must be very busy. Why would he care about any of this?

If he didn’t care, why would he bother in the first place? He could have said no.

“Do you think I could write a reply, mommy?” Gemma asked. “Maybe we could make them some uj cake since they like it so much and leave a note with it like before.”

That made Arissa pause. “Perhaps. But don’t you think the rest of the guard might get jealous when only a few of them get to have some?”

Gemma’s brow furrowed as she contemplated that possibility. “I guess you’re right. I know I wouldn’t like it if only a few of my classmates kept getting something and I didn’t.” Then her face brightened. “Maybe we could make some for everyone! That way no one felt left out. Oh but,” Gemma frowned as she realized something. “That wouldn’t work either. There’s so many of them, aren't there?”

Arissa hmmed, feeling her heart squeeze with regret as her daughter’s face fell. For someone so young, she truly had a compassionate and giving nature. She wanted everyone to be happy. “I’m not sure how many there are, but yes, there are a lot of men in the guard. Far too many for us to make enough for everyone. I’m sorry sweetie.”

The evening wore on, the hours passing as the world outside transitioned from day to night. Despite her disappointment, Gemma managed to recover. They played a few games, took care of Gemma’s bath, and cuddled on the couch to watch a silly holomovie before Arissa announced it was time for bed. Arissa read a story of her daughter’s choosing, sang her a song, and kissed her good night. Once Arissa left the room, she’d make a cup of tea and curl up on the couch with a book, losing herself in the passionate romance of her current novel before heading to bed as well. It was like so many other night’s, this ritual their evenings had become. But tonight would be different.

“Mommy?”

Arissa paused, turning back to face her daughter. Only the top of her head and her eyes were visible above the fuzzy purple comforter she’d cocooned into. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Will you please tell Commander Fox thank you for writing me that note? I really did like it. And I think he’d like to know that, too.”

The breath whooshed out of Arissa’s lungs. She hadn’t expected this. But how could she refuse? “Of course, Gemma. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Now, get some sleep. You have a big day at school in the morning.”

“Can you make rainbow berry pancakes for breakfast?”

Arissa couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, Gemma’s tone was just too hopeful. “I think I can manage that. Now, sleep little one.”

Gemma giggled, happy at her mother’s answer. “Okay, okay. Good night, Mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Gemma.”

Arissa closed the door and made her way to the kitchen. She tinkered around the small space, getting things ready for the morning while her tea water boiled, then steeped. Once finished, she grabbed the old and worn romance novel off her caf table, the flimsi pages yellowed with age. She happily made herself comfortable on the couch as she dove into the world of high passion…..

Five minutes later, Arissa was back in the kitchen, a notepad open to a clean page while her holopad came to life. She scrubbed a hand over her face, sighing. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” As soon as the piece of technology was up and running, she began bringing up Republic military records, trying to get an accurate head count of how many men filled the ranks of the Coruscant Guard.

------

Now, while Arissa was toiling away at the kitchen table trying to work out a plan to fulfill her daughter’s wish, said daughter was busy working on another matter instead of sleeping.

Gemma waited for her holopad to boot up, reading the note from Commander Fox almost obsessively. She’d never thought in a million years her mother would come home with any kind of news about the gift she’d begged her to make. Instead, she’d brought home a note. A note! Gemma very quietly giggled, pressing her face into her pillow to better muffle the noise. She was in the next star system from how happy that little piece of flimsi had made her. The five-year-old sent a desperate plea to the gods, asking them for the chance to meet this Commander Fox. Yes, she’d asked her mom to thank him, but she wanted the chance to tell him herself how much his note meant to her. And she wanted to show him just how much she could learn when she set her mind to it.

Finally the holopad came on and Gemma brought up a search engine. Adults were always so surprised when they saw how well she could navigate tech at her age. For whatever reason, it was astonishing. Gemma didn’t pretend to understand why. Carefully, she typed in uj cake, then hit search. She skimmed over a promising article. It did sound rather yummy. Perhaps she could convince her mom to help her make some after school tomorrow and she could share it with the class. The kids would probably like that. Maybe it’d help her make a few friends.

The article said the recipe came from Mandalore. Intrigued, Gemma decided to search the planet, not knowing what she was getting herself into. What she read fascinated her. Hours went by and Gemma refused to sleep, far too invested in learning more about this old creed of warriors. She had only nodded off when her mother came to wake her, far earlier than usual.

Gemma’s groggy eyes met her mother’s. “What is it, mommy? Is something wrong?”

Arissa shook her head, a hint of mischief lighting her eyes. “No, sweetie. I just needed your help with something. How would you like to help me make some uj cake this morning? I think a certain clone commander would appreciate it.”

It took a moment for Gemma’s sleepy brain to understand exactly what her mother was saying. When she did, she shot out of bed so fast she almost knocked her mother over. Excitement took care of the exhaustion she’d felt just moments ago.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, then dashed out the door to the kitchen, her mother’s laughter following after her.

What neither realized then was how their actions that morning would come to shape the rest of their lives.....and those throughout the galaxy.

#commander fox #commander fox x original character #original female character #clone x ofc #I am so freaking excited this is finally up and going

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jlf23tumble · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I've seen you rec fics before and I'm wondering if you have any recommendations for Harry Styles fics that deal with gender. Like Harry being either nonbinary or that being the focus of the plot in some way. Thanks!

I have GOT YOU, my friend! I answered a similar ask a long time ago, so I’ll bring those recs over, plus add newer ones, just to keep us up to date. Same caveat as before, though--these fics delve a bit deeper into the genderfluid side of the fine line rather than just the “harry in panties” side because I think you’re more interested in the former, but if I’m wrong, let me know! Enjoy!

Us, Me, We, @homosociallyyours, 2.3 (Harry/Harry, Harry/Louis). Featuring Harry trippin’ balls and truly seeing “her” in the mirror.

you make me wanna (how deep is your love), orphan_account, 2.5k (harry/louis). As the notes say, “straight up porn,” featuring trans Harry.

Friendly Fire, @vondrostes, 2.6k (Harry/Ny). Look, you’ll see a lot of Terran here, I had to hold *back*, but he writes tons of pairings, so there’s something for everyone, and I rec it all! In this case, Harry learns an important lesson about why he shouldn’t date straight women.

No Control, thegirlwthekittentattoo, 2.6k (Harry/Louis). The dialogue here is EVERYTHING, it’s cute and hot and emotional yet still funny, like Harry’s bra being named Christi with an “i”, and I loveeee how much is packed in here.

Silent Night, @sulkingroom, 2.7k (Harry/Xander). I’m 99% sure this is Melissa, not orphan_account, but she’s another author who writes stunning fics that play with gender, this one featuring trans Harry at Christmas.

She, Myself, and I, @vondrostes, 3k (Harry/Nick). Angst city, with Harry telling Nick exactly who “she” is.

Every Drop of Rain, haemophilus, 3.3k (Harry/Taylor). Told through Taylor’s eyes, a fascinating look at Harry and his gender journey. (I highly rec this author’s work in other pairings for similar vibes!)

if they find out, will it all go wrong? blankiexrry, 3.4k (Harry/Louis). Gender exploration behind the scenes when the D played MSG, plus extra kink added!

The Assassination of Harry Styles’ Dignity, wishforwishes, 3.5k (Harry/Nick). This one was in the pubefest, and it’s gryles angst hours gorgeously done as Harry ponders shaving past and present (highly rec this author for gender exploration in other pairings, too).

She Feels So Good, Zedi, 4k, and its sequel, Turns Out She’s a Devil In-Between the Sheets, 3k (Harry/Louis). Mannnn, this universe is so good! Part one is behind the scenes of the Late Late Show after Kiwi, and part two is sexi times in Italy. I utterly adore how this Harry shifts right along with her pronouns.

