#constant vigilance is not healthy but what can you do when it's what keeps you alive

[brucewaynehater101]

The damage constantly being tested by Batman must've fucked Tim up. How often does small gestures, such as Bruce adding an extra spoonful of sugar, cause Tim to spend a significant amount of time analyzing for clues?

It would be exhausting to constantly monitor Batman and his demeanor

[blooming-violets]

Can I add on to the Suicidal Peter thing? I feel like that would cause so much stress for reader? Like her hair would be going gray and maybe she faints from exhaustion because she's staying up all night making sure Peter wouldn't try to off himself again? Would he notice that she's extra clingy because she's that nervous of him being alone with his thoughts and whatnot? Maybe she wouldn't tell him because she doesn't want him to feel any more guilt that he already has? Sorry if that was alot, just thinking about how that would be for his girlfriend

Trigger Warnings: This is all about suicidal ideation, self harm, and losing yourself to take care of someone who is suicidal. Includes panic attacks, severe weight loss from lack of eating due to anxiety, mentions of blood and cutting, attempted suicide on top of a building. It's a suicide/depression/self harm/broken lovers fic. Be careful if those topics are difficult for you<3

Reminder: This is a depiction of an extremely toxic relationship. It is not cute or healthy or something to strive for. Just, like, as an fyi. Don't do it. Stop. Not healthy. No. Not even for Peter Parker. Don't do it. Stop it right now. Never get on a ledge for a man wtf are you doing.

I think she would be in a state of constant hyper vigilance and high anxiety. He would take over all her thoughts until she can't function anymore. Never eating. Not able to work. Doesn't even want to take a shower because she's afraid of having him out of her sight. Not wanting to sleep.

God forbid she wakes up in middle of the night and he's not in bed, she'd be thrown straight into a panic attack. There's been times when he's woken up to go to the bathroom and returned back to find her hyperventilating on the floor.

Peter dried his wet hands on his boxers as he turned off the sink. His eyes were squinted closed, still half asleep, and he shuffled out of the bathroom. He had no idea what time it was and he didn't care to turn on any bright lights to find the clock. He rubbed his fingers through his shaggy hair and let out a quiet yawn, fumbling with their bedroom door handle to push himself back inside.

A dull flurry of tingles ran up his spine as his hand grasped the knob.

Spider-senses. They weren't super intense or threatening but they let him know that someone was crouched behind the door. He knew it was her and not a threat. His senses always felt dulled down when she was around. His ears perked up to listen to her quiet, muffled sobs.

Peter frowned and gently opened the door so not to accidentally hit her with it.

She was curled up against the wall. Her eyes were wild, the whites flashing back and forth as they scanned the dark room. Tears spilled silently down her face and her body racked with heavy pants. Her teeth bit down on the sleeve of her shirt to keep her cries muffled.

"Baby, what happened?" He asked, quickly kneeling down in front of her. Five minutes ago she was sound asleep beside him.

He scanned her for any external injuries but came up with nothing. He placed his hands against each of her cheeks to get her to look at him. His thumbs brushed the tears from under her eyes.

"You-" she gasped, eyes wide, like she was forcing them to focus on him. "You...you...here...you're here."

Peter nodded. A weight of guilt dropped in his stomach as he realized what she was implying.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I'm here. I'm always here. Just went to the bathroom. 's okay. Are you hurt?"

Her chest heaved with each quickened breath but her shoulders stopped shaking the longer she took him in. Her mouthed moved like she was trying speak but no words ever came out. Only more sobs.

He flicked out his wrist to shoot a web against the light switch, tugging it on, so she could see him better.

"See?" He spoke softly, trying to soothe her the best he was able. "Look at me. I'm here."

Fresh tears welled in her eyes and spilled down over his hands. Peter sighed sadly, sliding an arm under her legs and the other behind her back to scoop her up into his arms. He carried her back to the bed. She cradled into his lap and he pressed the side of her ear against his chest so she could hear his heart. He was alive. There was physical proof she could hear.

"I'm here," he continued to reassure her. "I'm not going anywhere."

They both doubted that statement but neither of them dared to challenge it.

He slipped his hand under her shirt to gently scratch her back, humming softly against the side of her head.

Slowly, her breathing regulated. He felt her body melt against him. Her eyes closed.

"Are you okay?" He whispered.

She gave a soft nod, mumbling as sleep started to grip her once more, "Nightmare. Nothin' to worry 'bout."

He wrapped his arms tighter around her, feeling her drift off, and knew the nightmare she was talking about wasn't one that happened during sleep.

Some days are better than others. Some days he seems almost normal and she finds herself able to breathe a little easier. But she can never allow herself to fully relax. Relaxing means getting sloppy. Relaxing means she might miss the signs.

The dark circles overtake her eyes. Caking on makeup can only do so much. They still poke through until she eventually just gives up trying to cover them. The whites of her eyes have become a permanent state of bloodshot.

She's losing weight. At first people compliment her for it. They don't know why it's happening. All they see is a loss of weight and think it's purposeful and think they need to praise her for it like it's some great accomplishment. Soon it becomes a clear problem. Food doesn't want to stay down. Her stomach was too filled with anxiety to make room for anything else.

Her friends no longer text her. She never responded anyway. She can't go out. That would be the perfect time for Peter to lose it.

She struggles to keep working. Her job is suffering as a result of her mental state. Too many sick days taken. She's days away from being fired but she doesn't care. All she cares about is Peter. Nothing else matters. Keeping him safe becomes her obsession.

The lack of sleep makes her dizzy.

Peter stared at the television. He couldn't focus on what was playing. His mind was...elsewhere. He dug his nails against the skin of his thumb. It pissed him off that he cut them short earlier in the day. They weren't long enough to scrape against his skin with the force he wanted. He wanted blood. He wanted pain. His nails were giving him nothing but a mild annoyance.

He couldn't get up to find anything sharper when she was curled up beside him. She watched him like a hawk. If he moved, she moved.

His gaze landed on the steak knife thrown against his empty dinner plate still laying out on the coffee table in front of them. Once he caught sight of it, he couldn't see anything else.

He couldn't see that her plate was still full of food beside it, untouched. He couldn't see her eyes glazing out of focus as she stared at the television, equally unable to pay attention to what was in front of her as they "watch" their show. He couldn't see her shaking hands from lack of sleep or proper nutrition. He couldn't see the gauntness to her cheeks or the red tint in her eyes.

All he could see was that knife.

He imagined dragging it across his skin. Slicing it open. Spilling his blood. He imagined cutting it across his palm to mimic the color of Ben's blood on his hands. George's blood. Gwen's blood. He imagined stabbing it into his neck. So fast that she couldn't stop him. In and out. Real quick. Over and done just like that.

"Do you need more water?"

Peter's eyes snapped up to attention as she broke his trance.

"What?" He mumbled.

She nodded to his empty glass of water, "Want me to get you more? You looked like you were staring at it? Thirsty?"

He gave a slow nod, lost in thought. Good. Let her get up. Let her move away. He could grab the knife while she wasn't looking.

She reached for the glass and stood up. He was too focused on the blade to notice how she stopped to sway unsteadily on her feet before walking off to the kitchen.

He heard the glass crash a second before her body hit the floor.

He was up and leaping over the couch a heartbeat after, the knife immediately fading from his mind.

"Babe," he gasped, reaching her in seconds. He gently slapped a hand over her cheek. "Hey! Wake up! Baby, wake up!"

Peter fumbled for the cell phone in his pocket, ready to call an ambulance, when she groaned. He dropped it beside him to tend to her instead.

Her eyes blinked open, hazy and confused, "Wha-"

"It's okay," he breathed through the rising panic. "Try not to move. You fainted. Hit your head."

Oh god, her eyes. Had they always been that sunken in? When did her face start to look so skeletal? He couldn't remember. When had she changed? Was that...

He ran a hand over her hair.

...grey hair?

Sporadic grey strands slipped through his fingers. She looked sickly. She wasn't right.

She lifted an arm to rub her eyes with a muffled moan. A trickle of blood ran down the back of her arm where she had landed on the shattered glass. It painted a trail of red down her skin. His eyes widened at the sight, unable to look away. He tunnel visioned. His sight blackened around the edges as he stared.

Blood. Her blood.

His head twitched. He hurt her. He did this. He made her get up because he wanted that knife. He didn't even more water. He wasn't even thirsty. She was up because of him. She was...broken...fallen...Gwen fell...she broke...he broke them all...dead...all of them...blood...so much blood...always blood...

Her hands were pressed to the side of his head. She was sitting up now. He hadn't even seen her move. Was he-

Crying.

Hot tears streamed down his face. He was sobbing. Gasping. He couldn't remember starting that. Time was slipping through his fingers. He was losing bits and pieces. What year was it? How old was he?

He was sixteen, holding Ben's body.

No, no, no.

Eighteen, Gwen in his arms. Shattered. No.

Twenty...six? eight? Had he turned thirty yet?

Fuck, he couldn't remember.

"It's okay, Peter." She was soothing him. "It's okay. I'm fine. I'm okay. Breathe, Pete. Deep breaths. Stay with me."

He was supposed to be the one taking care of her. What was he doing? What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he stop crying?

She was running her fingers through his hair, pressing her forehead against his, kissing away his tears.

He clung to the front of her shirt, tugging her closer, he couldn't get her close enough. He needed to feel her. He needed to breathe her in, touch her, fuse her through his skin until she melted straight into him forever.

She wasn't dead. It was just a cut. A cut.

She clutched onto his head, pressing his face against her breasts, holding him close. This was the wrong way around. He should be holding her. He was failing. Nothing was working right. Everything was backwards. Everything was wrong. He didn't remember who he was anymore.

"I got you, Peter. I'm okay. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

She cupped his jaw in her palms to lift his head to hers. She placed soft kisses against his lips. It made his head spin. He wanted her closer but he was afraid if he reached for her, she would crumble away into a fading memory like the rest of them.

As she kissed him, his hand reached out besides him instead, fingers finding a shard of glass and silently slipping into his pocket.

For later.

Just in case.

Peter's stopped being Spider-Man because she asked him to. She's afraid to have him out of her sight. Spider-Man is too dangerous for someone who's suicidal. He can't be trusted. She struggles to breathe when he's not around.

They spend most of their time on the couch "watching" tv. She makes him shower with her. She stays up to watch him sleep, now. When she does doze off, any small movement or sound will jerk her straight awake. Her eyes only ever look for him. She can't see anything else.

At what point does she become an enabler to his behavior? There's being a caregiver and then there's letting someone ruin your life. He's not getting external help because he has her. They're eating each other alive. Sucking the life out of each other. Soon, there will be nothing left to leach off of.

By continuing down this path, it's only a matter of time before she hit rock bottom beside him.

I think that might be the only thing that pushes Peter out of the hole. Because he loves her. He's broken and depressed and a neglectful boyfriend but he does love her. Either they both end up dead or they end up alive. There's only two options here with them because neither of them will ever leave the other. Drag each other down straight to death or lift each other to something brighter.

It had been about an hour since he last saw her. That was unusual. The past five months, she had been his shadow. Attached at his hip. Never out of his sight for more than a minute or two. He dragged himself off the floor where he had been laying. He had bent down to reach for the remote that had fallen off the couch and ended up on the floor without the willpower to get back up. He had just laid there, staring up at the ceiling, letting time pass.

Except too much time had passed because she wasn't here.

Peter sat up, feeling a bit dizzy from the change of pressure in his head, and called out her name. When she didn't answer, he called her again, louder this time. Still nothing.

That worried him.

He jumped to his feet and focused his hearing to listen for her. She wasn't in the apartment. He didn't have to search. He just knew.

His heart began racing. His skin was exploding in tingles. Goosebumps. Anxiety swirled in his stomach. Colors intensified. His hearing dialed up to its full extent. His senses kicked into overdrive.

Trouble.

He hadn't felt his Spider-senses in months. They overwhelmed him and caused him to stumble back against the couch. He had gone so long without feeling anything. Suddenly, there was everything.

He gave a few rapid blinked, trying to focus his eyes and gain back control of his body.

He had to find her.

Peter stumbled out their apartment door, barefoot and sweating profusely, looking wildly up and down the empty hall. He yelled out her name once more. He knew she wouldn't answer but it burst out of him with a longing desperation anyway. He hadn't been away from her for this long in months. He couldn't breathe.

When had she left? Why hadn't he heard her open the door? How far gone had he let himself get that he wouldn't notice her walking out?

He forced his breath to steady as he paused, taking a deep breath, and letting those familiar senses work like they used to.

The roof.

He had to get to the roof.

She was up there. If anyone ever tried to ask how he knew, he wouldn't be able to tell them. He just knew. That's how his senses worked. They told his body where to move and how fast to go and where to be. They told him of danger.

And they were telling him that needed to be on the roof as fast as he could move.

Peter took the stairs two at a time, leaping over railings, and throwing himself up the three flights until he burst through the roof door.

It was snowing outside. When had it become winter? How long had it been since he looked out a fucking window?

His bare feet slipped on a patch of ice but he quickly righted the fall and lunged forward.

She was here. Standing on the raised edge of the building roof. Her hair whipped around her head from the freezing wind. She was in her slippers and pajamas. He hadn't even remembered what she had been wearing until this moment. It was like she had become invisible to him. Always there, always needed, but never truly seen.

He saw her now.

She had gotten so skinny. Almost skeletal. Her body stood on unsteady legs, the wind thrashing her around like she was nothing, and his heart leapt into his throat.

Instinctively, he arm shot out to shoot a web at her back, but nothing came. He had taken off the damn web shooters forever ago. They were lost on some dust filled, cluttered dresser under a pile of clothes. Somewhere completely useless to him.

He shouted her name, pain laced heavily in his voice, running towards her. If she fell before he could catch her, he would throw himself straight off this roof after her.

She turned to look at him.

Jesus, she looked like an entirely different person. Her eyes were dead. Her body might still be hanging on but the life inside of her was gone.

"Dont!" He a broken scream ripped from his throat. "Don't you fucking dare!"

She took a step back, her slipper sliding against the ice, heels hovering over the edge.

"I can't," she whispered, voice getting lost in the howling wind.

Maybe it wasn't the wind. Maybe his own horrified cries.

"I can't do it anymore." She took another shuffled inch back and teetered dangerously on the edge. "I'm sorry."

He reached her the second she stepped off. His hand latched onto her wrist at the last possible moment before it disappeared from view. The weight of her falling body lurched him foreword and he braced himself against the ledge, sticking his feet to the frozen ground as an anchor. He reached his other hand over to scrunch up the front of her shirt, using both her arm and shirt to drag her back up to him.

She didn't fight him. Didn't move. Didn't react.

He dragged her limp body over the hump of the ledge wall and tumbled her into his arms. He fell to the ground, collecting her in his lap, clinging her protectively against him in an iron clad death grip. He chest was heaving. Tears spilled hot down his red, windswept cheeks and blurred his vision. He was struggling to breath. He couldn't catch his breath.

Everything was her. All he could feel. All he could see. He held her close, frantically running his hands over her body, over her face, feeling her, making sure she was really here. It was her. She was here. In his arms. She was alive. She was breathing.

She looked so defeated. Broken. Gone.

"Why?" His voice cracked. "How could you-how-"

Why not?

He had.

She had learned from the best.

It hit him all at once. Clarity. Realization. Everything fell into place the second she stepped off that ledge.

His entire life flashed before his eyes when she fell.

This life they were living...this life was not sustainable. It was his fault.

He had brought them here. He dug the hole and led her straight down to the bottom after him because he was afraid of being alone. He brought her down to his level because he was selfish. Needy. Weak. Afraid. She didn't belong here. He didn't either. If he had his web shooters on like he always used to, he would have reached her before she even knew he was there. He had given up everything in his life. Family, friends, Spider-Man, her.

He given up on everything and almost lost it all.

He had dug this hole for them.

Only he could help them out.

a/n: HI! Of course you can add to it! It makes me so happy that anyone gives a shit to actually contribute and join in on the story telling. I am just very slow at replying sometimes, esp during the days that I work, but I will always get there!

I dipped a toe into exploring the role of caregiver in Nicest Thing too and what it can potentially do to a person. Because I think it can really eat someone alive to be on constant high alert until there is nothing left of them except a shell of who they once were. At some point, you're going to have to chose between losing yourself or potentially losing Peter. He has to be the one to help himself. No one can force someone to get help, they have to make that choice themselves, which is the sad reality of loving someone who's going through shit. And I say that as someone who gone through a lot of shit in their life and had to have people put my ass on suicide watch. Being a caregiver of someone suicidal is a lot of thankless, hard work. If someone doesn't want help, they'll find ways to weasel around everything you to hit them with, until they're ready to do it themselves. So, keep yourself sane and healthy.

I'd like to think that after this, he helps them both. He helps her by getting better himself. Since she followed him into the hole, I think she would follow him out. Slowly. But seeing him put in the effort would give her the strength to do it herself.

Go listen to Don't Try Suicide by Queen and don't fucking kill yourself, okay? Great? Great! xoxo Katie

[lonelynpc]

Mental Health Among Healthcare Workers

so, in light of my recent mental health leave, i thought now might be a good time to discuss mental health among healthcare workers. feel free to use it for whump if you want to, i guess this is a continuation of the whump-trope posts.

there are a few things of concern but i'll list the main (and most common) ones:

compassion fatigue: sometimes called "secondary traumatic stress". this is often described as the cost of caring. simply put, it's when healthcare workers care for others day in and day out, often having little time to care for ourselves.

signs and symptoms:

the biggest one is decreased sympathy and empathy. for example, somebody who once really cared for their patients is now "impassive" or "detached". instead of chatting to patients like they used to, they just discuss what they need to and leave.

becoming task-oriented. this is not necessarily a bad thing in healthy doses, obviously we have a job to do and need to do it properly but there are still degrees of emotion in what we do. it's similar to the above.

physical and emotional exhaustion. i read a medical journal where it was described as, "feeling fatigued in every cell of your being".

negative emotions. irritability, cynicism, anger, annoyance, resentfulness, etc.

tearfulness and sadness. sometimes just unprompted, sometimes prompted.

physical complaints. headaches, nausea, vomiting, migraines, diarrhoea, non-specific pain.

negative coping mechanisms. this can be substance use, there is actually a section on this in the Oxford Handbook of Anaesthesia 5th Edition.

vicarious trauma: a response to hearing other people's trauma, pain, etc, regularly (or sometimes just once) and is a big problem in healthcare as we are sometimes not trained in how to avoid or manage this exposure. generally, it is seen after empathetic engagement (as opposed to sympathetic and compassionate), graphic exposure to trauma (verbally or visually, through reading or seeing), exposure to human cruelty.

signs and symptoms:

baseless guilt and shame. "could i have done more?", "i need to do more," "this is my fault, i made things worse," etc.

hyper-arousal reactions. becoming markedly more disturbed by certain stimuli (e.g. blood, sharps, etc), hyper-vigilance in general. you might see another patient that is bleeding and experience a more intense reaction than you usually would.

intrusive thoughts. typically about what we have been told or seen, sometimes with a trigger and sometimes without.

sleep disturbances. nightmares, sleeping too much or too little.

avoidance. most commonly in people experiencing VT, i have noticed that they will try to keep busy to avoid hearing stories from colleagues, patients or visitors. i have also seen people taking more sick days than what is normal for them, not seeing work friends outside of the hospital.

a significant change in worldview, sense of self, etc. this is one of the big ones, we often see people becoming cynical or angry or having a different change as a response to the exposure

relationship problems. this is usually due to a change in trust, self-esteem, and a lost feeling of control.

negative emotions. similar to compassion fatigue in this regard.

intimacy problems. similar reasons to relationship problems.

occupational burnout: the result of constant workplace stress that isn't being managed.

signs and symptoms:

fatigue. just exhausted, especially after work.

sleep disturbances. sleeping too much or too little.

irritability. especially with coworkers, visitors and patients.

dreading work. this can sometimes lead to an increase in sick days because the idea of going to work stresses you out so much.

feeling dissatisfied. in life, work, with accomplishments, etc.

lack of motivation. same as above.

so, how do we manage this?

debriefs. generally after medical emergency calls (code blues or MET calls), intense or upsetting cases, cases where we have identified a pattern of self-blame in the past, when requested by a staff member. this is where we discuss what happened, what we did, develop a shared understanding of the events, and offer further support services ("my door is always open," "we have a counsellor on site," etc.)

counselling. my hospital has support services available for us and we can request to see them through management whenever we like. we do not need to disclose a reason.

talk to colleagues. we often seek each other out to talk and just unwind.

separating personal and professional. people have different ways of doing this, i've met some people who use their middle name at work and people who absolutely will not take the job home with them, even for the good days. i have a separate internal dialogue at work compared to at home.

maintaining professional boundaries. this is easier said than done.

crying. it sounds weird but sometimes you just need to. i saw a neurosurgeon cry behind the nurses' station because he was overwhelmed, i cried in my consultant's office after a hard case, my consultant and i didn't even realise we were crying until someone pointed it out after a hard resus. if we're able to, we offer to watch each other's patients so that we can go and let it out. if tears are coming, there's no stopping that train.

some people get really weird about people crying in healthcare or having panic attacks but, as my favourite consultant once told me:

"as long as you are not causing harm to yourself or others, do whatever you need to do to make it to the end of the day, week, month. if that means crying your eyes out in my office every week, so be it."

sometimes, you also hear, "don't cry first. don't cry loudest," which is generally for when you're in front of the patient/visitor. it's okay to cry in front of patients/visitors (under certain circumstances), it shows them that you're human and that you care. it's not okay to cry so much that they feel like they need to comfort you. generally, in front of patients, it's a shaky voice, a few tears, and we have to be mindful of how the patient/visitor is reacting, we don't want to react more than they are. if we think our reaction is going to be greater than the patient/visitor, we will excuse ourselves.

it's all about "ring theory", not dumping inward because it's not about us:

"Here are the rules. The person in the center ring can say anything she wants to anyone, anywhere. She can kvetch and complain and whine and moan and curse the heavens and say, "Life is unfair" and "Why me?" That's the one payoff for being in the center ring. Everyone else can say those things too, but only to people in larger rings."

first responders/healthcare workers are in the outermost ring of these situations. "comfort in, dump out".

we are human, we feel. some things get easier, some never do.

[prettyrealm]

taylor swift mini personality reading

positives + negatives

+ positives

amazing storyteller & communicator overall (i think this may extend to not just her music, but her speech and how she expresses herself overall) she may even be charming to others in this sense, has a strong connection with animals and has a genuine love for them, stands her ground fiercely - you can’t intimidate her, knows how to get people to trust her & truly understands how important trust and integrity is (she probably knows A LOT of celeb secrets and has actually managed to mostly keep them to herself, because I can also see here that she knows how to use these secrets to her advantage) she can be quite compassionate and generous, devoted and caring towards her loved ones, she’s realistic - knows how to keep a healthy level of distrust for others and knows not to expect loyalty from anyone (i think this is something she figured out with experience) but at the same time she’s always looking for someone or something new & not afraid of a fresh start, loves to keep herself busy & is always up for a new adventure, vigilant & has a genuine love for people/community.

- negatives

major grudge holder (she never truly lets things go), keeps a huge eye on her friends & is extremely scared of her trust being violated or being stabbed in the back (she can freak out because of this & ruin connections due to these suspicions), doesn’t really give herself a chance to “breathe” (she experiences bad things and tries to distract from it by surrounding herself with friendly faces or throwing a party), doesn’t know how to go with the flow (she doesn’t seem like a very chill person at all), likes when people are indebted to her and would prefer to keep it that way (i think she loves hearing people say “taylor did ____ for me!”), pretends to be innocent or a victim to mislead others, forges connections with others purely for personal gain, doesn’t practice what she preaches, knows how to manipulate en masse & is hyper aware of this ability, has a hard time accepting the consequences of her actions, hates getting older, extremely dependent on men for physical and mental security (constant affection is very important to her), will abandon all morals and ethics and do or say anything to win.

[dandelionjack]

mental illness diagnosable by which magnus character you find yourself eerily relating to. i keep lying to myself pretending it’s martin, but really, it’s always been jane

i think what attracted me so much to this podcast which isn’t even all that good is that the drive to become an avatar, writhing searing weaving climbing drowning falling fading monstrosity, is loneliness, the unbearable final stage of it, when you’ve spent so long isolated, estranged from community, from every healthy invigorating aspect of humanity, that you begin to identify with that which intends to destroy it at the promise of making you whole. the ol’ frankenstein’s creature decision, to put it lightly or more accurately.

which isn’t exclusive to this pod by any means, but i do believe that every fear in a sense, or rather every avatar, is driven by “the lonely”, the irredeemable exclusion from humankind to which they were resigned before they, essentially, signed their souls away. jane and her ‘toxicity’, yearning for someone that loves her, that sings to her, for a community based on trust and unconditional acceptance, and finding that in the hive. mike, estranged from his friends and peers and fellow students through the need for constant vigilance, escape from the pursuing lichtenberg figure, a visual manifestation of his trauma, with nothing to turn to for welcome freedom but a foe of equal measure. agnes, dehumanised and worshipped and placed on a pedestal from the start, a sort of icon enshrined in flesh, hopelessly alone by virtue of being the only messiah there is, created to fulfil one purpose, with no attention to free will, to her interiority. eleanor vance martin, with his bitter chronically ill mother, trapped until her death as a carer and nurse, with no education, no prospects for the future, enduring incessant abuse and isolation. i could go on

as someone who has been and still is for various reasons (i know i need therapy and meds. i’m in the process of both those things) completely and totally isolated from my peers and classmates and family……well. it isn’t pretty. it’s not nice. it’s not ‘i love the gay office comedy and ace representation heehee good cows’. and it’s still yeah, there are far better podcasts out there, i hope there comes a day when i can say that none of these characters are magnetic to me at all, where none of this is in any way resonant

[tomthomasblog]

Preparing for Spiritual Battle in Everyday Life

When we think of battles, we often picture soldiers in combat gear, ready to face their enemies. But as Christians, we're called to engage in a different kind of warfare – a spiritual one. In 1 Peter 5:8-9 (NKJV), we're given a sobering reminder: "Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. Resist him, steadfast in the faith, knowing that the same sufferings are experienced by your brotherhood in the world."

This passage vividly describes the spiritual landscape we navigate daily. But how do we practically apply this wisdom to our lives? Let's break it down and explore ways to "armor up" for our spiritual battles.

First, we're called to be sober. This doesn't just mean avoiding excessive alcohol; it's about maintaining clarity of mind and purpose. In our modern world, many things can cloud our judgment – from social media addiction to the constant barrage of information we face. Being sober means intentionally cutting out distractions that keep us from focusing on our spiritual health.

Vigilance is the next key aspect. Just as soldiers on guard duty must stay alert, we must also be watchful of spiritual dangers. This means being aware of our thoughts, actions, and influences. Are we letting negative attitudes creep in? Are we compromising our values bit by bit? Staying vigilant helps us catch these issues early before they become major problems.