Fertile Ground, Blake/ @newleafover, 4.4k (Harry/Louis). Jesus wept specifically at this story, CHRIST, so much dysphoria-related angst!! The sheer number of moments guaranteed to make you stare at the wall for one (1) hour, help!

into joy i’m sailing, @hereforlou, 4.6k (Harry/Louis). The tenderness LEAPS off the screen in this one, Harry forgets he’s wearing a dress when Louis comes over for dinner, and I peel my heart out of my throat every time.

weird honey, orphan_account, 5.4k (Harry/Louis). I’m a big lurker in fic comments, and these ones give me joy because big names from a time when this Harry drew even more hate than today are here, spreading love and support--who was this author? This story is so GOOD, I’d love to know what else they did! (In this case, a sex toy helps Harry deal with not having a vagina.)

violence of my own touch, 14hrflight/ @got2ghost, 5.2k (Harry/Louis). Chi is yet ANOTHER author to read for spot-fuckin’-on genderfluid characterization (here, it’s alpha/alpha with all kinds of bdsm, dysphoria, angst, and more).

it’s you i want to take apart, orphan_account, 5.9k (Harry/Louis). This author--in the year of our lorde 2012--watched the nail polish interview and created a work of art that went even deeper, their MIND!!! What else did they foretell??!!!!!

Love at Home, @vondrostes, 6.9k (Harry/Xander, Harry/Zayn/Xander). This fic is HYPER-current, like, mid-quarantine, and it features some Zarry history, some pregnancy-related dysphoria, and so much more, plus horses!! (The horses aren’t actually all that involved, I just love to see ‘em.)

Vinyl and Lace, objectlesson/ @alienfuckeronmain, 7.5k (Harry/Louis). This one kills me because it’s XF days, and you get the full-on sensation that this is meant to be kinky play funtime, but it’s going to end up being something much bigger on so many fronts, we love to see it!

Are You Gonna Be My Girl? LoadedGunn, 7.5k (Harry/Louis). EASILY my fave fic this author wrote, basically, Louis talks about his first time with a girl, Harry decides to be that girl, and the dirty talk hits different in the end!

call me anything you like, but my name is, wishforwishes, 9.9k (Harry/members of CHASM). [muffled internal screaming whenever I think of this fic] It starts with BSE Veronica/Zayn and ends with Harry Veronica/Zayn, and so much revelation happens in between, goddddd bless.

fallin’ and laughin’ at the drinks we spilled, enbyharry/ @non-binharry, 14k (Harry/Louis). Asia’s description in the notes kills me, but #vanlife Louis runs into proud Harry in some bar and shenanigans ensue is the upshot!

But She Doesn’t Know Who I Am series, jaerie, 15k (Harry/Louis). I love that one of the tags here is “louis asks inappropriate questions” because that’s honestly most of what happens!!

o/o angst series, HappyPrincess/ @pattern-pals, 17k (Harry/Louis). I miss Nina’s writing like a phantom limb, and I doubt they’ll return to this universe, but I swear, I will read (and rec) ANYTHING they produce when the muse visits them again! This one is as its title says, and it doesn’t disappoint, heavy sigh.

Grenadine Sunshine, objectlesson/ @alienfuckeronmain, 18k (Harry/Louis). This fic is a peach of a pearl written as a gift for one of this fandom’s best authors, and it perfectly captures the Mood of that author, with so much softness, makeup, gender, and tender.

Alpha Louis/Alpha Harry series, 14hrflight/ @got2ghost, 22k (Harry/Louis). SO MANY GENDER ISSUES EXPLORED HERE, WOW!! College roommates come to terms with their identity, and, mannnnn, do I love it when a/b/o gets unstraightened, if you will, chef’s kiss all around.

Nothing You Can Do (But You Can Learn How to Be You in Time), Teumessian, 28k (Harry/Louis). Also known as the pinterest fic, this one is just so soft and lovely, an identity story told through hair (among other things).

genderfluid!harry series, istajmaal, 33k (Harry/Louis). This entire series hits just as hard today as it did when it was written in 2013, a time when people were aggressively trying to make fetch frat boy Harry happen (some of ‘em still are, lmao). Anyway, this is another author I highly rec for all their other fic, but this one does an A+ job of describing Harry’s gender exploration mid-D madness.

Amor Victorious, HappyPrincess/ @pattern-pals, 38k (Harry/Louis). Another brilliant work from Nina, you feel like you’re on this journey with them, PLUS it dives deep into gender identity struggles, PLUS it throws a/b/o for a loop, all of which equals a big yes from me!

hush., wankerville, 41k (Harry/Louis). One of my all-time faves, this one tackles so many phobias, all while being set in a small-town America high school AU and managing to be the softest, most gorgeous, most hopeful thing in spite (because?) of that.

Time Passed, coffinofachimera/ @belialsmiracles, 66k (Harry/Louis). LISTEN, I WILL NEVER, EVER SHUT UP ABOUT THIS FIC, I can only hope the author will bless us with a timestamp or something else entirely, it’s so beautifully done, it makes you think of nothing else for days, it RUINS you for other fic (I highly rec the author’s other work, too). You’ll never look at Tokyo Harry the same way again (or listen to “She” or “Fine Line” without getting more than a little misty). GOLD STAR!

Made of Lightning, @vondrostes, 74k (Harry/Louis, Harry/Liam, Harry/Louis/Liam). Just...the tags on this don’t do full justice to the journey of it, to the imagination of this specific timeline! I adore how Terran writes trans Harry!

Second Spring, @vondrostes, 103k (Harry/Louis). Speaking of Terran writing trans Harry, this one covers all the ins and outs of her surgical transition, how she recovers, and how she and the people around her deal with puberty no. 2.

#fic rec #gender #harry styles #whew it's a long one!!

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herstarburststories · 5 years ago

Text

Brutal (Dean Winchester x Reader)

✾ A/N: More Dean x reader content, but angst this time! Reposting because I had to edit a few things. Gif's credits on it. Based on the song ‘from the dining table’.

✾ Summary: Unlike her boyfriend, Dean Winchester, the reader wasn’t raised as a hunter. At first, it seems like a hard but worth it job. Unfortunately, you didn't have in mind how brutal all of it could get.

✾ Words: 3k.

"YOU ARE NOT YOURSELF ANYMORE, DEAN!"

The discussion over a delicate subject at the dining table was blossoming into something bigger. (Y/N) was on her feet, shouting at her boyfriend with a shaking voice; a manner that was very uncommon. You were used to Dean being stubborn, and you were not behind him in this aspect which caused a few disagreements here and there. That certain argument, though, was definitive in every meaning of the word.

"I HAVE ALWAYS MADE IT FUCKING CLEAR WHAT THIS LIFE WAS, (Y/N)!" Dean snapped back, anger dripping from his words like venom. He was hurt. How could you say that he was becoming a cold-hearted person? You, of all people. "IF I DON'T KILL IT, IT KILLS ME! THIS ISN'T AN APPLE PIE LIFE, AND YOU KNEW IT WHEN YOU DECIDED TO STAY HERE!"

"I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT VAMPIRES OR POLTERGEISTS OR WENDIGOS, DEAN! FUCK!" Your usual efficiency with words was starting to tangle with desperation. Dean didn't even see the problem, for God's shake. How could you keep this up? "I'M TALKING ABOUT THE PEOPLE! I SAW YOU KILL FIVE POSSESSED PEOPLE TODAY!"

"DEMONS!" He groaned and slapped the table. You jumped in surprise, making him regret getting out of control and coaxing a softer, calmer tone from his mouth. "I killed demons, not people."

"The demons were possessing them, and you killed them off without any regret. You didn't even take a minute to consider other options."

"What other options?" he questioned, obviously upset. What the hell were you doing? Becoming the devil's advocate all of sudden?

"Using the demon-killing knife to stab a non-vital part of their bodies? Maybe an exorcism?"

"None of those options would end the problem permanently. Do you have any idea how many sons of a bitch came back from hell to get Sam and me? It's them or us, (Y/N). And I will always choose us." Dean was aware that you weren't raised in this life like him and Sam, but this conversation was becoming frustrating and confusing. You were training to be like them. You went to hunts with them. You... You supported him. At least, you did last time he checked. "The human is long gone when they get possessed. Dying is the best thing that could happen to them after that."