Peter describes our adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion. This imagery is meant to instill a healthy fear and respect for the genuine danger we face. Lions are known for their strength and hunting prowess. They often target the weak, isolated, or distracted members of a herd. Similarly, Satan looks for vulnerabilities in our lives—moments of weakness, isolation from our faith community, or times when we're distracted from our spiritual walk.

So, how do we resist this formidable foe? Peter tells us to be "steadfast in the faith." This means grounding ourselves firmly in what we believe. It involves regular study of God's Word, consistent prayer, and active participation in a faith community. We're much more complicated to shake when deeply rooted in our faith.

It's also comforting to know we're not alone in this battle. Peter reminds us that our brothers and sisters in Christ worldwide face similar struggles. This should encourage us to seek support from our faith community and to offer support in return. We're stronger together than we are alone.

In conclusion, preparing for spiritual battle is essential to the Christian life. It requires daily commitment to sobriety of mind, vigilance against threats, and steadfastness in faith. As we face these challenges, remember that we're part of a global community of believers engaged in the same fight. Today, I want to challenge you to take one concrete step toward strengthening your spiritual armor. Whether setting aside time for prayer, reaching out to a fellow believer for support, or identifying an area of vulnerability, take action to prepare yourself for the spiritual battles ahead better forward. Remember, with God on our side, we're equipped to face any challenge that comes our way.

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The Scripture Collection A compilation of 20 uplifting music videos inspired by a different Bible scripture. First Edition: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rv1XEZzrCvE Second Edition: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucV8yJIEsvc

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Website: https://bwpub.net/

I've created the song "Sober Hearts, Vigilant Minds" in three different genres from 1 Peter 5:8-9.

russian salsa https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Azrh88EWMJ0 hyper-motown https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRJgCf97M9E dakar j-pop https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdnXcqDfaaQ

[captain-kit-adventuress]

I feel like I’ve been jumping on your posts a lot lately, @scientia-rex, so please let me know if that’s annoying, but I felt it was important to talk about this one and to give a first-person perspective as to why, even as a very large fat person, bariatric surgery isn’t something we should be pressuring people to have.

I am the kind of person she describes: fat to the point that I struggle with ADLs, or activities of daily living. Even walking more than a few steps is often difficult and sometimes painful, mostly down to the fact that I can’t fully lift my legs all the way and I shuffle against carpet, which causes a lot of feet problems. I am lucky it’s all superficial for now, but I’m always vigilant about skin integrity issues because as the good doctor so rightly says, it’s the barrier between inside and outside. It’s not something you want compromised because it makes it so much easier to fuck up everything else.

The only thing I can reliably do on my own is eating and drinking. Outside of my home, I am 100% in a wheelchair. And I still refuse to entertain the conversation about bariatric surgery. All of the reasons cited above are my reasons, as well, so I won’t waste anyone’s time by restating them. In addition, though, I have IBS. I’ve had it since I was a child—no Rome criteria for paediatrics back then, unfortunately, and what is now known as Rome I wouldn’t be published until 1994; it was adults-only and of no help to me. There would be no peds criteria until 2006, when I was well out of university. I received my diagnosis a few years after that.

I do not have the luxury of messing around with a digestive system which could, on the very best of days, be called “temperamental.” I don’t think anyone has the luxury of messing around with the most primary method of keeping one’s self alive no matter how well their gut functions. There are so, so, so many neurotransmitters and hormones that go between the brain and the gut (some hormones are actually produced in the gut itself) and their potential disruption can and will make life hell even if the surgery goes well, and that is not anywhere close to guaranteed. Gastric bypass in particular effectively introduces a constant disease state to what is otherwise a healthy, functioning organ. My difficulties are hard and I hate them, but to me, they’re still not hard enough to make mutilating a large portion of my digestive tract a viable, attractive option. Especially when there’s very little guarantee I won’t just regain the weight anyway, and I’ll still have IBS which could get much, much worse as the result.

I personally know two people who’ve had two different types of bariatric surgery: one regained all of the weight and more as the result of gastric sleeve failure (which is common!), and the other has so far kept the weight off but is about three steps away from serious malnutrition.

We don’t understand the long-term consequences of many types of bariatric surgery well enough to be recommending it in the numbers we are, especially to people who really don’t need it.

That doesn’t mean there’s nothing I can do to help myself. I can’t afford regular physical therapy sessions, but I was able to have some after a medical procedure, and they gave me instructions and pictures of how to do the exercises at home to help rebuild muscle losses I’ve sustained from other issues I’ve had. I intend to start small walks once I figure out how to get my socks and shoes on without assistance. Even without those walks, I’ve been noticing some gains which encourages me to think that there’s room to build on that.

When it comes to physical fitness, though, there are no quick fixes, and often with weight, nothing we need to fix in the first place. To me, bariatric surgery is not worth the ample and highly-likely risk of complications, especially when I can take a route that is slower but certainly safer, not even when I might be the kind of person who could conceivably benefit from surgery. Of course, that is a highly personal decision for everyone. But nothing I’ve seen makes me confident it’s the right choice even when my body size is disabling.

It is a far better bet in almost every conceivable metric to strengthen the body to support and accommodate the weight than it is to try to make the weight go away.

Hallo!! I really appreciate your blog and how open and invested you are in wellbeing outside of medical fatphobia and other ways medicine as an institution can suck. It's also great to see a humanized side of working in medicine, so thank you for your openness :) You mentioned recently not prescribing bariatric surgery to patients except in rare, specific cases. If you have time and energy, would you be able to share a little more about what you think about bariatric surgery when those particular conditions aren't present? Also please feel free to ignore this ask if you're not up for it. Hope you have a great day! 🌸🌼🌺

When someone is fat to the point where they can't do daily activities of living like dressing themselves, walking, etc., then bariatric surgery probably has a place.

However, bariatric surgery has risks. Lots of them. To start with, there's the on-the-table risks. These are a lot lower than they used to be--anesthesia in this day and age is incredibly safe. Getting to bariatric surgery is challenging for most patients, as insurance in the US will typically only work with a few centers that have wrap-around teams including the surgeons but also other specialists, especially nutritionists. So lots of patients go to Mexico. I haven't had a single one of my own patients, since I started having my own patients four years ago, get from the phase of thinking about bariatic surgery to actually having it done in the US. I've had three patients go to Mexico and have it done. I will withhold judgment, because I haven't been to those centers, I don't know what those doctors and teams are like, but I do know the overall out of pocket cost for patients is about 5 grand, which is so much cheaper than it is in the US that it doesn't bear comparison.

Just-after-surgery risks include blood clots that can go to the lungs or the heart. There is always a risk of wound infection, which can be devastating. If a prolonged hospital stay is required, pneumonia is a significant risk.

Any time you have intra-abdominal surgery, your body develops scar tissue. Places where scar tissue fuses different structures together are called adhesions. Having a re-operation after that is more risky because of those adhesions. You are also at higher risk for intestinal obstruction, because your intestines can hang up on adhesion and twist so that they cut off their own blood supply. This is a surgical emergency. When bowel dies, it becomes leaky and lets dangerous intestinal bacteria into the otherwise sterile environment of the abdomen. That higher risk of intestinal obstruction never goes away.

People who have had bariatric surgery are also at risk for dumping syndrome. This is a condition where the small intestine becomes overly stimulated immediately after a meal, because the food is not moving smoothly through the stomach into the small intestine on the natural time scale. That stimulation leads to excessive insulin release in comparison to the amount of glucose absorbed, which can means hypoglycemia, which is life-threatening.

Rapid fat loss leads to significant amounts of excess skin. Many people who've had bariatric surgery go on to have skin removal surgery. This is actually a riskier surgery than the bariatric surgery itself, because you are tampering with the barrier between the inside of your body and the world outside it. And if it's done too early, you can end up needing your skin to stretch again, and having stretch marks in addition to the scars.

After bariatric surgery, you are also worse at absorbing good nutrients. You need lifetime monitoring for vitamin levels, including vitamin B12. If you don't have enough vitamin B12, your nerves start to die. This results in pain that starts in the feet, since the neurons running from the spinal cord to the big toes are the longest and therefore most susceptible in the body.

But perhaps the most upsetting aspect of bariatic surgery to me is that it is presented as a definitive solution.

Is it?

Not for 20-25% of people who have bariatic surgery, who struggle with significant weight regain.

So if the most extreme intervention we have--literally surgically altering your gut--isn't enough to make weight loss permanent, how is anything else going to do it?

You can be skinny. For a little while. But attempts to lose large amounts of weight, including surgically, have high failure rates. The 75% success rate for bariatic surgery is significantly higher than for any other method currently widely available, but the risks are also significantly higher. I don't think it's worthwhile for most patients, especially given how many patients are lied to by their doctors about how much their weight is likely contributing to their health problems. Most of my patients focus on their weight rather than activity levels, they beat themselves up about how they're not doing intense enough exercise but don't incorporate lower-impact exercises like swimming or walking, they try to eat less rather than eating a diet more rich in vegetables and fruits and lower in highly processed foods. You can do so much for yourself without ever framing it as being about weight.

And if you've done that--if you're struggling with being so fat that you can't live your life--then sure. Talk to your doctor about a referral for bariatric surgery. But don't be shocked if the results are not what you were told to expect. Don't be surprised when you find that you actively resent the people who suddenly find you tolerable, even desirable, now that you're not so fat. Don't let them sell you bariatic surgery as a no-downside cure-all, because it most emphatically is not.

[jnrgloballogistics]

How Do Accomplished Shipping Companies Make A Difference When Shipping Cars To California From Hawaii?

Long-distance vehicle shipping or moving deserves special skills and experience. If you look at it without the necessary inside knowledge, you may find the process simple and easy. Once you take up the challenge, you will get to know about the intimidating complexities. Therefore, assign this task to experienced technicians employed by reliable car shipping companies. How do accomplished shipping service providers make a difference?

Quality Assurance

A reliable shipper's commitment to quality is unquestionable. The best service providers make the process of shipping car to California from Hawaii easy and enjoyable with a meticulous approach. You can find precision in everything they do. Every step involved with the moving process is monitored with utmost accountability. Customers can expect exceptional quality throughout the shipping process.

Client Satisfaction

All requests are handled with timely responses. Personalized services are delivered to keep the clients optimally satisfied. The commitment to maximum customer satisfaction is also demonstrated through various aspects like a single point of contact with decision-making power, transparency in all dealings, innovative high-tech moving solutions, and open communication. The best car moving service providers also conduct frequent reviews and assessments to ensure that the performance surpasses the expectations of their esteemed customers.

Skilled Team

All the dedicated technicians are highly proficient in their specific areas. They perform moving services with sincere concern for their clients. The team packs, loads, moves, and unloads the vehicle with tremendous care and vigilance. All their team members are devoted, dedicated, trained, and experienced professionals. You can always expect safe and reliable services from them. The ideal combination of skills, experience, and dedication takes the quality of craftsmanship to the next level. Further, these technicians undergo constant training and attend various workshops to study the ever-emerging innovative methods in the industry.

Responsible Loading and Unloading Services

The task of loading and unloading vehicles is extremely vital. It is a risky and laborious process. Top movers use the most advanced tools and technology to make both loading and unloading safe and accurate. So, you should not worry about damage or even minor unwanted scratches. They handle every item with the right attention and care to make shipping to Hawaii result driven. The skilled technicians know how to load and unload every vehicle with optimal safety. They follow the industry-defined parameters strictly to live up to the expectations of each client.

There is no substitute for quality and safety when it comes to shipping vehicles. Accomplished vehicle shipping service providers guarantee safety and reliability with their impeccable moving solutions. These professionals deliver what the customer wants with 100% accountability and responsibility. Their prime focus is to provide the best customer experience. This approach helps them develop fruitful and healthy business relationships with customers for a long time.

Source Link: https://www.ganjingworld.com/news/how-do-accomplished-shipping-companies-make-a-difference-when-shipping-cars-to-california-from-hawaii/1ghmqnl1s4rJs5RZB0U6QVy5v1n41c

[bloodanddiscoballs]

So, I think it's possible to accidentally parrot ideology long before actually sliding into the harmful group that they are parroting from, and I think that anyone and everyone can be guilty of this.

You being a part of one marginalized group does not automatically mean that you are exempt from this. Having hateful messages packaged in a way that is all about keeping others safe or standing up to something/someone is exactly how dangerous ideologies get traction and how all harmful groups grow. In an age where we are being told that you must always be angry about something, it is even easier for this method of spreading to work. I've seen various people fully parrot things that TERFs say, just adding a more LGBT friendly twist to it. I've seen disabled people say ableist things but frame it in a way that clearly shows that they don't think they're being ableist. I've heard various People of Color be racist, both backhandedly and fully, to other People of Color and act as if they aren't because they said it in a way that, in their mind, wasn't racist. I've watched as people from all of these different groups spout harmful ideology about people from other marginalized groups packaged in a way that sounded completely different and almost helpful/positive. Almost.

Look, harmful ideas are not always put in front of you in black and white packaging. Sometimes, it's going to be incredibly obvious to you. Don't ignore those moments. Call it out for what it is and act accordingly. However, don't assume that this is the only way that harmful messages are introduced into society. In fact, more often than not, it's the sneaky method that you will come into contact with, especially nowadays. Messages need to be palatable in order for them to be adopted into one's belief system and into society as a whole. You and I are never going to be immune to this tactic. You and I are not above being duped by those who want to hurt others.