You were supposed to be an easy case that turned out to be more complicated than previously expected, what meant both of them staying a little longer in the city, you catching feelings for Dean and vice-versa. After all you had seen, you knew that normal life was a long lost memory that you didn't wish to visit, leave alone live in. Hauntings, traveling across the country, having no banal responsibilities-- that seemed like the kind of dangerous fun you had been looking for your whole life. Then, you came with them. Killing things had never bothered you-- they weren't actually alive, for starts. Until you saw how cold Dean looked when he killed off possessed people-- the humans that were still in there somehow. And he kept doing it as if it were the only option. Of course, this job and violence walked side by side, but not unnecessary lethal choices. Dean certainly shared his portion of brutality, which wasn't tiny, but you would never picture your boyfriend as uncaring. Not until you watched five bodies piled up together, burning. What about the chance that those people should have gotten?

"Are you even listening to yourself, Dean? What if Sam had thought like that when you became a demon!?" Apprehensive, you tried to make him understand what was wrong.

Dean clenched his jaw before his answer came out, "Those are two different things, (Y/N). You know that."

"I..." You flinched, taking a deep breath and letting it out. You shut your eyes before opening them with a determinate glare, locking your gaze with his green one. "I can't. I said I would stand by you through anything, but I can't let this slide. Not like this."

"Because I killed a few demons?" The older Winchester grinned wryly. He was furious, scared by the possibility of you leaving him, and injured by your words. What else could a wounded animal do besides attacking? "I survived, (Y/N). I've killed many others, and I'm not fucking sorry for it. They had it coming. You knew that was my life, and you chose it. What are you going to do now? Play the coward? It's a dirty, fucked up job, but someone has to do it, and you knew that."

Offering a sad smile, you walked towards him and lifted your hand to claim his cheek only for him to pull away from you. Your heart ached, but you needed to do that. Stick to your morals and beliefs.

"I love you." And you did, you truly did. Unfortunately, blood was as normal as water in his mouth, and you couldn't help but remain nauseous after what you tasted. "But there is a better way. Maybe not perfect, but another decision. And if you can't see that, if you can't see why I find it wrong to just rush around with the knife in every situation--" Your voice almost broke. "Goodbye, Dean."

You turned around, passing away from the man you loved before another speech stopped you.

"I bet you regret leaving your home to run away with me now."

You didn't take two seconds to reply, and you desired that he could understand how hard it was for you too. "I would never regret you."

No ray of sunshine licked Dean's face to wake him up. Fortunately for the Winchesters' disorganized sleeping routine, the bunker prevented the sun from invading the window-- a perk of living almost under the land in a bunker.

Instead of a normal reason to emerge from his rest, Dean's eyes fluttered open from an annoying migraine. Perhaps he went a little too hard on the alcohol yesterday, but that was the last thing that mattered. Besides, even if it was an abnormal sensation, he wouldn't trade it for sake of 'drinking like a normal human being', as (Y/N) had teased him so many times before.

(Y/N).

It took two seconds after recovering consciousness to think about you.

“Where are you?” he said in a whisper, playing with himself to the silent walls. Dean laughed with his own brand of self-deprecation-- a learned cruelty to dilute the tug of his emotions before the eldest Winchester had to get up. He knew exactly where you resided and why you were there. He decided against feeding his masochism for once, not glancing at your side of the bed.

To face the light fixtures above him only made his current situation more depressing, just like the hints of paint that (Y/N) had once thrown there. Dean Winchester knew pain like no other; hell, purgatory, an emptied childhood, watching his mother seal a deal with a demon, living with the fact his father had gone to hell to save him, being right in front of Sammy when he died, all the bloody deaths he’d lived through again and again-- the list would go on. He could probably drown in an ocean of his deceased loved ones’ blood and swim there for hours until he reached its edge.

Most of the time, the life of a hunter was synonymous with tragedy.

Therefore, Dean was very experienced when it came to suffering. He even shared a last name with a rifle, for God’s sake. Destruction was stained in his bones. This time, it was a different kind of torment.

His heart had been broken before, sure. He wasn’t in his early twenties, neither was he a saint. Dean was aware that a break in relationships could be devastating.

But again, this time, it was different. (Y/N) had not only broke his heart. You ripped it out and threw it in the trash as you walked out the door without looking back. His trust was in your pockets, and the beliefs clinging to the divine sensation of your touch that left with you.

Dean Winchester was hopeless. Deciding not to mourn for a bit, he closed his eyes from the melancholy. It wasn't a hard job to fall asleep once more. People in his job were always heavy-eyed.

Forty minutes passed by the clock until the Winchester roused again. This moment felt missing without you snuggling up to him or kissing his neck between foolish giggles or even pushing him out of bed when you felt like playing the prankster.

There was no valid reason to remain where he was, glaring at a stupid ceiling that held nothing but an old light you installed together and memories. The yellow and blue paints still held firm where you’d spattered them, jumping in the bed together with your hands drenched in the colors from a gouache paint container just because you’d found the tins somewhere in the bunker. You and Dean became a tangled mess of greens, dirty with paint and kissing. How many sexual encounters happened here, he thought, glaring at this ceiling that looked like three-year-old Sammy’s art project.

The green-eyed man never thought he would feel nostalgic about a stupid ceiling. He had to get out of that room.

Finally raising from the mattress, Dean yawned as he padded towards the kitchen. He didn't mind checking what time it was, knowing he needed an alcoholic getaway. The Winchester sat down, sharing a bottle of Whiskey with his shadow. How distracting it was to make his throat burn when an unpleasant thought attempted to take control of his head.

If he had dared to look through the room, Dean would have noticed the clock's arrow pointing at 10:50 am.

By noon he was already drunk, which took a lot of effort since his tolerance to drinks was a bar high set. Dean groaned, displeased. The buzzy feeling of befuddlement hitting him certainly helped, but he could still affirm that he had never felt less cool. His body was starving for something that wasn't there anymore. Dean's feelings were all over the place, and he didn't have the energy to pick them up at this point.

"I can't believe you are drinking already." Sam sighed, making himself known by Dean in the kitchen. In response, all he got was his brother holding the glass up and drinking all of its bronze liquid. "It's barely noon, Dean. You-- Wait. Are you drunk?"

"Don't start, Sam." He groaned, holding his own cheeks with fingers as his hands slid down to his chin. The gesture was a habit of Dean's when he was fed up with something.

The younger one offered him an indignant glare, which was soon replaced by empathy and sorrow as he watched Dean. His brother was broken. (Y/N) running away from them had really taken him down. Part of Sam was hurt as well-- after all, you were his friend and confidant. But, in all ruthless honesty, he couldn't speak out and point fingers at you on that. Not about the whole situation, at all.

Yet, if Sam was feeling abandoned by his friend, he could only imagine what Dean would be experiencing. You had been a hint of happiness in the middle of misery and combat for Dean. It had been so long since Sammy saw his brother like that, so very long. Suddenly, it disappeared like smoke. And the worst part was that he understood your side. Deep down, the long-haired man knew Dean did, too.

Trying to knock sense back into his brother, or at least a bit of normality, Sam spoke, "You can go out and buy some whiskey. Your bottle was the last one."

"Yeah, right." His voice was impassive, almost serious for such casual conversation. He got up, going to the table to grab Baby's keys.

"Hey, Dean..." Dean turned around to face his brother. Sam’s expression was cautious, voice soft when he continued: "If you want to talk about it, I'm here. It could help."

"I'm pretty sure you heard the screaming yesterday, Sam," Dean replied dryly, an unsettlingly wry smile surfacing. His walls were up. It was an old defense mechanism. "There is nothing to talk about. She left. The sooner we can accept it, the sooner we can move on."

"Move on? You want to move on?" he questioned suspiciously, eyebrows arching to match his inquiry.

Dean didn't answer. He only picked up the keys.

"Dean--"

"Yeah, I think we are out of eggs, too," Dean interrupted. He didn't need to talk about it. Not now. "Whiskey and eggs, got it."

Any other remarks from Sam were ignored as he walked through the door, trotting in direction of his beloved Impala. An old song on one of his cassettes was the soundtrack to his five-minute ride to the nearest store.

Dean went searching for eggs and whiskey, adding a lemon pie that smelled better than himself-- not that it was difficult considering he hadn’t showered since yesterday. The store’s cashier swiped his credit card and offered a polite farewell that was replied with a nod. Everything seemed so normal in the most boring ways.

In the parking lot, a familiar face appeared for the first time in a year. It was Thomas-- a hunter that Dean, you, and Sam had come across during a job in New Mexico.

"Winchester!" The blue-eyed man smiled, making the scar near his lips more evident. Being thrown out of a window left marks sometimes. "It's been too long, dude."

"Cavill." His lips curved into a small smile as he greeted his friend. Laying his green eyes on him, Dean couldn't avoid noticing a familiar shirt. Fuck, he must be hallucinating or thinking too hard about foolish subjects. "Where have you been?"

"Burning bones, decapitating vamps. Same old, same old." Thomas waved his hand, banalizing the supernatural routine as if it were nothing but another Sunday. For them, this was true. "I saw (Y/N) yesterday. She seemed fine. Separate hunts to take different cases?"

His blood burned through an emotional fever in realization. It felt like the boil was intense enough to melt his bones if he remained in front of the other men for too long. Thomas had never been subtle about finding you attractive, and neither was his constant flirting when your cases collided. It didn't help that you and Dean weren't together back then, even though the tension was obvious for anyone. The Winchester gripped his grocery plastic bag harder, offering him a sarcastic smirk.

"Something like that." He reached the car door and pulled out his keys. The familiar red flannel, your meeting with him-- it was so obvious it was basically written all over his face, and sadly, Dean could read it well. Fuck, he wanted to drop his purchases and punch that smile off Thomas’ face. That man probably had more of what was once his. “Gotta go. See you around.”

Sliding in the car to leave this conversation before his treacherous mind could reach more detestable conclusions, Cavill answered, "If you need help, give me a call.''

Dean mumbled something but didn't care enough to give him anything beyond a nod while the Impala finally drove away from Thomas.

At that moment, he wished a bit harder that Ellen was still alive or that another bar like hers existed. The hunters’ bar was full of people who understood that death was a part of the job. Somewhere he could swallow barrels of alcohol, play darts and tell bloody stories about his world-- about the quintessential things he did to get despair out of his system to the point that he felt comfortable on his own skin again.

So, that was it? You didn't just leave him and Sam, but you also accused him with all certainty you had of being a cold killer, and then you slept with the first man who showed up? Who was also a fucking hunter? Why the fuck didn't you tell him how you felt sooner? He wasn't an angel-- he would be even more of an arrogant asshole than he already was if that was the case, but you knew it all along. He didn't deserve anything good in his life. He should've seen it coming.

Dean pursed his lips, deciding for another ride to a normal bar. Home and all the beautiful, tragic ghosts inside could haunt him later.

It didn't take him long to park near an establishment. For once, he noticed the strong grip he held on the steering wheel, knuckles strained whiter than usual. He let out a tired sigh, glaring at the entrance of the place before grabbing his phone.

No calls from you. No text messages from you. Just the feeling of being a thirteen-year-old boy again, just like when he was waiting for Mary to send him a sign that she was all right.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dean put it back in his pocket and made his way to the bar. No 'welcome' board light was shining yet, and he doubts anyone but he and the owner would be there. Once he got in, two guys were sitting in a table far away, and a girl was entering the bathroom. The bartender stood behind the bar, watching some game on the small television the place provided.

"Whiskey. No ice." His words came out harsher than he expected. The guy didn't seem to notice or care, simply nodding his head and turning around go get his client's order. One more time, Dean took his phone and stared at it. There was nothing but a text from Sammy that he quickly replied to, frowning in disappointment. It was rare for you to be the first one to break after a fight, but that was more than a stupid argument. You had left. You had fucking left. And he was the only one to blame.

Such a miserable routine kept its course. Dean would drink, check his phone, and hurt himself with his own thoughts. The night came with lurking shadows, and he couldn't care less. It seemed like the ghosts had replaced the bunker for his company. He didn't want to believe you would come back because hoping and being destroyed again was too much to bear with right now. Dean couldn't even breathe properly at the thought that he would never, ever see touch you, tease you, or be with you again. You had him wrapped around your finger since the very first day until you cut your hand off and left him. You left. How could you have left? But then, how could you had stayed if you had it all in your mind before?

Someone sat beside him. Still, it didn't catch the Winchester's attention until he heard her voice. For a flash of a second, he thought it was you. Dean looked up instantly, only to find himself incredulous.

The woman in front of him looked so much like you. She could easily be mistaken for your sister. Hair, eyes, voice. Everything but the lips were so similar. The unknown girl kept her gaze on Dean despite his strange reaction to her. Repeating her former words, she asked, "What are you drinking? Seems good."

Yeah, she wasn't (Y/N). You could tell what he was drinking from miles away, just because you knew exactly what he enjoyed. In addition, you’d seen his preferences so much that you’d memorized it all without even trying.

She looked like you, though. A lot. The earlier jealousy mixed with a dangerous quantity of alcohol and anguish made his decision. Move on, just like he told Sam. You didn't call him. You weren't coming back. That was your choice. He had to shut up the little hopes in his mind.

Putting up his best sultry smirk, Dean pushed the glass on the table towards her as he answered: "You tell me."

Two hours later, he was tilting his head to the side, watching the woman in his sheets peacefully taking a nap after a long run. Her hand covered most of her face, pillow carpeted with her messy hair.

"Wake up, (Y--)" Dean restrained himself from finishing that sentence. He almost said your name. It was hard enough to keep the woman's name, which he had forgotten by now, on his tongue during sex-- he wasn't going to give in at the end of it. Clearing his throat, the hunter started waking her up again. He needed to go.

In any other point of his life, he would've considered that night a success. A hot girl was sleeping beside him after he had a great amount of old whiskey. Sammy sent a text about a new case, and he had pie waiting for him in the car. At any other moment, that would be enough to put him in a good mood all day. In any other age, that would be considered a good day. No one died, he had sex and food and was about to hunt a thing and blow whatever it was up.

But you hadn't called.

It was probably a good thing in a messed up way. It was tranquil. There was no arguing, no fighting, no hurting from either side. That kind of hurt was quite similar to being comfortable, in a tremendously distorted way that he didn't wish to feel, like not putting medicine on the wound and just allowing it to heal by itself-- yet, occasionally scratching it. The idea of a comfortable silence was so overrated. Dean would rather be screamed at by (Y/N) by now than whatever this option was.

The woman woke up and left a note with her phone as she abandoned the room. Crumbling the paper, he threw it away and touched his face. A deep breath was taken.

He had work to do.

Maybe one day you'll call me

and tell me that you’re sorry too

But you never do

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mindbittercoffee · 4 years ago

Text

::Session 16:: Somniphobia Pt II

[200727 21:15]

YOU HAVE 1 HOUR TO COMPLETE THIS SESSION STARTING...NOW

“Have you been waiting long?”

Looking up at the sound of their voice, the Shadow shakes its head softly in response. “No. Maybe an hour? But I needed the time, I think. To collect my thoughts.”

Darkness gives a short nod before folding their arms and leaning against a wall off to the side of the Shadow as it sits on a table, back against the stone. Its eyes look so far away, its body trembling with fear and exhaustion. Scorch marks scar the rock and wood behind it like angry black wings, and the dark being forces the worry in their chest down at the sight of the frail creature. Yeah, Shadow, you’re fine. That's why it feels like you are putting all your strength into lifting your head up, hm?

“What did you need to talk to me about, Dark?” it speaks softly, “It’s been a long day and I should get some sleep soon. I'm sorry I was not able to meet you before now. ”

"We both know you're not sleeping; even if you leave here you won't sleep. What I'm not understanding is you have been given a platform to talk about things and you refuse to use it. You can hide away from the entire world and speak about all that troubles you - but you choose avoidance in both realities. Who is going to judge you here, Shadow? Yourself? Isn't that the point? Isn't that why I'm here?" Dark sighs almost breathlessly, biting back the urge to say more - to get angry. Now is not the time.

The Shadow's reaction is less than normal, lightly tapping its fingers on the wooden tabletop. "You expect a lot, Dark. Especially for someone who knows me - was created from me. You've been here my whole life but expect me to actually be responsible, trustworthy, or to make sense." It's laugh is humourless. "When it comes to what's going on in my head you think you would be the first to know but the mind gives us the option to hide from ourselves and so I do. "

The darkness turns their shoulder into the wall, nonchalantly crossing their ankles at the same time as their arms. "How inconvenient the mind is when it comes to self preservation apparently." They regard the Shadow with a look somewhere between ache and agitation.