It takes constant work and utilizes your critical thinking skills with everything you read. I'm not about to tell you that this can't be exhausting because it can! Sometimes, you're just not in the mood to work everything over in your mind and ask serious questions. That's ok! In those moments, I think it's healthy to say, "I need to come back to this" when faced with articles, posts, videos, etc. that require your attention. This also means not reblogging posts blindly. Misinformation is spread like wildfire on social media and quickly takes on a life of its own. We've watched this happen here on Tumblr many times. All I'm saying is that just because something is written or spoken with the language of the oppressed group does not mean that it is not harmful. Just because it is written or spoken by a member of an oppressed group does not mean that it is not harmful. Learn to pick apart the message. Learn to see how something has been rephrased. Learn to identify a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Finally, learn how to say that you were wrong or that you hurt others. None of us are perfect, and it does no good to pretend like we've never been in the wrong. Life is a constant journey of bettering yourself. It's healthy to look back on a younger you and be embarrassed about some of the things you've said or done. It means you've grown! Acknowledge, educate yourself, and do better. Be vigilant.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. 

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

[adorerdraco]

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: PART 5 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and figuring out how to survive his new life while finding out a way to keep you in it. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, torture, blood, death eater stuff - the usual ! 

Words: 7.8K

A/N: FINDING WAYS TO PROLONG THIS SERIES !!!! 😼 AND SORRY IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES ITS VERY LATE AND I NEVER CATCH THEM 😔 but omg my little week long hiatus I took was against my will but i’m back and healthy again and can finally think out sentences again lmao !!! also i DO own gif 

Draco stared at the vast, dark marble ceiling as he lied awake. His black silk sheets were strewn across his king bed in a lofty heap from when he had woken up. There was a sheen layer of sweat across his skin, but his room held no warmth and the draft that was coming in from his open windows was nothing less than freezing.

There wasn’t a moment where he had enough peace to sleep, but when he ultimately did; he always regretted ever drifting off when he felt the hot, ravenous feeling that ran through his body when he would jolt awake from a nightmare with his heart thundering against him and the inability to differentiate reality from a subconscious image. He would lie back down, breathing unevenly, and fixate on a random crack in the ceiling and let his now very tortured conscience remind him, “it all happened, you can't escape it!”

And that little malicious voice in his head was right. The horrible images in his mind weren’t made up or conjured by his brain - they were very real and he had lived through them.

He remembered the agonizing decision he had to make when he left the love of his life, jinxed and in hysterics in an abandoned classroom. He remembered his Headmaster, who he had cornered and disarmed who still offered him genuine help and guidance despite the wand pointed in his face. He remembered his once-favorite Professor, kill his Headmaster who he thought for maybe a second would be able to help him. He remembered bounding down the steps of the astronomy tower, wanting to topple over and vomit while he followed closely behind a billowing cape and several sniggering and smug Death Eaters into the halls of the unsuspecting school. He remembered his aunt wreaking havoc on the Great Hall with pure joy as he could only watch in horror while she shattered the windows in her celebration. He remembered walking through a maze of trees in a dazed stupor towards Hagrid’s hut, Bellatrix giggling maniacally beside him as she skipped past him. He remembered seeing Harry run towards them, hurling any hexes and curses he could think of towards Snape while he scurried off. He remembered meeting his mother at the momentarily failing barrier, her hand wrapping tightly around his arm before she apparated them home. He remembered the cold wooden floors underneath him and the way the Manor’s structure seemed to be crashing down onto him as he tried to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

When he would finish going over every mistake he had made that night, and every choice he could have made instead, he would turn over in his bed and stare out the large window in his room where he could see the cloudy night sky and the nature swinging around in the wind like it was in a constant state of what seemed like an approaching tornado. He would wonder about you, and what you were doing and what you thought of him. He wondered if you meant what you said - if you would truly never forgive him for leaving you there. He wondered if you thought it was him who killed Dumbledore and how you probably saw him as a killer now. He was in ceaseless disarray of wonder, a painful wonder that he couldn’t escape.

He didn’t dare try to owl you, especially with Bellatrix around the house as a very vigilant guard dog that noticed anything and everything. There were barely any opportunities in which he could leave the Manor, not by foot, by broom, or apparate. He was a prisoner in his own home, just as much as he was in his mind. The increasing amount of Death Eaters that came and went every day made him feel more unsettled than ever, all of them giving him intimidating and sneering looks as if he was a joke while they forcefully turned the Manor into their place of 'work'.

The day Lucius was released from Azkaban, Draco felt a slight hope that things would improve, that his father could somehow find a way to fix things for them as he always had and the young boy could finally step down from the responsibility he felt for his family. But what he saw in the foyer of his home wasn’t Lucius Malfoy; influential, formidable and feared by many - he saw a shell of a man who had lost all sense of who he was and had paid greatly for his failures. He recalled how his father had embraced him in a weak and shuddering hug, clinging onto him as a spew of desperate words incessantly flew from his mouth without making much sense. 

He knew immediately then that his father couldn’t swoop in and fix all his problems, and his mother couldn’t be left alone in all this. He was stuck, whether he liked it or not, and he had to follow through on anything and everything the Dark Lord expected from him or wanted out of his family.

He hated the way his home was defiled with death and wickedness. He hated the way there were lifeless bodies littered around the living room sometimes. He hated the echoing cries and pleas of those who were locked up in the dungeon below. He hated seeing Voldermort use his home as his headquarters, pacing the room in a self-given majesty and humiliating his father every chance he could get. The only reason the Malfoys weren’t killed off yet was, in Draco’s opinion, to be used as an example of what happens when you fail the Dark Lord, to be used as malicious entertainment, and to see just how far someone could be tortured from the inside. Draco did mend the cabinet, but he didn’t kill Dumbledore or die trying as his master had desired. He was always visibly apprehensive of everything he had to do and every order he was given. He wasn’t willingly cruel or vile and hated the idea of actually hurting anyone. His father had failed every mission he was given, and his mother wasn’t a Death Eater, to begin with. They were just there, as pawns and as sadistic pleasure. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was subsequently, a rare day that the Manor was empty. No one was walking through the halls or running their mucky shoes on the expensive upholstery of the furniture as they relaxed into it. Even his father was out, along with Bellatrix, which left only him and his mother at home.

Narcissa Malfoy was just as arrogant as her husband, valued the pro-pure-blood ideals she grew up with, and always appeared to be very cold and haughty. Yet there was one thing that she valued above most; her family. She was entirely devoted to her son and husband and loved them profoundly. It was for Draco she worried for the most and would do anything for. It was for Draco she would risk everything for and go against the Dark Lord for. 

So on the night she brought her son back home, and he was breaking down in her arms with cries about a girl she had never heard of - it piqued her curiosity more than she wanted to admit. She had asked Draco who you were a handful of times since that night, but he always refused to answer. She even went as far as asking Snape, pulling him aside one night behind a dark pillar in her home as everyone was leaving and whispered secretly to him.

“Severus, I know I’ve asked too much of you already but I need to know this,” she rushed to say in a very hushed and imperceptible tone but she knew he had heard her. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her quizzically. 

“What might that be?”

“On the night Draco came home, he was calling out for someone,” she began, “do you know if he was involved with anyone by the name of Y/N?”

She could have sworn she saw a twinge of muscles move in his cheek, but he only shook his head shortly from side to side.

“I apologize, Narcissa, but I know no student by that name,” he sighed. “Draco spent most of his time mending the vanishing cabinet, I doubt he had time to be venturing out in his love life.”

She wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t brush off the intuition that was beating against her gut, nearly screaming at her that she was being lied to and there was more to the story. It’s not like she wanted the information to hurt you or to judge, she simply wanted to know who had broken through to her son during the year he was the most closed off. Who had impacted him so greatly, that now that it was seemingly over left him in shambles and withdrawn almost completely. If anything, she wanted to help. And if there was a possibility where she could, she would help Draco take it if it meant it would make his life easier. There was nothing more she wanted for him, free of pain and filled with hope, and if a certain individual would help her get him there - she would be willing to see it through.

With the opportunity of everyone gone, Narcissa trailed up to Draco’s room, letting her knuckles fall softly against the wooden double doors three times.

“Draco, dear, would you like to join me on a walk?”

She heard a shuffling from behind the door and a sharp sniffle, taking in a deep breath to prepare herself to see his poorly hidden tears that she knew she would be met with.

As she predicted, the doors opened and the blond stepped out of his room, lowering his red-rimmed eyes to the ground so he wouldn’t have to meet her worried gaze. He looked well-groomed as always, but she took notice that his skin seemed gray and dull. His eye bags were deep and nearly black from all his crying and lack of sleep. When she linked her arm through his, she felt the slight weight he had unwillingly lost in the past month that he’s been home. Her mind was spinning with concern, promising herself there that she was ready to do whatever she could for him, anything she could.

She led them out of their cold and darkened home, stepping out into the gardens that sat behind the Manor in a large vastness of gorgeous flower arrangements of whites, greens, and reds. There was a large marble fountain placed in the middle of the garden, spewing water smoothly from a small bowl that spilled into a larger one beneath it. It was boxed in with stone and surrounded with red amaryllis flowers, giving anyone enough space to sit around it without being splattered by droplets of water. 

It was a gloomy day, but a warm afternoon sun had peaked through the clouds and cast a glowy light around the house that she hadn’t seen in ages. It made her feel hopeful as she walked her and Draco through the garden, thinking of ways on how to approach him. She knew he had shot her down and changed the subject every time she brought up your name, even if it was in privacy, and she pleaded to the stars that this would ultimately be the chance she would get to find out. 

When they reached the fountain, she sat them down and watched as Draco slouched, silent and staring distantly at his shoes.

“Dear, I know you hate for me to bring this up,” she started slowly, shaking her head as she spoke, “but I want to know who she is. I want to be able to help you, and maybe even her. I know you’re in love, I see it in your eyes and I see it now that you’re apart. I know everything else certainly applies to how you’re feeling, but there’s a look for heartbreak, and you have it.”

Draco looked up at her, finally peering into her worried eyes as he contemplated what she said and what she offered. The last time he told someone about you, he was reprimanded and denied any sort of help, only suggestions for abandonment were given. He wanted to tell his mother all about you, but he wished it was under happier circumstances, however. 

He wished it would be him coming home during the summer, no Voldermort or Death Eaters in his life or his family’s, and arriving with you by his side after sending an owl to his parents about the new love in his life he wanted them to meet. He would boast about you and your smarts, care, ambitions, and beauty. He would make sure his parents understood just how important you were to him and just how amazing you truly were. He imagined their inevitable surrender and allowing him to invite you on one of their luxurious trips to somewhere beautiful and expensive. He pictured a yacht ride in Italy, your skin glowing and your smile bright as you gazed at him in delight under a warm summer sun. Or a grandeur trip to France, walking around the Parisian streets with you as he spoiled you with gifts and delicious gourmet food while ending the night under the Eiffel Tower. He wanted to see you leave on shopping trips with his mother, the two of you coming back with heavy bags and new memories while his mother would walk by him and secretly whisper, “I love her!” to him. He wanted to flaunt you, and boast and gloat all about you - but the circumstances now were dreadful, and to talk about how he had failed you made him want to cry all over again. 

His mother waited patiently for his reply, clasping her hands together in her lap as he stayed quiet while he decided. He was so used to sulking and torturing himself on his own in the past month, that seeing a genuine look of concern and desire to help pushed him into making his final resolve.

“I met her around the beginning of last year,” he breathed out finally, “her name is Y/N Y/L/N, we had a Potions class together but I met her in one of the corridors where we accidentally bumped into each other. I sprained a finger trying to catch myself and she healed it without a second thought. She wants to be a Healer at St. Mungo’s after Hogwarts, and she’s very skilled with her wand. She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met and the kindest. She always listened to me, and helped me, and encouraged me. She always reassured me when I needed it, and if it weren’t for her I don’t think I would have mended the cabinet or even had the energy to wake up every day. She stayed with me even when I told her the truth about everything. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way she does, I can’t explain it, she makes me feel-”

“Alive?” His mother softly finished for him. “She makes you feel alive.”

“Yes,” he nods fervently, “I love her and I failed her. I don’t think there’s anything I can do now and neither can you.”

“I beg to differ,” she briskly interjects. “It’s never too late for anything, Draco. There’s always an opportunity to make things right, as long as you try. She at least deserves an explanation and an apology, and it will be up to her to decide what she wants to do. She sounds wonderful, and I’m glad you met someone who brings out your best.”

Draco agreed wordlessly, his tears sitting at the brink of his eyelids begging to be released as he mulled over everything that was said. He knew where you lived, having learned the fact somewhere in your relationship when you were talking about your childhood and where you were from. He knew the place you called home and the address that came with it that you constantly reminded him of in hopeful jokes that he would visit you over the summer.

“There’s no one here, no one would know you’re gone,” Narcissa encourages swiftly as if she knew what he was thinking about. “It’ll be a few hours before anyone returns. Go to her.”

“But if I become involved with her again, he’ll find out, won’t he?” He insinuates in distress. “The reason I left her was to keep her safe from him, I don’t want her anywhere near this.”

“He won’t find out,” she promised, “I’ll make sure of it. Go.”

There was a hopeful and elating sensation that ran through his veins as he stood up, turning back to look at his mother as she nodded at him optimistically. He suddenly lunged towards her, giving her a tight hug and muttering thank you’s to her like a broken record before running out of the garden towards the front gate of the Manor.

As soon as he reached his exit, he used his newfound Death Eater ability to half-apparate himself into a thick black cloud of smoke that allowed him to fly over to where you were - not giving a care in the world if he were seen by muggles as he recklessly took every shortcut he knew towards your hometown.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There was a slight breeze in the cloudy air that brought you comfort. It was cold, but refreshing - a sharp contrast against the burning feeling that never seemed to leave your body. You were back home now, in your small little town in England that held little to no wizards.