"Dark, just tell me what it is you have to say and I'll make an appointment for tomorrow to do a longer session with you. I know the conversation you want me to have right now - and you'll have it. I'm too tired to run; I may even sleep in the coffee shop for a couple days and just go on autopilot for a bit. But tonight I'm just too tired."

The Shadow's head does not even lift at the sound of, a low growl emitting from the dark being. Does not move as the rough noise shifts to an exasperated sigh; instead choosing to stare at its lap. It continues to stay still even as the darkness approaches the table and places a hand on either side of it's legs on the wood.

"It's about your health."

"Hm?"

"You can lock me out of your thoughts but you can't stop me from keeping tabs on your physical system." The darkness leans in, trying to coax the shadow to make eye contact but it does nothing, "Shadow, did you know you were almost running a fever the other night?"

The Shadow's shoulders drop at this and It mumbles something about 'not infected' but Dark ignores it. "Your headaches are increasing in length and intensity, you aren't breathing properly, your heartbeat is erratic. Weakness, pain, throat hoarse. God damnit, Shadow, some of your organs are fucking screaming at you and you're ignoring it."

"You act like I don't feel all this." Scoffs the smaller creature, finally finding the strength to level its gaze at the darkness in front of it. "Sure, I didn't know about the fever but th-"

Darkness rolls their eyes, "Yeah because having a fever is no big deal. Normal." They push lightly off the table, stepping back and folding their arms in a display of dominance as they look down on the shadow. "Trouble with memory, loss of time, paranoia, nightmares, hmm why does this all sound familiar?"

This time it is Shadow that rolls its eyes, huffing out a breath as it leans its head back on the wall. "You make it sound like I'm falling apart, Dark. It's not that serious."

"Not that- what? Not that serious? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Like you said, we've been through this before."

Darkness laughs bitterly, clicking its tongue before framing their chin with one hand in a sarcastic 'thinking' pose. "And how did that go again? You completely withdrew into yourself. Obviously you weren't sleeping already: but then you stopped eating, drinking, and started being unable to recall things and then...Oh yeah!" They snap their fingers. "You blacked out and woke up on the floor - TWICE in one week."

"I WAS FINE!" the Shadow shoves itself off the table to square up with the darkness; glaring with tired eyes up into the cold stare of the taller. "I was just exhausted from work."

Dark growls, "Sure whatever helps you sleep at night. Oh wait.." then smirks.

"You know what, this conversation is over. I don't have to take this from you. You wouldn't even exist without me."

"Oof, what a low blow. How will I ever recover from that?"

"Go fuck yourself, Dark."

"Ouch." They feign a hurt look, "You are ridiculous. Here you are killing yourself slowly and you won't even admit to it." They laugh coldly, "but, sure. Log off. Be the coward everyone thinks you are, expects you to be, instead of facing this head on."

Shadow shoves the dark being in front of it with the little energy it has; barely causing them to teeter. It tries again but makes even less progress so instead pushes past them towards the door. Unshed tears cling to its lids. "I hate you..."

Dark sighs, doing nothing to stop it. "Self-hate isn't anything new to us, Shadow. But we have to get better in order to survive. We need to get past this."

Stopping in front of the door, the smaller creature stares at its feet. So many emotions swirl and tumble within its worn body. It knows the darkness is right; but pride stops it from voicing it.

"Tomorrow."

The door behind the Dark closes, signaling the smaller's departure. They are left alone to stand in front of the table, staring up at the deep scorch from the fire - wondering how long this scar will last.

"Tomorrow."

- END SESSION

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bedbellyandbeyond · 5 years ago

Photo

Emotions

Ruben didn't leave Dante's room for anything else but dinner and the restroom. It had been two days already and Dante hadn't woken up. Köbi had healed his wounds, but dark scars were still left over his body. They didn't mangle his skin, it was more of a pigment change, like a tattoo. Ruben was assured that he wasn't in too much pain, his body was just taking it's time recovering. A surprising side effect of the ritual was that Dante's hair had grown out incredibly faster than normal. Köbi had said it was part of the healing, bodily processes had been sped up to heal him faster. What was unusual was that while Dante dyed his hair, the new hair was coming in entirely white. When Ruben asked about it, Sydryn said it was likely that the trauma had whitened his hair. He'd also attained two months worth of beard in two days.

“If his body keeps doing this so fast, won't he run out of energy and stuff?” Ruben asked as Sydryn came in to check on Dante's monitors. “The process has already slowed,” Sydryn said. “It's the main reason he's still asleep. He sleeps now to regain that energy.” “Okay…” Ruben he stood beside Dante's bed and put a hand through his hair. “So, it's just sleep, right? Not a coma?” “No… If we really needed to, we could wake him,” Sydryn explained. “He just really needs the rest so it's best to let him wake himself. But when he does wake up, he may not stay awake too long.” Ruben nodded. “Will the scars go away?” Sydryn sighed. “They may not… They could fade perhaps but they're not like your typical scar… They were created by the blood of demon. It's safe to assume they're permanent.” “Oh…” “Do you find it unappealing?” “No, no… If they're not hurting him…” Ruben rubbed the back of his neck. “They're kind of cool… I could get some kind of tattoo maybe. To match.” “Mmhm…” Sydryn looked at Ruben. “Could you do me a favour?” “What?” “Would you mind walking my dogs for me?” “Oh. Um…” Ruben looked down at Dante but it was obvious he wasn't waking any time soon. “Sure…” “You can take them down to the courtyard,” Sydryn explained. “You don’t have to scoop. Their excrements are very good for the flora.” “Good to know.” “They don’t have leads. They know where to go. Once you’re out of the elevator, just follow them until they tire themselves. And do not visit the other floors.” “Right…” Ruben scratched his elbow. “It’s Rozovyy…” “Rozovyy, Arbuz, and Fandango. Just call them. They’ll come. I trust them to you.” Sydryn smiled. “I know you’re a dog lover.” Ruben pulled a face but left and whistled for the alien pets. All three night dogs bounded over and jumped up excitedly around him. “It’s walk time, weirdos. Let’s go.” He called the elevator and when the doors opened, the dogs all barrelled in. He squeezed himself among them and pushed the button for the ground floor as the doors closed. The elevator immediately dropped and they were falling quickly down to the awaiting outdoors. The doors slid open and the dogs bounded outward, each going in separate directions. Rozovyy started sniffing around the flower garden while Fandango and Arbuz decided to chase some hummingbirds. Ruben just kept an eye on them while taking in the fresh air. He looked up to see if he could spot Sydryn's floor, and low and behold it was the pinkest stripe along the inside of the building. Going one up, he still couldn't figure out how such a large space could fit into Azeros's floor when the story seemed no taller. Some kind of magic was definitely about. Matter of fact, it would definitely be late autumn in Europe but the plants were all in bloom and Ruben was comfortable outside in a tank top. Ruben took a look around at the other animals Sydryn kept here. Up close, it was much less a zoo than one big enclosure. All the animals shared the open space and it didn’t seem that anyone was interested in eating each other. They all seemed content just to go about their business and chill, enjoying their pinkness. It still seemed unnatural to keep them all there, but it didn’t look quite as cruel as Ruben expected. At the far end of the enclosure, there was a little tool shed and a bench. On that bench, Dusty sat quietly, reading a book. Ruben hadn't seen much of Dusty for the last couple days, but that was mostly due to Ruben not leaving Dante's room, so he wouldn't have known Dusty had been MIA for some time now. If he had known, he'd figure Sydryn sent Ruben out with the dogs to find Dusty. But he hadn't known so he didn’t figure. Arbuz had found him first and was curled up on the bench beside him, putting their doglike head in his lap. Dusty noticed Ruben approaching and put a bookmark in his page before looking up. “Hello.” “Hey.” Ruben didn’t know yet how to feel about Dusty. He was glad he'd been unbound from Dante, but it still felt like it was his fault Dante even had to go through all this in the first time. “I'm just reading,” Dusty stated. “I can see that. I'm just walking the dogs.” “Yeah…” Dusty closed his book. “Do you read, Ruben?” “Mmm… Not really,” Ruben admitted. “I used to read a lot as a kid. Fell out of it after middle school… Does reading to my kids, count?” “Sure. I don't see why not.” Ruben shrugged. “I don't really have the time for a book for myself.” “Fair enough…” Dusty stroked the spine of his book. “I had a lot of time to read when I lived with Syd. You'd be surprised how many books were published with pink covers.” “I can't imagine… Listen, I'm not really a small talk kind of guy…” Ruben stated. “If you want to talk to me about something, might as well get to the point.” “I'm lost, Ruben,” Dusty said. “I feel really empty. I thought maybe I could read and find something inspiring in it to help me through this, but it's not working. I can't enjoy the things I liked before right now.” “That's a lot…” Ruben shooed Arbuz off the bench and sat down. “But it sounds like depression.” “Azeros said the ritual took my emotions away temporarily. I don't feel like they're back yet,” Dusty said. “I want to want something but I don't know what…” “What about Grey?” Ruben offered. “Grey?” Dusty stared blank for a moment then his head jerked up and tears started falling from his eyes. “Oh god… I forgot about Grey…” “Dude.” Dusty wiped his eyes and turned to Ruben. “I didn’t think I'd forget my son!” “Well… If you lost your emotions, they're back,” Ruben stated. Dusty sobbed and rubbed his knees. “I want to go home…” “Hell, me too. Couldn't you though?” Ruben said. “You're not bound to Dante. You could just leave.” “Sydryn said I need to recover first…” Dusty stated. “And I know they're right… I don't feel right inside. I'm…a little too strong, if that makes any sense.” “Sure, you sucked the life out my boyfriend,” Ruben stated. “Ruben, the ritual—” “I'm messing with you.” Ruben smiled. Dusty looked at him shocked. “Wow…” “What?” “I've just… I've never seen you smile before.” Ruben frowned. “I smile.” “Not around me. Everyone says you don't like me.” “I don't. I didn’t…” Ruben rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I'm a simple guy… I went through shit as a kid and it messed me up so I was pretty happy just to have a decent normal life after that. But then I met Yori, and I love him, but it wasn't until my kids were born did I get a really big reality check. It's like every day, there's another…supernatural thing going on, and yeah, I mean I knew this alien business was happening in the news, but none of it really affected me until Yori. While I wouldn't want to live without him, I am constantly reminded that I'm… I'm literally just a man. A human man. No powers, no special abilities. A normal regular human. But I live in the same house as a hyper intelligent alien. My partner and my children are basically dog gods. I��ve met a mermaid, an angel, a dragon... And then all of a sudden I find out my boyfriend was bonded to a demon. Then…on top of that… They have a child together.” “Ruben…” Dusty bit his lip. “I didn’t realise—” “Of course you didn’t,” Ruben huffed. “No one else seems to know how fucking terrifying all that is. I'm sick and tired of it! I'm literally just a man! And all I want is a fucking drink!” Dusty blinked. “A drink? Just have a drink.” “I…” Ruben licked his teeth. “Ah, fuck… Yeah. Let's have a fucking drink.” “Let's?” Dusty perked up. “Me and you?” “Yeah. Can demons get drunk?” “Yeah, sure.” “Good.” Rusty looked up at the building. “One of these dragons has got to have something good… Maybe one of them has an alcohol hoard.” “You want to raid another dragon's hoard?” Dusty was suddenly both terrified and terribly excited. “Sure. Isn't there one with a basement floor or something?” Ruben said. “There's gotta be a cellar down there.” “We really… We really shouldn't…” Dusty muttered, hating every word. “You're a demon. My parents thought I was too,” Ruben said smirking and standing up. “You were born to indulge yourself. Am I wrong?” “Well, no… But don't you have the dogs?” “When they're done shitting, we'll just drop them back in Syd's and sneak out,” Ruben said. “You…Dante told me you could teleport.” “Oh. Yes, yes I can. Only where I've been or can see though.” “Then just take us back down here after we lose these dogs. Deal?” “I haven’t done something like this in a really long time,” Dusty said. “Me neither. I miss it,” Ruben said. “Are we fucking doing this or not?” Dusty nodded quickly. “Yes! Definitely!” “Alright. Awesome.”

#lore #Ruben #Dusty #Sydryn #Rozovyy #Arbuz #Fandango #demon #dragon #alien #night dog

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randomslasher · 7 years ago

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Hi I'm sorry to bother you but I wanted to ask something about speaking to someone going through pain. My dad recently started having some bad back pain, like stay in bed pain, and he's gotten better but still has to stay home a lot. The thing is recently he's been a bit short, or shorter than usual. And I understand that he's having a hard time so I was wondering if there was anyway I could be more supportive? something that will make him feel better?

Ouch...I’m sorry to hear that, anon. I can definitely relate.

There’s not a whole lot that you can do to help, as a lot of what he’s going through is frustration and anger at himself and his own body. If he’s never had back issues before and has always been able-bodied, he’s definitely going to be experiencing some strong anger about it. He’s very likely even going through the stages of grief--I know no one died, but losing functionality of part of your body, and learning to live with your new limitations, is a very emotional process.

As a reminder, those stages are: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.

Applied to back pain, they look like this:

Denial: “I’m fine. It’s not that bad. It’ll get better. I’m just being a baby. I can still do XYZ. It’s no big deal.”

Anger: Being short with people who are trying to help, being excessively frustrated when he can’t perform simple tasks, yelling, jaw clenching, having a shorter temper than before.

Bargaining: This will mostly be internal, but he’ll likely be doing things like “Okay, if I stay in bed today, then TOMORROW I’d better be feeling good again” or “I swear as soon as my back gets better, I’m going to start going to the gym and doing all my physical therapy and get my core super strong again” or “I’ll start doing yoga every morning, I’m gonna have the strongest back ever, I promise, just stop hurting now!”

Depression: This one’s easy to spot. Sadness, decreased affect, decreased or increased appetite, listlessness, a sense of “my life is never going to get better.”

Acceptance: Moving forward and learning to manage his pain and accept his limitations with his condition. If his injury IS temporary, this stage will happen when he recovers; if it’s not--if it’s going to be a chronic or recurrent situation (which unfortunately back pain often is), then reaching this stage might take longer.

As for what you can do? Without knowing your dad’s temperament or your relationship to him, I have a harder time with this, but I can tell you what helps me: Remind him that it’s okay to be hurting. Encourage him to take medication that will help with his pain, even if he’s not hurting all that bad yet (I take ibuprofen pretty much on the clock now--though of course that means I have to drink TONS of fluids to keep my kidneys healthy). But most importantly?

Let his anger wash off you. Do your best not to be hurt if he snaps or lashes out from pain. Especially if he then immediately apologizes. I know that can be difficult, but chances are it’s not about you at all. Remind him you love him. Give him hugs when he can tolerate them. Show him that you know that his anger is directed inward and is a result of his pain.

I’m giving you this advice with one big grain of salt:

Do this as long as that really is what’s going on.

As someone who experiences chronic pain myself (and back pain to boot), I know firsthand how easy it is to snap at people who are just trying to hep because pain does things to your head. If that’s really where his anger is coming from, then being understanding and forgiving is a good thing.

However.

If anyone else reading this has someone who is constantly angry and treats them poorly, or if your dad starts getting worse and lashing out at you all the time?

That’s not okay.

Let me give you a quick example of the difference.

When my back goes out--like REALLY goes out, which you guys haven’t actually ever seen yet--I literally can’t get up without help. I have to move around my own house with a walker. Breathing wrong sends sharp pangs of agony through my spine. It’s bad.

If I’m in that state, and my fiance comes over to try to help me and I’m not quite ready for her to and she tries to pull me up and I snap, “Don’t TOUCH me!” because I’m in pain and frustrated and afraid she’ll hurt me if she moves too soon? That’s one thing. And I should still apologize for it, because she was just trying to help.

BUT.

If I start calling her names or being rude to her just because I’m in pain and need someone to take it out on? THAT’S not okay. That’s when understandable, justifiable pain-anger turns abusive.

I just wanted to clarify the difference, lest anyone think I was implying that it’s okay to be emotionally abusive if you’re hurting. It’s NOT.