You spent a lot of your time wandering around the local stores and cafes nearby, mingling with strangers as you told them fake life stories for fun. There was also the small forest behind your house you regularly enjoyed, and all the small hidden creatures that you encountered along the way. You always brought along your family cat, the chunky orange tabby always finding his way for you outside of the forest when you got too far in, or if he sensed there was nearby danger and would warn you. Sometimes you would talk to him, complain to him about everything that was bothering you and he would respond to you now and then with broken meows and chirps that made you feel like he understood, even though he didn’t. It made you feel less alone.

Of course, you had your family that worried over your changed behaviors. They weren’t oblivious. They noticed the puffy eyes, the sniffles, and the quiet sobs that escaped under the space of your bedroom door when they would pass by in the middle of the night to get a glass of water from the kitchen. They noticed your sudden quietness, and your lack of interest in everything and hardly found you in the house. You were always out and about, trying to find anything and anyone to distract yourself from what was going on in your mind.

 It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to your family, even though they had incessantly offered their support, you just knew they wouldn’t understand. They would want to know about Draco, his family, and their beliefs. They would eventually figure out of his involvement with the Dark Lord and the looming second Wizarding war. They wouldn’t approve, and you didn’t want to hear the scolding you would get for ever giving him the time of day. You were bitter enough as it was, and the last thing you wanted to hear was how bad Draco was and how you were better off without him.

But even if you were supposed to be better off without him, a life where he wasn’t in it didn’t feel good at all. It felt empty and lost. You were used to his presence always being around you and how he was always a few minutes away from you. He was always available to you for anything and willingly; for company, affection, comfort, reassurance, love, everything. You hated the fact that you let yourself get attached, especially when you knew deep down the direction the relationship was going in.

There were days when you would wake up okay. Days where your mind blocked out your feelings entirely, including Draco and all the memories that came with him. There were days when you felt like you had finally forced yourself to move on, but always finding it to wear off when you’d clamber into bed at night and your brain started illustrating everything you didn’t want to remember. The silver band bracelet he had gifted you was in constant movement from your wrist and jewelry box, hidden on the days you wanted to forget him or sitting pretty on your skin on the days you missed him the most. As much as it hurt to think about him and remember him, you couldn’t stop the way your whole being drifted towards him.

You were currently stepping over a big fallen tree trunk covered in thick green moss, your cat following closely by your leg as he pranced and jumped over all his obstacles. You walked mindlessly around the greenery, not taking notice in the shape of the leaves of the fern you were placing your hand upon to move out of your way. It wasn’t until you felt the sharpened ends of the leaves dig deep into your skin that made you recoil your hand back in pain, a slight hiss leaving your mouth as a small gash began to form with blood flowing quickly upwards out of the new cut. Your hand was held in the air as you frantically looked around for anything that would stop the bleeding that was now dripping sleekly down your arm.

“Stupid ministry and underage magic,” you mutter under your breath. Your wand was in your pocket, begging to be used, but the idea of being sent a letter from the ministry that was now under the Voldermort's control quickly dispersed any desire you had to use it. “Come on, kitty. Let’s go back home, please.”

'Home' was a word the cat did understand. He bumped your leg with his head before meowing loudly at you as he began trotting off to your right side towards the exit of the forest. He moved stealthily, dodging in and out of everything that was in his path as you attempted to follow in his cleared steps. Every time you would trip or rest briefly, he would stop ahead of you and wait until you would walk towards him again before he started back on the journey.

When you finally saw your house in the distance, you sighed in relief at the thought of your first aid kit waiting patiently for you in the bathroom cupboard. And belatedly, your feet hit the stone path that led home, skipping slightly with your hand in the air before nearly toppling over your cat as he stopped abruptly in your path. You moved out of the way, last minute, and very clumsily before eyeing him suspiciously.

He was looking up at the sky, his ears pulled back and the fur on his back straightening up as his eyes frantically searched around the clouds above him. He wasn’t hissing like he normally did when he felt something dangerous coming, he looked more confused and alert than anything. You searched the sky with him for a minute before concluding he was being too wary so you bent down and pick him up with your uninjured hand, nearly scooping him into your arms until he carefully swiped at your arm.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s nothing there,” you exclaim at him irritably. You were stumped, on one hand, literally, you were still bleeding though it had significantly slowed down and was now just coagulated blood, and on the other hand, you couldn’t leave the cat outside because of the number of dead critters he left in his past outdoor ventures around the yard and his sometimes week-long disappearances that left everyone in the house worried.

In just a few seconds of your thinking, he had sprung forward and rushed towards the large open field that was a few feet away from your house. Although it was summer, it had been rainy and allowed the grassy field to flourish in tall and wild greenery. This did not help as you watched the fluff of orange disappear into the small jungle that lied ahead and you began to sprint after him, spotting his bushy tail in your vision every time he jumped over something. If you could use magic, this little ordeal would have gone much more different - but you couldn’t.

You chased him until the very near end of the field, spotting him sitting calmly as he looked back at you as if he was expecting you. Rolling your eyes, you reached towards him again to pick him up, if he wanted to go back to the house scratching and biting then so be it. You trained your gaze on him, trying your best to grab him as carefully and as slyly as you could. But as soon as your hand landed on the silky fur of his back, you heard a soft whooshing sound a few feet away in front of you and a very audible shuffle of dead grass crunching underneath someone's shoes as they moved slowly. 

You didn’t look up, all of a sudden feeling scared at who could have magically appeared in front of you, and instead, you waited for your cat to hiss and attack, but he sat himself down in a loaf as if he were in the most comfortable place in existence. This is when you looked up, and the sight before you was like an invisible force that knocked you onto your bottom as you jumped back in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

What was supposed to sound like a concerned question, came out a little ruder than you had intended, almost seething at the boy that was fearfully staring down at you.

“I’m sorry,” Draco ran his hands over his pallid face in distress, “I shouldn’t have come.”

There was an awkwardness that hung in the air. The two of you were finally where you had wanted to be, together, but now that you were face-to-face it couldn’t have been more perplexing. He didn’t know how to begin, and you weren’t sure if you should even listen to him. It was like a weird staring competition, he was taking in everything about you as you were doing the same to him. It was obvious you were both a wreck, and the damage was apparent on him the most as he was dealing with his Death Eater status now more than ever.

“Your hand is bleeding,” he stated suddenly. You didn’t have time to answer before he had cautiously walked over to you and sat down beside you in a flattened patch of grass. “Let me see it.”

Like magnets, your hand instantly fell into his cold grasp without you thinking about it. You eyed him carefully and quietly, observing him as he turned your injured hand over in his and inspected your gash like you had done many times in the past for him. You didn’t stop him when he took his wand out of his pocket and waved it over your wound, murmuring a familiar spell that closed the cut with ease, a small pink scar left in its place. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you say lightly. “Thank you.”

“I learned from the best,” he smiles faintly. 

Neither of you moved from your sitting spots, and neither of you said anything. He would meet your eyes now and then and search them with such a pained expression that it took everything in you not to just throw yourself into his arms and cry in relief that he was there.

“I know it was Snape who killed Dumbledore and not you,” you break the silence apprehensively. “Harry told me.”

“Potter told you?” He grimaced, but he let out a breath of relief. “I would’ve thought the git would have loved to throw me under the bus. I didn’t even know he was there, then I see him chasing us down-”

“Draco, why are you here?” You asked him again, gingerly this time and cutting him off from his rambling in hopes that he would just cut to the chase on his unannounced appearance. He sighed, looking down at his now muddy, once expensive dress shoes.

“I needed to see you,” he answers honestly. “And I wanted to apologize for how I left things.”

You peered up at him with a raised eyebrow, bringing your knees up to your chest so you could rest your head against them as you faced him. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m serious,” he frowned. “I’m sorry I used my wand against you. I’m sorry I shut you out. I’m sorry I left without giving you much of an explanation. I’m sorry I abandoned you and disappeared off the face of the Earth. I’m sorry I broke my promise that I would never leave you again.”

“Draco-”

“No, wait, I need you to understand that I thought leaving you was the only thing that would keep you safe. I would have never forgiven myself if I let you die for trying to help me, even if you say you’re ready to accept whatever fate is in store for you, I’m not. But I don’t want to run anymore, I don’t want to be away from you, I can’t do it and I always think I can let you go for your safety, but I can’t.”

There was a brief period of stillness as you contemplated his apology. Your head moved to fall in between your knees as your hands began to fiddle with the long strands of grass beneath you. You were stripping it and pulling at it, hoping that there would be a hidden message underneath the earth that would give you an answer on what to say or what to do, but it wasn’t possible. The only thing you found was the loose pitiful tears slipping down your face that seeped into spots of dry soil. Draco stayed wordless beside you, the only sound coming from him was uneven breaths as he stressed over your reaction.

You were caught in between wanting to give in, wanting to forgive him, and hug him and kiss him to make up for all the tortuous time lost, but there was also a part of you that was now afraid to trust. You wanted to, so badly, but everything felt so unpredictable. You weren’t sure whether you could handle him leaving again if he had to. And if he were to die at the end of all of this? There was no way you’d be able to recover from a loss like that. He was on an unforeseeable path that held no clear outcome.  

“I’m scared, Dray,” you sniffle, closing your eyes tightly as you began to answer him. “We’re not kids anymore fooling around at school. Everything is getting more real by the day. How am I supposed to be comfortable with the idea that you might-”

You stopped yourself from finishing, a soft sob escaping your throat at the near mention of his possible death. You felt him scoot closer to you, stopping about a few inches away from your shuddering body as he placed a reassuring hand on your lower back.

“You say you can’t accept the decision I made when I said I’m ready for whatever fate lies ahead of me,” you mumble miserably. “Well, I can’t accept yours either.”

“I won’t make any more promises I can’t keep,” he starts warily, “but I can promise you that as long as I’m around, I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever. And as far as my future goes, I promise that I’ll do everything and anything I can to survive this.”

You had unhooked your arms from around your legs, bringing them underneath you as you sat yourself up to face him better. He was staring at you intently, hopeful gray eyes boring into yours with every emotion under the sun flashing through them. He didn’t show it, but he felt like at any moment he was going to faint. He had never seen such uncertainty on your face and it killed him, but he tried to remain stoic as he spoke and kept a brave face at every concern you had. He couldn’t guarantee you anything that lied ahead, but there was also nothing he wouldn’t do for you now.

“Okay,” you agree, finally giving him the consolation he had been woefully praying for. “I believe you, we can get through this together.”

There wasn’t another second spared before you speedily moved out of your sitting position to pounce him with a tight and suffocating hug. It was desperate and smothering, his arms wrapped tightly around your lower back as he pressed you deeply into his body as if you were going to disappear any second.

You didn’t care that you could barely breathe against his chest or that your knee was digging into the mud below you. It was the most relieving feeling in the world, finally being in his arms again with new hopes and possibilities that always found a way to present themselves. It was one of the many reasons that you knew he was the one for you. Everything with him felt easy, even if the world was crashing down around you. He could melt away all your pain and worries with one look, touch, or words. He felt like home and heaven all in one.

It came to you in the middle of your longing hug, that there was always going to be something looming over the two of you in the current state that the wizarding world was in. There’s no point in wasting time when everything could change overnight, just as it had that unforsaken day at Hogwarts before you were dragged home the next day. There was no reason for trying to stay away from him when it was everything you wanted and you knew then that you needed to take advantage of whatever time you had left with him.

“I'm sorry for saying I would never forgive you that night,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “And for being stubborn.”

“You had all the right to be angry with me,” he laments.

“But it didn’t make it okay,” you nuzzle yourself deeper in his embrace, frowning to yourself as you recalled the night.

He looked down at you, a pang of guilt hitting him when he saw the corners of your lips pulled down in sadness. He leaned down and carefully placed a kiss on your temple, lingering for a bit before moving away and muttering, “nothing about that night was okay.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

There wasn’t an inkling of an idea how long the two of you were sat outside, holding on tightly to each other as you filled each other in on any news that happened in the last month since you’ve seen each other. The only indication that let the two of you know that time had surely passed was that the sun had begun setting behind the valley in the distance. The moon now had a faint appearance in the purplish evening sky that was for the first time in a while, free of the heavy cloud covers.

You listened attentively as he told you about the Manor and how it was being used as a Death Eater meeting place. He told you about his father being released from Azkaban as a treat for the Malfoy’s since he had fixed the cabinet and disarmed Dumbledore for Snape to finish, unknowing to him that he would. He explained to you how ghostly he felt when he was venturing out of the school that night. He even scarcely described the horror that had gone on in the dead of night, when victims had been brought back to the house for ‘interrogations’ and the way their screams would keep him wide awake for days.

You nearly felt sick to your stomach the longer he went on, empathizing with him delicately when he would sometimes stop talking to take a deep painful shaky breath. The guilt that was eating away at him wasn’t hidden or pushed down, he expressed it very obviously and you couldn’t picture how he managed to hold a straight face in the sea of terrors he had encountered.

“You’re nothing like them,” you whispered tenderly to him when you saw the distant broken look that clouded his eyes. “You are good, Draco. Not once have I ever changed my mind about that.”

He was slipping, far and fast into the depths of his despair. His new life away from school was eating away at him now that he was forced to experience it upfront. He wasn’t cut out for it, nor did he want anything to do with it. It physically pained you that there was nothing you could do except offer him what you’ve always been able to provide; a listening ear and to remind him that he’s not the evil monster he deludes himself to be. 