But it is okay to forgive the occasional short or snappy remark when someone is hurting a lot, because pain is so, so hard to live with, and can make you short-tempered, even (sometimes especially) with those who are just trying to help.

I hope your dad’s back feels better soon, anon.

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silentfcknhill · 8 years ago

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hey I've seen you reblog stuff about drugs and stuff and I just wanted to ask what narcatics were you into? random and blunt question but just curous. I'm having a hard time lately... drinking but I'm trying to quit with with it now and just started weed. I just feel like it's neve gonna be better, you know? shit I so okay for so long and then it all goes to fucking hell again. I'm sorry for unloading like this....

It’s okay, I hope you don’t mind if I ramble a long-ass answer. I was mainly addicted to drugs that were not traditionally considered addictive physically, just psychologically. My main drugs of choice were weed, acid, mushrooms and occasionally molly. I never had a huge problem with alcohol, as in I didn’t drink often but when I did I went way overboard and would often mix drugs that would make me very ill. Weed was okay for me at first before I went overboard and was spending hundreds a month, and I am not completely anti-weed like some people in NA, but I think there are people who can and can’t handle it mentally. I can’t. If you have mental health issues, especially anxiety (though I’ve seen some people it can help their anxiety), paranoia, dissociation, derealization or hallucinations/problems with reality to begin with, it is like playing with fire. I’m not saying you should panic, everyone has different reactions, but I could never smoke again after the bad acid trips and ego deaths I’ve had. Too many flashbacks. And I got serotonin syndrome a lot. I quit using 17 months ago and I’m still dealing with effects like visual fractals, a new worldview and mood problems.

For about a year I was suicidal and having panic attacks every day, and I had to work double shifts while crying and vomiting (quiting was not an option because we are too poor and I did not want to be homeless again, especially in that condition). It takes a while for your brain to recover and learn to produce it’s own serotonin after smoking weed every day for two years, so there is a major depression that occurs when you get clean. I lost my appetite for a couple months, and also couldn’t sleep on my own. Drugs were basically my go-to for every minor inconvenience, so learning to be a person again and deal with problems directly was difficult. I became extremely paranoid while detoxing. I also lost all interest in everything, I experienced no joy and only dread, terror and depression. My obsessions such as movies and music were no longer enough to enjoy, I needed to experience them on absurd amounts of psychedelics and meditate on them and see them from weird perspectives to appreciate them. I have started gaining back my appreciation for the little things in life again by now.

The hardest part for me was coming to terms with the fact that I will never be the same as I was before ever again, and now I just have to adjust. It sucks that I was a teenager while this was happening, and my brain was still developing, so now it became a part of my youth and shaped my personality a lot. But I try to think of it positively, because now I have a new chance to become a better person, I have a fresh start and not many people can have a second chance after fucking up and having no common sense. I am lucky to have not gotten into any legal trouble, though a lot of relationships were destroyed, I really deserved it. I am not trying to self-pity, but it is a fact that I have suffered beyond words and been to hell (I’m not religious but to me hell is a psychological state of torment and existential darkness and lack of reality), but I have also grown as a person and become exponentially more self-aware, empathetic, introspective and accepting of my defects.

I know exactly what you mean when you say you feel it will never get better. When you’re in darkness it effects your whole perception and sense of reality and colors every area of life. We lose our memory of anything good ever. Kind of like a Dementor from harry Potter has sucked out our soul, which Dementors incidentally were written by JK Rowling as an analogy of her depression (Sorry for random reference, I am a fan of Harry Potter). But we are both still young, well I am and I assume you are as well as I don’t know many elderly people on Tumblr, and time changes things. Time doesn’t heal, but it does give you the opportunity to heal and grow. Nothing will ever magically heal, we will always be addicts, but you will have good days, and some very good days and memories, and those are worth riding through the bad to get to. It is very difficult to keep perspective, but I spent a couple years of my life on drugs. I have 70 years left ahead of me, best case scenario. This is not the end at all.

I have seen people successfully drink and smoke and not become upset or addicted, but I have Asperger’s and BPD and I was foolish to ignore the sensitivities and chances I was taking and I put my trust into the wrong influences and people. I have developed my own coping mechanisms throughout my life, because addiction was obviously not the first and only trauma I’ve been through, I’ve been having issues since being a toddler basically including emotional violent abuse from the time I was born, sexual assault, personal deaths, bullying, self-harm and mental illness, having parents who are mentally ill and unstable and dealing with their suicide threats as a child, divorce, homelessness, murderers in the family, robbery, knife attacks, being a therapist to my mother, trying to stay objective as she described to me her post-partum depression involving demons telling her to throw me off a balcony and molest me, multiple suicide attempts of my own including a horrendous overdose, multiple hospitalizations, medications, dating a man in his 40’s as a young teen, being cheated on twice, coming to grips with my LGBT identity, and much more. I grew up in a fantasy world, always acting and playing pretend even to this day, I live my life through the eyes of my favorite characters, even while alone. AT this point it is very easy for me to detach from my emotions and reality and observe my own suffering as though I was a character in a movie or something. This is also why I have a decent tolerance to pain. I just view it as an experience, a memory. Time is really an illusion, so when I am hurt, I just remember that in a few hours it will be like nothing ever happened.

Also, the one most important message I took from NA is probably the simplest, and most people don’t give it a second thought because it’s just a cliche to them, but when you really meditate on it and practice it, you realize how incredibly true and helpful it is: “One day at a time.” And that motto is a principle, not have to take it literally. I know for a lot of people, myself included, it can be more like one minute at a time, but you really gotta try to keep priorities in sight and self-care when need be. Sometimes there is nothing you can do to help yourself but go to sleep all day. It is fine to do that. I have trained myself to fall asleep relatively quickly using deep, controlled stomach breathing and and stims and mental focus patterns such as waterfalls, space travel, etc, movement that stays constant and is relaxing. Music helps too, but only without lyrics. There are a lot of sound pieces on youtube and stuff made for relaxing, like the sound of rain, or nature like the ocean or amazon. Whatever suits you. It is handy to have an off button like a computer sometimes. You just shut down and reboot.

I’m not saying it is healthy to be avoidant, and I definitely have shut down and become very robotic as of late, but it is highly preferable to the alternative for me until when/if I learn better skills. You will hopefully feel better when you wake up, whether it was physical anxiety or mental or both. Plus, scientifically, sleep and dreaming is when our brains process information and memories, so we may come to familiarize ourselves with unknown fears or stresses while we sleep and wake up more able to deal with them rationally without the fight or flight. One day at a time ties in to a concept we call “the triangle of self-obsession”, and it relates to how living in the past causes resentments, focusing on negatives in the present causes anger, and fear stems from living in the future. One day at a time, take shit as it comes and don’t cross bridges before you get to them. of course, planning still is good but we must be flexible and not place our whole mental state on something that hasn’t happened yet. Anger roots back to fear, fear roots back to lack of control, and once we accept that we really cannot control everything and be omnipresent and all-knowing puppetmasters, we become more humble.

I myself have come to terms with the fact that I am very narcissistic. I never thought I was, due to low self-esteem, but it only recently occurred to me that being narcissism is usually just a symptom of low self-esteem anyways, and it is just expressed differently. Some people build massive egos and brag. For me, my narcissism forms through being self-centered and selfishly focused on my own problems. Some people focus daily on distinguishing whether they are living and acting on their own will or their higher power’s will, and adjusting their behavior accordingly, because living on our own will is what got us in this position in the first place. I don’t really have a higher power in the traditional sense at this point, but it is still good to be mindful that I am not the center of everything, and that even though I claim to be open-minded, I am still just as judgmental and hypocritical as anyone else, I just express and experience it in different ways. Anyways, long tangent, no one cares, I will shut up now. I am kind of a basketcase, but if you need to talk, you can message or dm me anytime.

#asks #anon #tw: drugs #tw: abuse #sorry for long personal post but i could not respond privately to an anon

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myheartisbro-ken · 8 years ago

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Hi! 💙 I hope your are doing well. Congrats on the article. The reading will probably be okay. Are you a fast or slow reader? I read rather slowly, especially if I'm enjoying what I'm reading. It sticks with me better that way, but it takes me longer to do things. 😅 My semester ends next week, then have finals period. l'm taking Summer courses tho to get ahead. I get what you mean. I don't party, but around TH and F there's a certain restlessness about some of the students to drink/part. (Pt 1)

Ugh, I hate group work. 😐 Best of luck to you. Maybe your for a decent group. Anyway, I prefer morning courses. I get up at an obnoxiously early time to attend though. I’m fine with it though because it lets me take my courses in a block with out breaks, so once I’m done, I’ll be done for the day. 😥 Probably an unpopular schedule though. Oh, so My Immortal can actually be constructive to writers. That makes sense. It’s what a writer shouldn’t ever do. About JK, I think it’s an attempt (pt 2)(pt 3) Lowkey don’t recall my train of thought..Anyway, wow, I definitely agree with your statements about Lena knowing Kara’s dual identity. Snapper knowing wouldn’t help anything, since he’s too minor a character to do anything useful with information. Lena knowing would create more depth, tension, plot possibilities etc., which is why’d it would be a shame for her to be left in the dark. Also, I feel her not knowing (or at least theorizing Kara’s supergirl) is ooc. I suppose the writers– –haven’t had an issue with that based on what they’ve done to Alex. :-/ Hmph. I’m still so annoyed about that. Partially, because I’m a SuperCorp shipper, but mainly because it’s an insult to Alex’s personality to force her to advocate on Mon El’s behalf. Who was your favorite character from S1, btw? I’d probably go with Kara, but for S2 it’s definitely Lena. Anyway, yes Lena looks so amazing in the trailer! Heh, I intended it to be a soft FMK…I was going to make it all Katie, but wasn’t–(4)–words, words, something, but wasn’t going to be that cruel to you. (Hopefully that fit with my previous thing). Smh, you’ve no qualms though do you? ;-) I’m kidding. Your answers were well thought out…even though you didn’t kill anyone. I can’t blame you though. I don’t think Red K! Kara is all that bad, but she’s definitely intimidating, so is Kate. Anyway, let’s see FMK: Lena, Morgana,and Kate… :-/ 3 M'kay, that’s hard, especially since I love them all and ship SuperCorp. (5 TBC)–words, words, something, but wasn’t going to be that cruel to you. (Hopefully that fit with my previous thing). Smh, you’ve no qualms though do you? ;-) I’m kidding. Your answers were well thought out…even though you didn’t kill anyone. I can’t blame you though. I don’t think Red K! Kara is all that bad, but she’s definitely intimidating, so is Kate. Anyway, let’s see FMK: Lena, Morgana,and Kate… :-/ 3 M'kay, that’s hard, especially since I love them all and ship SuperCorp. (5 TBC)(6) Uh, let’s see. I’m going to assume they are all brought to current times, so the 21st century. I would marry Morgana. You know what? I’d marry Morgana S1 or S5 because I’ve so many emotions for her and what she went through. I’d want her to know someone would be on (*cough* and by *cough*) her side. Also, she has magic that’s cool, but not the point. I don’t really want Supergirl to kill me or be sad. I wouldn’t kill Lena as of now; she’s not done anything wrong. Also, her company is (TBC)(8?) So, yes: M:Morgana, F: Lena, K: Kate. Hmm, I see yours and raise you: FMK: Lucy, she’s a vampire now but has some control over it | Kara Danvers, more so S1 in personality, but she’s still elects to become a reporter and encourages you | Lena, before she met Kara and is still learning to be a CEO…I guess that’s a younger!Lena? Idk. Okay, that should work. I hope you have a good day and night. Do you read comics? I don’t, but was curious if you did. U seem to know some lore. :-)

Heyyy! I’m not so sure I’m a fast or slow reader, it depends on my state of mind, if I take my meds and external interruptions. Usually I can read pretty fast if it’s something I’m interested in but I tend to miss things and have to read it again, with school things I’m the worst. I still have things from last year that I never got around to read and one of them was about superman (I miss studying cinema because we could have an entire class about superman and co and then write fanfiction of the world as an activity). We don’t have summer classes here, that sounds interesting, it’d be nice to get ahead, also it’s about to be winter here so after July we’ll get maybe a month off and then it’s back to being unresponsible adults. I’ve nothing against drinking and partying, I like drinking (parties are usually weird but sometimes it’s cool) but don’t freaking leave class to do it, go after the class, how disrespectful is it to leave the poor teacher there waiting 20 minutes to see if the rest of the class will show up or they’ll have to do with six or seven people? Also you pay over 1.000 bucks a month to study and you don’t give a shit about being in class? it’s throwing money away and it’s disrespectful to whoever is paying school, even if that someone is yourself. I’m not those kids that say you should only do what’s right and never skip class never drink or do anything because you have to study instead of throwing your life away. But school is expensive and respect is something you should have for everyone (unless someone is a jerk, because it’s not murder if the person is a jerk…jk)

I never liked studying in the mornings but it’s sort of better, however, my classes only exist at night, there is morning journalism classes, but it’s in another neighborhood and we have to cross the bridge and there’s no cool campus. I like my campus.

group projects are the worst. They end friendships, they end marriages, they end happiness, they lead to murder… it’s never fun. I always imagine that scene with the guy getting pizza and coming back to the place on fire and people bleeding, or that one from Mean Girls with the fighting over Aaron Samuels in animal style. Those are the only representations of group projects that are realistic.

I love how you just started to talk about JK, had two words in and

Honestly Alex has been so ooc this season it’s almost sad. No offense to Sanvers, but I think even that relationship is a bit ooc. Not the fact that there is a relationship but how it is being handled. Not gonna go into it cuz I don’t want to rant here. but I would ship Sanvers if they had put a bit more of effort into getting them together not ‘I don’t want a baby gay rn, so let’s be friends. PSYCHE I just got shot in the most harmless area of my entire body, let's make out!’

The same Alex that thought James wasn’t good enough for Kara and decked Maxwell Lord for existing would never make excuses for someone that is basically the dumb alien version of Lord with worse hair and more aggression and more pretending to be a #goodguy who’s just trying so hard and changed because after 9 months on earth as a grown man he decided to read a book, feed himself and clean his own mess… or pretend to clean his own mess while Kara actually does it and he just sits there and says she’s annoying because she doesn’t want to run away from her problems. (hey look, ranting… she said with surprise in her voice for some reason)

My favorite character was definitely Cat… and Kara. Both at the same time, I can’t choose between them, please don’t make me. and now it’s Lena… and still Kara even though she’s basically dead inside and that girl who cries because her boyfriend is moving away and it will destroy her life because that person she knows nothing about and met 9 months ago when he tried to kill her and has been lying to her and shoving her self-esteem down ever since is apparently the most important person in her life and she can’t live without him. he cooked her breakfast so he can’t move away and face his responsibilities, she’s the best thing he’s ever known, not person, thing. That woman in the best thing… god, this is so gross I cannot continue even to joke about this. so yeah, Kara is SUPER ooc this season, but I still love her and have faith she will recover from this terrible illness and come back to us, I miss her.

Yes! I would totally still marry Morgana even season 5 Morgana. poor thing just needs a hug and a friend to tell her she’s not a monster for being born different. I might start crying now so I’ll change topics.

Definitely Marry Kara, no questions asked. Fuck Lena because, I mean, just look at her. And Kill Lucy, my poor bby, but she’s a vampire so she has to go, control or not, ‘vegetarian’ vampires are dumb.

I do read comics, not as much as I’d like, but I also watched all of the DC cartoons (minus Legion because it looks dumb) most of Smallville and Lois & Clark and when I want to know some more I read about the storylines and all, like even when I don’t read the comic itself, I read about the comic. I won’t say I know all about everything, but I can hold my ground, I guess, I’m also not above admitting I don’t know/haven’t read enough about one subject/character and reading about that on one of the sites I trust. Also watched a lot of Marvel cartoons and most of the movies aaaand I read a lot of Marvel comics, specially Balck Widow, Hawkeye, and Young Avengers.

Did you watch any superhero cartoons? They were a pretty big deal in the 90′s and early 2000′s.

Hope you have a great day and night 💙😊

#answered asks #💙

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