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” he mumbled gloomily, taking your hand into his as he turned to look at you. “I want to hear about you and your summer.”

“It wasn’t pleasant or anything, honestly,” you shrug, “I spent most of it in the village nearby and the forest behind my house with my cat, who by the way knew you were coming somehow.”

You both suddenly turned to look for the orange tabby who had seemingly disappeared without either of you noticing sometime throughout the evening. 

“Where is the little critter so I can thank him for leading you to me,” he chuckled softly as you rolled your eyes.

“He’s probably back at home now but I’ll pass the message,” you bite back a smirk.

Draco felt the familiar fluttering of pixies in his stomach as he looked at you, a sense of exhilaration and delight shocking his body from its usual anguished state. He was so far gone in you and he never wanted to leave the feelings you left him with and with such little effort. He couldn’t count how many times he had the same thought in his head when he was around you, much like your own, he knew with you was where he was at his calmest and his happiest. It was like a chunk of agony being released from him that made him feel like he could breathe again without feeling like he was going to drown. Even if it was just for a few hours, he was always grateful for moments he shared with you and the comfort you brought him.

“I love you,” he said dazed, eyes locking onto yours intimately. “I hope you know that.”

"I love you,” you repeated, a coy smile making its way onto your features. 

“You know,” his thumb began mindlessly running over your knuckles as he spoke, “if it wasn’t for my mother knocking some sense into me earlier, I wouldn’t have had the great idea to show up here.”

He looked over at you when he felt you tense up completely, slightly worried at first before a small amusement quickly replaced his fear when he noticed you were gaping at him with wide wondrous eyes. 

“You told her about me?”

“All about you,” he nods, “I accidentally let your name slip a while back and she’s been asking me about you ever since. I didn’t want to say anything in case someone heard, but everyone was gone today and she got it out of me.”

“What did she say about me?” You asked him timidly as if it was the most important thing in the world for you.

He chortled quietly at your nervousness, “she said she thinks you’re wonderful and she’s glad we met. She pushed me to come and make things right with you and she offered to look out for us.”

There was an intense delight that beat against your chest at his answer. The only other person in his life who’s opinion he valued the most above all had made one about you, and it was one that was better than anything you could have ever hoped for. Narcissa Malfoy had vouched for you before she’s even properly met you and it left you feeling astounded and beyond appreciative.

“When you get home, please send her my regards,” you plead heartily, your hands clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket as he laughed lightly. 

“I will, I will,” he smiles, “I have to be home soon, so she’ll hear about it within the next half hour.”

Draco pulled you up with him as he stood up, both of you finally stretching out your limbs with groans and sighs of relief from the tension of sitting for so long.

As you peered up at him, you let your hands slide up into the platinum blond strands that looked brighter than ever under the now bright moonlight. He placed a hand over one of your wrists, a smile growing on his face as he noticed the silver band sitting warmly against your skin. He leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, letting himself stay there for a minute as he tried to revel in the last few moments of peace he was going to try and prolong for the rest of his night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazed delicately over your cheekbone as you leaned into his touch. “Right back with you.”

“I’ll be waiting, Malfoy,” you grin.

For the first time that night, he ducked down and pressed his lips soft against yours. The gentleness quickly dissipated into longing and fervor as he kissed you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do, seeking the closeness and union he missed so desperately. Neither of you made any move to pull apart as you melted into each other, basking completely in the feeling of being so close to one another like this again.

If it wasn’t for you worrying about his timely arrival back home before everyone, you would have allowed him to keep you like that forever. But much to your dismay, you tapped him lightly against his chest that let him know it was really time for him to leave if he wanted to keep his secret trip, secret.

You stood there sadly, watching him as he unwillingly backed away from you and whispered one more goodbye to you before he disappeared into the sky in a ghost of black smoke, the aroma of his cologne still lingering in the air and a swollen feeling against your lips that left you feeling fuzzy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

The Malfoy Manor was staring eerily back at Draco when he finally arrived back in front of the main gate of the home. It was deathly quiet and dark, only a small light could be seen from the living room as he approached further into the property.

He swiftly ran up the steps, hand falling carefully onto the brass doorknob of the front entrance, stopping in his tracks completely when he heard a mixture of hushed angry voices.

“I told you, Bella,” he heard his mother exclaim fiercely. “He only went out to clear his head.”

“Clear his head of what?” his aunt sneered. “He’s falling weak, Cissy. He should be running around in joy that the Dark Lord has him in his inner circle.”

“My son is not weak, don’t you think this can all be a little overwhelming for someone who hasn’t even finished his schooling?” His mother defended him and he could picture the exact sneer on her face as she spoke.

“I want to know where he went,” Bellatrix says hotly, “he’s been gone too long.”

Draco ran through a list of excuses in his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he decided on one and put on a straight face as he turned the doorknob, cautiously stepping into the dimly lit living room where both his parents and aunt were waiting for him.

“Ah, there he is,” his father announced as he was the first one to see the boy clambering inside.

“I’m sorry I went off for so long,” Draco spoke up before anyone could ask. “I remember someone mentioning they had spotted Potter around a village nearby so I tried to go look for him.”

“Did you?” Bellatrix chastised. “And nothing?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged with a feigned annoyance.

“And you were alone?” She added with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, all by myself.”

Narcissa gave her sister a pointed look as she walked up to Draco, hand gripping tightly onto his arm before leading him away from the surprise interrogation and towards the foot of the stairs where she stopped him hastily.

“How did it go?” She asked almost inaudibly.

“Y/N sends her regards,” he whispered, “thank you.”

He gave his mother a warm hug good night before he hurriedly bounded up the stairs, looking down towards the living room once more where Bellatrix was eyeing him carefully. He decided on giving her a curt nod before vanishing into his bedroom and letting himself fall against the shut double doors, a large exhale of relief slipping past his lips as he was now safe to freely recall the night with a dazed smile he didn’t want to let go of.

PART 6

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APOLOGIES IF I FORGOT ANYONEEE 🥺 BUT I REALLY HOPE EVERYONE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER EVEN THO IT WASNT TOOO EVENTFUL ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I GOT ACTION FOR THE NEXT PIECES THO JUST WAITTTT

[bigskydreaming]

Since you mentioned the constant plot lines of Dick subjected to mind fuckery, does Dick ever think about "Am I really in control right now" while doing something normal like making breakfast. Is he questioning constantly if he actually made that choice for himself? *calls up trusted telepaths and mystics to safeguard Dick's mind forever and ever*

Absolutely. I headcanon that Dick’s built up something of an obsessive habit about constantly looking for new meditative techniques, brain tricks and methods of trying to train his mind to be more resistant to external intrusion/manipulation, like in his downtime his brain is always busy working on that never-ending puzzle of trying to constantly figure out new ways of how to tell that he’s not himself or he’s being influenced by someone or something else. So he’s never reliant on stagnated or outdated ideas or techniques or becoming complacement that he’s alone in his head.

Its a very specific, very weird kind of hyper-vigilance, and it is absolutely not healthy but it is what it is and he doesn’t see any alternative to it. He just doesn’t know how to feel safe and confident in the idea that his mind is impregnable, his will is his own and no one is out to manipulate his thoughts....because its too often been proven that when it comes to him, none of these things are true. It sucks, but no matter how often Dick is perceived as an optimist by others, he’s a realist as much as he can be, and he feels better, more in control, more empowered by being vigilant and proactive about safeguarding and double-checking his thoughts. Because he knows from experience how much greater a toll it takes on him in the aftermath of being taken over or manipulated, when he ends up secondguessing everything he did under someone else’s control and whether or not he could have seen it coming or prevented it.

He and Lilith have a standing coffee date every other week to meet up for drinks and gossip about the other Titans and the cape community, but the unspoken understanding is that while they’re there Lilith runs a scan of his thoughts searching for any sign that there’s someone else’s fingerprints somewhere in there. Like everything else about this, its a messy kind of compromise that they both have considerably mixed feelings about. Dick is someone who likes his secrets, he’s taken the idea that knowledge is power to heart over the course of his life and feels that too much knowledge of him gives people too much power over him.....but he also feels too much guilt over things he’s done while controlled by others and too much fear for what others might use him to do in the future and he’s past the point where he’s willing to let his pride or feelings of vulnerability get in the way of making sure he’s not being used to hurt people he loves again. Its not like people hijacking his brain don’t get access to all his secrets that way anyway, so he’d rather have them in the hands of someone he trusts, like one of his oldest friends, than in the hands of his enemies. 

But at the same time, the consequence of this intimate knowledge, of Lilith knowing him so well, so much better than he’s ever truly comfortable with is there’s a ceiling to how close they’re ever able to be as friends. Like its this weird thing where they’re close enough that Dick trusts her with the deepest darkest corners of his head, but that very knowledge of his mind is the reason that at the same time, he can’t quite relax around her ever, with them both being hyper aware of this but there’s not really a fix for it, at least that they’ve found. Dick just doesn’t know how to be so exposed without feeling judged or about to be judged, and he’s not about to ask Lil to be his therapist when he’s already asking so much of her being his secret-keeper and safeguard making sure he’s himself and not a risk to others.

Lilith, for her part, doesn’t like anything about this but doesn’t have any other ideas to offer. She knows Dick’s approach to all this is far from healthy but she also knows why it exists and why it is what it is, and she can’t exactly say that his fears are unfounded or that the possibility of him being hijacked and used against his teammates and family isn’t a very real threat, as its been in the past. And she knows exactly how much it pains Dick to let himself be so exposed in front of her for the sake of keeping others safe, and is glad to be someone he can trust for that, as well as being at least glad that she can offer him some peace of mind and reassurance, even if it feels too much like a stopgap and band-aid rather than any real kind of solution. 

But at the same time, this sorta thing requires they both be bluntly honest with each other and there are no real illusions between them, so she doesn’t bother trying to hide that a part of her resents her friend putting this on her, hates the fact that the only reason she is trusted to know him so much better than anyone else is because of necessity. And she really hates knowing the things that he doesn’t share with anyone else and really needs to be sharing or asking for help with or working on in therapy, because she’s hyper-aware of how vulnerable he is to feeling judged and doesn’t want to break this tenuous arrangement by doing exactly that. The downside of being a telepath with someone’s mind wide open before you is no matter how much their thoughts and actions frustrate you, you can’t help but be 100% aware of why they’re like that and just what exactly goes into making them so resistant to change or help. 

And that’s what makes up her part of what keeps their friendship brittle and sharp-edged, even despite it being very real and the source of why she does this for him and why he trusts her to do it at all, even with necessity factored in......there’s distance from her side of the equation just like he has his own, because there’s too much obligation and duty and responsibility and caution bound up in the intimate knowledge between them for them to ever fully feel like the friends they SHOULD be and even WANT to be......and so its weird because she knows things about Dick that nobody else ever will, he shares things with her that he won’t with anyone else, and yet despite that and even because of that they’ll never actually be as close to each other as they are with Donna, Roy, Wally, Garth and others. 

And they’re both keenly aware of that and are uncomfortable with it because its not what friendship is supposed to be like, its not what they want it to be like, they just don’t know how to make it any other way, all things considered.

But again, even still, there is the fact that there is friendship between them and its real, and its why Lilith keeps showing up even despite her resentments and why Dick keeps letting her in his mind despite how intensely he hates baring everything for someone else. 

Lil does it because she knows at the end of the day, Dick only asks because he’s scared, because he doesn’t feel safe and secure in his own mind without her help, and that’s something everyone deserves, especially a friend she values and respects as much as she does Dick. 

And Dick only asks because he recognizes and accepts that as much as he hates it, the truth is he flat out doesn’t trust himself to be sure he’s in control at all times, which leaves his only option being to trust someone else, with that requiring that he actually TRUST them, fully and completely. And at the end of the day, he does trust Lilith to not just be able to help keep his mind secure but to WANT to, to be invested in it because she’s his friend and she cares about him.

Its fucked up and messy and complicated and sharp-edged and painful, but at least it works, so they make the most of it, focus on the positives as much as they can, and share another scone as they gossip about Gar’s latest crush.

[spectrumed]

18. compartments

Welcome to my mind cottage. I used to have a mind palace, but I decided to downsize, go for something more quaint and modest. All I need is a hearth, to keep myself warm, and I’ll be happy. Don’t need these endless rooms filled with old dreams and memories. What I want to avoid, most of all, is never-ending compartmentalisation. Oh, I remember how it used to be, back when I kept that big mind palace. The constant sectioning of thoughts, keeping idea A tucked neatly away from idea B, to avoid contamination at all cost. Surely, it is a bad idea to keep a messy mind? Growing up, how many times don’t we get told to clean up after ourselves? Don’t leave your toys lying all over the floor! Surely, that’s the approach a healthy mind should take towards their own psyche? Constant vigilance. Don’t let that stray thought out of its compartment, lock it down! What you are is the warden, and your thoughts are your prisoners. You gotta keep a tight ship, don’t let any of those pesky little beliefs of yours rock the boat, making you question the very core of your existence. It is stressful to be the master of such an impressive mind palace, there’s so much to do and keep track of, you never get the chance to admire the architecture. No, believe me, I’m far better off with this tiny mind cottage of mine. It’s best to let those madcap ideas run wild in the woods. These days, I’m only raising free-range thoughts.

Compartmentalisation is bad. Some minor compartmentalisation is inevitable, the human mind is naturally segmented, but frequently I see the negative impact over-eager compartmentalisation has on people. The black-and-white type of thinking. Ideas and beliefs are meant to mix, to be stirred together into a wondrous conceptual soup. At times there will be contradictions, you may get a headache from dealing with all that cognitive dissonance, but all you need is a good mental massage, and you will find it gets easier. The mind needs to be flexible, it’s not made out of steel and concrete, it’s a squishy bundle of nerves. I’m sorry to tell you, but sometimes those annoying hippies got the right idea. Maybe it’ll do you some good to relax a little, take off your shoes and let your hair down. Stop trying to impose order on chaos. Go with the flow. I assure you, you can let go of control once, without losing yourself to madness.

I’ve often thought of anxiety as being a form of hyper-sanity. Those that suffer from anxiety disorders, they aren’t insane, they are hyper-sane. Sane to the point of causing themselves harm. Sane to the point of ridiculousness. Can you be too sane? Of course you can. The world is mad, you need to be a little mad to want to go along with it. Besides, that touch of madness is what gives life its spark, its unexpected moments of unbridled joy. Imagine if life was truly mathematically predictable, with all variables taken out. Who’d want to live a life like that? Oh, sure, at first it might bring you some comfort knowing there’s no nasty surprises waiting for you around the corner, some sudden bad news that’s gonna hit you like a monster truck, but then? All that monotony, all that bland sameness every day of the week, the month, the year? God, no, I don’t want that. Imagine spending an eternity in a retirement home, the same schedule every day, only the blandest of food on your plate, and the most numbing of programming on the television. The only highpoint of your existence is when your grandchildren come to visit. You're certainly safe, there’s no risk of you falling down the stairs breaking your hips twenty times over. But surely it can’t be worth it, eliminating all risks, if you also end up eliminating all sense of good fun.

But I know that, from time to time, when I am feeling the anxiety overwhelm me, my perspective changes. How lovely, isn’t it, to be on a destined path. Imagine the terror of a rollercoaster. Now imagine the terror of a rollercoaster that’s flown off its hinges. It’s easy to speak of the value of the freer life, when you’re not convinced that there’s dire peril out there, waiting for you to leave the safety of your personal hidey-hole. We’re at an impasse, here. If you’re truly convinced that the world, at large, is an evil and wicked place and leaving your home is not some fun and rewarding adventure, but a careless flirtation with mortal danger, I can’t use logic to convince you otherwise. The world, I dare say, is neither particularly good nor particularly terrible. It’s fairly neutral. There’s positives and negatives to living here on planet earth, and our personal perspective is what gives our surroundings its flavour. If you look for evil, you will find evil. It’s not quite all in your mind (I am sure a lethal snake bite will kill you, even if you try to maintain a positive attitude,) but I know that agoraphobia is amplified when you’re in emotional distress. A walk down to the shop can feel utterly terrifying, if you're in the wrong mind space. That barking dog you hear in the distance, can either be a gorgeous little puppy just desperate to be played with, or a demonic hellhound sent by the devils to tear a hole in your torso and rip out your intestines. Really, it’s all just subjective. Much like whether or not you like the taste of marmite.

But, y’know, maybe it is good to challenge one’s own subjective reality, from time to time. If you’re convinced that you hate coffee, but haven’t had any coffee in well over ten years, then maybe you should go get some coffee to see if you still hate it. We’ve only got one life, why spend it rigorously adhering to a personal belief that if scrutinised seems to actually not correspond to who you really are, deep down? The fears that you feel, are they really yours? Perhaps they once were, but not any more. You are not the same person today as the one you were yesterday. You’re certainly not the same person you were back when you were a teenager. While I can’t fault anyone suffering from the malady that is anxiety for wanting to limit their lives, to compartmentalise, I feel a definite urge to encourage them to, well, just live a little. I can’t help but hearing Supertramp’s track “Hide in Your Shell” playing in my head as I am typing this. Not that often this aspect of the human experience gets expressed in song. It’s actually quite alienating to feel alienated. Once you’ve hit that point of isolation, of wanting to escape the world, it feels like you’re experiencing something that no-one has ever felt before. Yes, there are songs, poems, movies, video games, stand-up routines, prayers, and social media shitposts all about love, but when was the last time you encountered some work of art that truly captured that dread some of us feel when we consider stepping out our front door?

If you’re all at home, all day, what are you supposed to do other than start organising the mess that’s begun accumulating around you? Not to brag, but I am personally a very messy person, so I am not guilty of any of that obsessive-compulsive cleaning that some of you, my readers, may have indulged in. But I do understand where the urge comes from, to clean and clean and clean and clean, never feeling as if you’ve managed to finish the job. There’s always some dust left under the bed, some dishes to be done, some cobwebs up there somewhere by the ceiling. I’ve experienced that, but for me it’s all been mental. I could just never keep my mind palace clean. Palaces aren’t meant to be lived in, not these days. In the olden days, if you lived in a palace, you had a staff that would take care of it for you. Living in a palace, being some high and fancy lord, meant you ran your own little company at home, with a team of employees that would help you keep everything running smooth and pretty. How many stories haven’t you encountered that’s all about some lonely widow or widower who lives all on their own in a mansion and how miserable it makes them? The tragedy of seeing such a vast estate be so empty of life, it's only occupants being the memories of the past. You may have heard of the old Hollywood business magnet (along with aviator, film director, and inspiration for countless fictional characters) Howard Hughes. He was an “eccentric” billionaire who ended up spending the latter part of his life isolated in penthouses, failing to take care of himself and storing his urine in bottles. That last fact has certainly gotten people speculating, it’s exactly the sort of lurid detail that is bound to get people gossiping.

From Wikipedia. “His reclusiveness and possibly his drug use made him practically unrecognisable. His hair, beard, fingernails, and toenails were long—his tall 6 ft 4 in (193 cm) frame now weighed barely 90 pounds (41 kg), and the FBI had to use fingerprints to conclusively identify the body.” I’m willing to reckon that’s not a fate anyone reading this blog would want to face.

I suppose I don’t need to convince you or anyone that it’s good to leave your house, occasionally and to shake things up. Agoraphobia is bad, and stating that is not gonna cause any kind of controversy, I know. But I think that, especially coming at this from the point of view of someone diagnosed with Asperger's, I fear agoraphobia will stay with me, throughout my life, only getting stronger with age. I don’t want to allow myself to grow dependent on routines, and the monotony of a predictable life. Yes, I am definitely someone who, if I am going away somewhere, will pack several days ahead of schedule. If I am going somewhere, I will plan out the route in my head, so that I will know exactly where I am going and what I will do when I get there. I know what it is like when you face a change in plan, and I know how frustrating it can get to try and explain this to others. It is indescribable. I have felt so immature, childlike, in the past knowing that others may see my rigidity as some kind of failure to act adult, to live with the ever-changing tumult that is grown-up life. You’re supposed to roll with the punches, not act all despondent just ‘cause you didn’t get it just the way you wanted it. The fact is, if you’re in constant need to map everything out, to create order out of disorder, then you will only be setting up traps for yourself, and if you get caught in any of these traps, then that might be enough to make you never want to leave your home again.

I should write again about chaos in the future. I could write about my potential religious awakening as an adherent of discordianism. (Hail Eris! All hail Discordia!) If I have a spiritual side, then that spirituality stems from a desire to find comfort in chaos. The lack of structure, the anti-clockwork nature of our universe. I feel like as if by maybe trying to turn the frightening grimace of the chaotic forces that makes living life feel at times like going from dice toss to dice toss in a tabletop RPG, into something more benevolent (and even beneficial,) I could reach an epiphany in how I relate to this world. Those moments of a reversal of plans, those soul-shaking moments of stepping out into the world to go to the shop, would suddenly no longer feel so insurmountable. I don’t want to embrace routine. I don’t want to end up living life all alone surrounded by jars of my own piss neatly organised next to my perfectly formulated obsessive concerns. I seek an organic life. I’d rather live in a small cottage in the woods, than in some mansion in which I will lose myself. A home should be a shelter for the night, not a mausoleum for your thoughts.

[kagetsukai]

OTP ship questions

So... this ship questions list has been making the rounds, and since I’m neck-deep in trying to finish up the story for Sam and Benji, I’ve decided to fill out ALL OF THEM. In one go. I’m extra, sue me.

(under a cut cuz I actually like you people) :P

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. How did they first meet?

Sam moved to Wayhaven and into Benji’s apartment complex. They didn’t start talking until Sam was getting mugged while on her run, Benji jumped in to help her, and then she punched him on accident. Benji does like to call it “love at first punch”

2. What was their first impression of each other?

Total heart eyes on both sides. They are both total cuties and they were eyeing each other before they actually started talking. Benji thought Sam was a little withdrawn and grumpy, while Sam thought Benji was really weird for grinning like a maniac all the time.

3. Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

I mean, Tina was the driving force from the very beginning and super invested in those two idiots getting together. Once it was apparent how cute Sam and Benji were together, the entire damn town wanted them to get/stay together. Sam’s cousin Liz was like “please enjoy yourself with the man”. Hell, even Benji’s ex was happy for them!

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Benji. The man wears his heart on his sleeve AND is incapable of holding back. He also has more experience with knowing what such emotions feel like so he can recognize them quicker. He’ll also claim that he fell in love with Sam the moment she punched him, so there’s that.

5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Both of them, actually! There’s a time limit on how long Sam will be staying in Wayhaven so both of them knew falling in love was a very bad idea. But they are so well-suited for each other that it was inevitable.

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

I think there would be an overwhelming “hell yeah!” on both accounts, because of how strongly they feel for each other. Sam would feel a sense of relief, because she grew up hearing stories of how her sperm donor (aka bio dad) just impregnated her mother and left her behind, so knowing Benji would actually stay and love her would be a happy news. Benji would be ecstatic to know Sam is his soulmate and would probably tell everybody who stopped long enough to be told. Deep down, he’d still doubt himself and the knowledge, because he has a long history of abandonment. Even with regular reminders, he’d still be afraid that Sam would decide one day that there had been a mistake and leave.

7. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Sam would become a bonafide workaholic with a limited number of friends - to Liz’s constant frustration. If she managed to find someone that she liked well enough, she’d probably settle down with them eventually, but maybe not feel a great passion for them. Just a decent, average life in California.

Benji would have gotten together with Felix and have a happy, fulfilled life with him. He’d probably get turned into a vampire at some point, too.

GENERAL

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Benji initiated it. Sam rejected the idea of dating at first, but after some cajoling, she agreed to keep going out with him.

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

The first date was very casual and not really an official date - they went for dinner at a crab shack. Their second date was a little more dressy, with a dinner and a movie, and they both put in more effort into everything.

3. What was their first kiss like?

Amazing. Sam got a little tipsy and decided to leave a lipstick print on Benji’s neck as a way of “flirting”. Since the man is a slut for neck kisses, he took that as an invitation to have proper kisses and smooched her senseless right there and then. Sam did NOT complain.

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

Sam had never had sex with a man before Benji (only had experiences with women), so it was a big deal when it happened. Benji made sure to take it slow and gave her a fantastic first-time experience.

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Sam is 5’10 and Benji is 6’3, so there’s about 5 inches of difference between them. There’s about 2.5 years of difference between them in age.

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Sam ends up having a decent relationship with Rebecca, after some time. It’s a little difficult to interact with someone who is barely around, but Sam tries to be nice all the same (since it’s important to Benji). She definitely has a much closer relationship with Benji’s found family, Tina and all the older ladies who appointed themselves Benji’s guardians. They all love Sam dearly and the feeling is mutual.

Benji has a fantastic relationship with Liz and her husband/kids. The kids in particular looooove hanging off Benji and using him like a jungle gym. Benji and Liz have this pact of sorts where they would murder a bitch in order to protect Sam from harm - and be each other’s alibi, too. They did start off on a slightly wrong foot, but it got cleared up quickly. That being said, Benji is not fond of Sam’s extended family - they can be challenging.

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Benji, always. He’s the resident extrovert and will behave like a shield for when Sam feels overwhelmed with crowds or situations.

8. Who gets jealous easier?

Benji. He rarely acts on the emotion, though. At the beginning of the relationship, he’d just get quiet and in his own head a lot; later on he’d casually bring it to Sam to make sure he has nothing to worry about. 

Sam still gets jealous, though it’s not as common. After all, her man is fucking sexy and *of course* women would want to poach him. Gotta stay vigilant.

9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

They are BOTH culprits of that one. Very often those are VERY explicit things, but mostly it’s just passing comments or even just sexy glances. Those two are *into* each other.

LOVE

1. Who said “I love you” first?

Sam, strangely enough. Having your life flash before your eyes sure makes you more willing to take chances with love ;)

2. What are their primary love languages?

Sam

Give: Acts of service, touch Receive: Quality time, touch

Benji: Give: Quality time, touch Receive: Touch, quality time

3. Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Benji, hands down. He’s a cheeseball.

4. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

As often as they can get away with it. They are both touch starved idiots with a variety of abandonment issues, so being glued to each other is a natural state for them.

5. Who initiates kisses?

Benji, more often than not. He craves that physical reassurance from Sam ALL the time.

6. Who’s the big and little spoon?

Benji will want to be the little spoon as often as he can get away with it. He loves being held and having his hair played with, so settling half of his body into Sam’s lap is literally his favorite thing. That being said, when they sleep, he’s usually the big spoon.

7. What are their favorite things to do together?

Hiking and being active. When Benji was recovering from his stint at the hospital after Murphy, Sam would go with him on hikes to make sure he wasn’t pushing himself too much physically. Then they never stopped. Benji loves going places to photograph Sam for the millionth time. They will also go to the gym together, if their schedules align. They also love doing the couch potato things together: watching movies/Netflix or him playing video games while her feet are draped all over him as she reads her current murder mystery.

8. Who’s better at comforting the other?

Sam might be just a little better at it than Benji, but only because he has shitty impulse control and often will blurt out things he shouldn’t. Sam will generally sit and listen to Benji, cuddle him, pet his hair, etc. Benji will do similar things, but his need to crack jokes about inappropriate things gets him in trouble relatively often.

9. Who’s more protective?

Benji. He would NOT hesitate to murder a person in cold blood to keep Sam safe. It’s not exactly a healthy thing, but we all know the man needs therapy.

10. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Benji is a cuddle monster and would be wrapped around Sam 24/7 if allowed. That being said, since Sam is a little reserved about verbalizing her feelings for him, anytime she says “I love you” first, he feels absolutely ecstatic.

Sam’s family wasn’t a very outwardly affectionate people, so she’s not used to either type of displays? That being said, since Benji is always a walking furnace, she absolutely loves when he gives her cuddles. It’s her favorite thing.

11. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

*opens up their playlist*

Camila Cabello - Easy Amber Run - I Found Dermot Kennedy - Power Over Me X Ambassador - Unsteady Hozier - Work Song

12. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Benji calls Sam “baby” all the time. She usually just calls him Benji, but also occasionally “mi carino” or “my love”. Pretty sure he dies every time she calls him “my love”.

13. Who remembers the little things?

I feel like they’re both pretty good about remembering the little things. Sam is better about remembering significant dates, but that’s because she has a digital calendar and isn’t afraid to use it :P

DOMESTIC LIFE

1. If they get married, who proposes?

Benji is the one who proposes. It happens on a random night while getting ready for bed, while they’re both in the bathroom in their bedclothes. It’s adorable and very them.

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

The wedding would most likely happen in Wayhaven. I can’t imagine either Benji or Sam wanting a huge ceremony, but since they’ve become the town’s favorite lovebirds, it kind of goes out of control. Once some of their supernatural friends get involved, it really goes a little crazy. It ends up happening at a city park so it can fit all of the attendees. Some of Sam’s family flies in from out of town. Tina is Benji’s best “man” and Liz is Sam’s matron of honor. Benji absolutely loses his shit when he sees Sam in the wedding dress walking down the aisle and totally disrupts the ceremony to try to kiss her out of turn. Other than a ridiculous number of people there (seriously, probably at least half of the town shows up), it’s a pretty chill party, with lots of remembrance of Sam’s mom and Benji’s dad. Let’s just say it was a good day :)

3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

There are a few AUs for these dorks, but in most of those they have two kids: a girl and a boy. Ella is precocious, outgoing, clever, and energetic. Liam is a giant cuddle bug with a gorgeous smile and a big heart, who prefers to tinker with things in a workshop than get involved with his older sister’s shenanigans.

4. Do they have any pets?

They eventually end up with two dogs that they take on their hikes. They only have one dog for the longest time because apartment living isn’t exactly conducive to pet ownership. Once they get a house, they expand their menagerie. There might be a stray cat they sorta adopt, too.

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

Sam, hands down. Benji is a giant pushover for his wife and children, and would let his kids climb all over him, as long as they were happy.

6. Who worries the most?

That really depends on what about. Benji is perpetually worried about keeping his family safe and provided for. Sam has anxiety about a variety of small things and it’s not hard for her to worry about random stuff.

7. Who kills the bugs in the house?

Depends on the bugs. Benji loathes spiders so Sam’s in charge of removing those. Sam absolutely cannot deal with centipedes and roaches, so Benji gets to kill those.

8. How do they celebrate holidays?

When it’s just the two of them, they either go visit one of their friends in town and spend it with them. Once kids arrive, they do holidays at home and tend to go big in the food department. Rebecca is always invited, but it depends on whether she can make it that time or not. They like it when holidays are warm and filled with happiness/laughter.

9. Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Benji. If he’s not working that morning, he would not want to leave the bed and would do everything in his power to keep Sam in there.

10. Who’s the better cook?

Sam. Benji isn’t terrible at it, but Sam is so much better that he rarely bothers with it. Also, Sam tends to treat cooking as stress relief (chopping veggies is great anger management), so he lets her do the thing in peace. That being said, if she’s too tired to cook, or it’s been a long day, or the kids are demanding her attention, Benji feels comfortable enough in the kitchen to take over and make dinner.

11. Who likes to dance?

Sam, hands down. Her mom loved to dance so she grew up around it. Unfortunately, Benji has two left feet so she doesn’t have many opportunities to flex those muscles (outside of occasional slow-dancing in the kitchen). She will occasionally drag Tina out for a night of dancing and go to a salsa club. It can really hit the spot.

[16th-cornelia-street]

More exceprts from subtle art of not giving a f*ck

Trying to make people feel good in the short term while the real long term problem never gets solved. People feeling and feelings may change, but the underlying value and merits by which those value stay the same. This is not real progress. This is just another way to achieve more highs.

 Our values determine the metrics by which we measure ourselves and everyone else.

           If you want to change how you see your problems you have to change what you value and how you measure failures and success

 Handful of values that create problems for people:

           Pleasure: it is not the cause of happiness rather it is effect if you get other stuff right, the other value, then pleasure will naturally occur as a by-product.

           Material success: overvaluing material success is danger of prioritizing it over other values. When people measure selves not by their behavior but by the status symbols they’re able to collect then not only were they shallow they are probably assholes as well.

           Always being right: people who base their self-worth on being right about everything prevent themselves from learning from their mistakes they lack ability to take on new perspectives and empathize with others. They close selves off to new and important information.

           Staying positive: there is something to staying on sunny side but sometimes life suck and healthiest thing you can do is admit it. constant positivity is a form of avoidance

 Trick with negative emotiones is to express them in socially acceptable and healthy manner and express them in a way that aligns with your values

           When force ourselves to stay positive at all times we deny the existence of our life’s problems. When we deny our problems we rob ourselves of the chance to solve them and generate happiness.

 Good values are reality based, socially constructive, and immediate and controllable.

           Bad values are superstitious, socially destructive, and not immediate or controllable.

           Good values are achieved internally. Something like creativity or humility can be experienced right now

           Bad values are generally reliant on external events.

           When we have poor values, poor standards for ourselves and others, we are essentially giving f*cks about the things that don’t matter things that in fact make our life worse.

 Responsibity: Take responsibility for everything that occurs in your life regardless of who’s at fault.

Uncertainty: acknowledge your own ignorance and the cultivation of constant doubt in your own beliefs.

Failure: willingness to discover your own flaws and mistakes so that they may be improved upon.

Rejection: the ability to both say and hear no, thus clearly defining what you will and will not accept in your life.

Contemplation of one’s own mortality: paying vigilant attention to one’s own death is perhaps the only thing capable of helping us keep all our values in proper perspective.

[michaelbogild]

Quotes by Benjamin Franklin

A false friend and a shadow attend only while the sun shines.

A friend in need is a friend indeed!

A learned blockhead is a greater blockhead than an ignorant one.

A man of words and not of deeds, Is like a garden full of weeds

A man wrapped up in himself makes a very small bundle.

A Penny Saved is a Penny Earned

A place for everything, everything in its place.

A slip of the foot you may soon recover, but a slip of the tongue you may never get over.

Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it.

After the signing of the Constitution, Benjamin Franklin was asked by a woman on the street, What have you given us, sir? Franklin Responded, A Republic, if you can keep it.

All mankind is divided into three classes: those that are immovable, those that are movable, and those that move.

All the little money that ever came into my hands was ever laid out in books.

An investment in knowledge always pays the best interest.

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man.

Be civil to all; sociable to many; familiar with few; friend to one; enemy to none.

Be studious in your profession, and you will be learned. Be industrious and frugal, and you will be rich. Be sober and temperate, and you will be healthy. Be in general virtuous, and you will be happy. At least you will, by such conduct, stand the be.

Being ignorant is not so much a shame, as being unwilling to learn.

Beware of little expenses; a small leak will sink a great ship.

but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.

But on the whole, though I never arrived at the perfection I had been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far short of it, yet I was, by the endeavour, a better and happier man than I otherwise should have been had I not attempted it; as those who aim at perfect writing by imitating the engraved copies, their hand is mended by the endevour, and is tolerable while it continues fair and legible"

By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.

Chess teaches foresight, by having to plan ahead; vigilance, by having to keep watch over the whole chess board; caution, by having to restrain ourselves from making hasty moves; and finally, we learn from chess the greatest maxim in life - that even when everything seems to be going badly for us we should not lose heart, but always hoping for a change for the better, steadfastly continue searching for the solutions to our problems.

Clean your Finger, before you point at my Spots.

Content makes poor men rich; discontent makes rich men poor.

Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that's the stuff life is made of.

Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Eat to live, don't live to eat.

Educate your children to self-control, to the habit of holding passion and prejudice and evil tendencies subject to an upright and reasoning will, and you have done much to abolish misery from their future and crimes from society.

Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.

Energy and persistence conquer all things.

Fools make feasts and wise men eat them.

For every minute spent in organizing, an hour is earned.

Genius is nothing but a greater aptitude for patience.

Genius without education is like silver in the mine.

God helps them that help themselves.

Great beauty, great strength, and great riches are really and truly of no great use; a right heart exceeds all

Happiness consists more in the small conveniences of pleasures that occur every day, than in great pieces of good fortune that happen but seldom to a man in the course of his life.

Happiness depends more on the inward disposition of mind than on outward circumstances.

Haste makes waste.

He that can have patience can have what he will.

He that falls in love with himself will have no rivals.

He that lieth down with Dogs, shall rise up with Fleas.

He that lives upon hope will die fasting.

He’s a Fool that cannot conceal his Wisdom

How few there are who have courage enough to own their faults, or resolution enough to mend them.

If a man could have half of his wishes, he would double his troubles.

If Jack's in love, he's no judge of Jill's beauty.

If Passion drives, let Reason hold the Reins.

If you would be loved, love, and be loveable.

In reality, there is, perhaps, no one of our natural passions so hard to subdue as pride. Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it down, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive, and will every now and then peep out and show itself; you will see it, perhaps, often in this history; for, even if I could conceive that I had compleatly overcome it, I should probably be proud of my humility.

It is the first responsibility of every citizen to question authority.

It takes many good deeds to build a good reputation, and only one bad one to lose it.

Life biggest tragedy is that we get old too soon and wise too late

Little strokes fell great oaks.

Lost Time is never found again.

Love your Enemies, for they tell you your Faults.

Make yourself sheep and the wolves will eat you.

Many a man thinks he is buying pleasure, when he is really selling himself to it.

Many people die at twenty five and aren't buried until they are seventy five.

Money has never made man happy, nor will it; There is nothing in its nature to produce happiness. The more of it one has, the more one wants.

Motivation is when your dreams put on work clothes

My refusing to eat flesh occasioned an inconveniency, and I was frequently chided for my singularity, but, with this lighter repast, I made the greater progress, for greater clearness of head and quicker comprehension. Flesh eating is unprovoked murder.

Never confuse Motion with Action.

Never leave till tomorrow that which you can do today.

No one cares what you know until they know that you care!

O powerful goodness! Bountiful Father! Merciful Guide! Increase in me that wisdom which discovers my truest interest. Strengthen my resolution to perform what that wisdom dictates. Accept my kind offices to thy other children as the only return in my power for thy continual favours to me.

One today is worth two tomorrows

Originality is the art of concealing your sources.

Reading makes a full man, meditation a profound man, discourse a clear man.

Savages we call them, because their manners differ from ours, which we think the perfection of civility; they think the same of theirs. "

Search others for their virtues, thyself for thy vices.

Serving God is doing good to man, but praying is thought an easier service and therefore more generally chosen.

Speak little, do much.

Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.

The doorstep to the temple of wisdom is a knowledge of our own ignorance.

The only thing that is more expensive than education is ignorance.

The people heard it, and approved the doctrine, and immediately practiced the contrary.

The person who deserves most pity is a lonesome one on a rainy day who doesn't know how to read.

The Proud hate Pride – in others.

The way to see by faith is to shut the eye of reason.

There are three things extremely hard: steel, a diamond, and to know one's self.

there will be sleeping enough in the grave....

They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.

Thinking aloud is a habit which is responsible for most of mankind's misery.

Those things that hurt, instruct.

Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.

Tis a great confidence in a friend to tell him your faults; greater to tell him his.

Tis easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it.

To all apparent beauties blind, each blemish strikes an envious mind.

To cease to think creatively is to cease to live

To find out a girl's faults, praise her to her girlfriends.

To lengthen thy life, lessen thy meals.

To succeed, jump as quickly at opportunities as you do at conclusions.

Tricks and treachery are the practice of fools that don't have brains enough to be honest.

Trouble knocked at the door, but, hearing laughter, hurried away

We are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid.

We do not stop playing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop playing!

Well done is better than well said.

What you would seem to be, be really.

Whatever is begun in anger, ends in shame.

When the well is dry, we know the worth of water.

When you are finished changing, you're finished.

Who is wise? He that learns from everyone. Who is powerful? He that governs his passions. Who is rich? He that is content. Who is that? Nobody.

Whoever would overthrow the liberty of a nation must begin by subduing the freeness of speech.

wine [is] a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us happy.

Wise men don't need advice. Fools won't take it.

Wise Men learn by other's harms; Fools by their own.

Without Freedom of thought there can be no such thing as wisdom;and no such thing as public liberty, without freedom of speech.

Women are books, and men the readers be

Write to Please Yourself. When You write to Please Others You end up Pleasing No one.

You may delay, but time will not.

Your net worth to the world is usually determined by what remains after your bad habits are subtracted from your good ones