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whiskeyswriting · 2 years ago

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You Belong

| Song Inspiration: You Belong by Rachel Platten |

Time passes by and the Daggers all continue their work at training the new students. Each day that passes is a day closer to having these supposed best of the best graduate from Top Gun.

Jake and Alana continue their early morning gym dates. Today it was the same plan: gym, coffee, and drive to the base.

Upon waking up, Alana groans as she gets up from bed. Her whole body aching. While she wasn’t a pilot, she still trained with them. This time the exercises and studying were getting to be too much for her to handle.

Alana barely managed to stay for fifteen minutes on the treadmill during her workout with Jake.

She did everything she could to keep the pain and nausea down, but the fatigue kept getting worse every day that passed.

The next morning she had to call out after a night of non-stop vomiting.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?” Jake asks her as he brings her a cup of ginger and lemon tea.

“If I get worse I’ll call you. Go you’re already going to be late,” Alana whispers as her eyes close.

When she woke up a couple of hours later, Alana reached for her phone and texted her friends.

Cin🪅: Someone please end my misery. 😭

Lucky🍀: I know people that can get rid of Jake. 😏

Spicy🌶️: Why did I know she would say that? 🤔

Lucky🍀: Because you know and love me. 🤫

Cin🪅: I need some soup 🍲 or crackers…

Lucky🍀: I’m about to go up now… I’ll rush over once I’m done.

Spicy🌶️: Be there soon! 😘

Alana heads to the living room to sit on the couch. She tries to get some work done from home, but nausea continues to assault her. Setting her laptop to the side, Alana gingerly heads to the kitchen to get some ginger tea.

While she waits for the tea to be done, Alana calls her Momma Cindy. “Momma…? I think I’m pregnant and I’m so scared.”

“Oh princess, I'll be right there. Want me to bring you a few tests to be sure?”

Alana can only sob out a soft yes.

The hour isn’t up when Cindy arrives. The first thing she does is take Alana in her arms and hugs her tightly. “It’s okay, princess. You’ll be okay. I’m here with you.”

Cindy helps Alana stay calm while they wait for the test results. “Want me to go with you to your doctor’s appointment?”

“No, it’s okay. I gotta do this one alone. Maybe the next one? Oh and don’t tell papa yet. I don’t want him trying to get Jake discharged from the Navy,” Alana teases.

The knock at the door alerts them that Grace arrived. Alana goes to open the door. “Thanks… I would invite you to stay but I think it’s a stomach bug so I don’t wanna pass it to you.” She hates lying to her best friend but, at the moment, Cin felt like she had no choice.

She knew Grace and Bradley had been trying for a baby but hadn’t been successful. How could she rub it into their faces now?

Grace could tell Alana was hiding something but didn’t call her out on it. “Sure. Keep me posted, okay? I’ll bring you a few more soups tomorrow.”

“Thank you, love,” Alana tells her.

****

The next day Alana goes to see her off-base doctor confirmed the results. “Congratulations Alana. You’re pregnant. I want you to see Dr. Thompson as soon as possible. Actually, let me call her to see when she’s available.”

Luck was on Alana’s side, as Dr. Thompson had availability in the next hour.

“Let’s do some an ultrasound and some blood work. Do you have any known medical allergies?”

“None that I’m aware of.”

Alana and the doctor talk some more throughout the appointment. Alana was informed of what to expect during her pregnancy and what prenatal vitamins she should be taking.

“Follow me and we’ll do the ultrasound,” Dr. Thompson says as she leads Alana to another section of her practice.

****

Alana’s knee is bouncing nervously as she waits for Jake to get to her office for lunch. The small sonogram pictures sat at her desk and she couldn’t stop staring at them. When he knocks at the door, Alana covers the sonogram so Jake won’t immediately see them.

“Hey! I thought you called out sick,” Jake says in greeting going around her desk to kiss her.

“I did initially but then I called to say that I would be late. It’ll be like this for the next few months.” She waits to see if he gets what she’s saying.

“Are you okay? Is it bad news?”

“More like life-changing news,” she says softly, handing him the sonogram pictures.

His teasing smirk fell as he was about to ask if she forged a doctor’s note. His eyes widen and he looks from Cin to the sonograms back to Cin. “You’re… We’re…”

The next thing she knows is he starts pacing around her office, running his hand through his hair. “I can’t do this. I’m too young!”

Cin sighs. “Are you done panicking so I can tell you to look at the sonograms again?”

Jake’s brows furrow but he looks down again and notices Baby A and Baby B on the top right corners of each sonogram.

His face goes from shock to a huge smile. “TWINS!? We’re having twins!?”

Alana nods with tears in her eyes. Jake rushes to pick her up and spins her. “No no!”

“Sorry!” He sets her down and kisses her tenderly. He places his hand over her stomach. “How did I not notice? You’ve lost a bit of weight and your girls look even better!”

“Down your horn dog,” Cin says laughing.

“What did the doctor tell you? Have you told anyone? When are you due?”

“All good questions: to start off only my Momma Cindy knows and now you… I’m due in just over 5 and a half months. I just made it past the 8 weeks or 2 months mark.”

“That’s how long you've been feeling tired and everything has been aching. It explains the face you made when I was cooking the other day.”

“What face?”

“Like if the scent or garlic made you sick to your stomach. I thought it was just you being dramatic to my cooking.”

Alana chuckled. “No babe you know I love when you cook. I’m glad your mama taught you that.”

****

Another week passes. Alana’s symptoms continue to increase. She’s limited her outings with the Daggers. It’s no surprise to her that Grace and Baylie are the first to notice and also that Alana isn’t drinking.

“Okay wifey. This is an intervention. Are you breaking up with us?” Baylie asks. "Jake isn't even THAT attractive. I can't believe you would break up with us for HIM."

Alana just stares at her blinking until the nausea comes up and she runs to the bathroom.

“Even the thought of him over us made her sick,” Baylie jokes with Grace as they wait for Alana.

Once she returns, Grace asks Alana. “How far along?”

“Nine weeks,” she says, laying down on the sofa. “And they’re killing me already.”

Baylie and Grace look at each other. “They’re… as in twins!?”

Alana nods but then starts sniffling. “I… I wasn’t sure how to tell either of you because I didn’t want either of you… I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

She looks at both her friends before continuing. “Spicy… I know you and Brad have been trying and Lucky… I may not know what losing a baby is like but it must be difficult.”

Baylie is the first to hug her. “Oh Cin. You could never make us feel bad about two little babies coming into our lives. I can't wait to love on them.”

Grace hugs her next, playfully pushing Baylie away. “Oh love. No never. Don't think for one second I'm not over the moon happy for you. And it's double the babies to love and spoil. We'll be the best aunties ever.” She grins mischievously at Lucky.

“Oh yeah we’re going to spoil them rotten.”

****

The weeks continue to pass and Cin starts showing more of her bump. Then comes the appointment to find out the sex of the babies. The whole squad wants to go but they accept, some begrudgingly, that Jake should be the one to accompany Alana to the appointment.

The tech is smiling at them as they do the ultrasound. Rapid heartbeats fill the room. “Both heartbeats sound healthy and quite active… Ah here we go.”

Jake and Alana share happy tears when they’re told. “I already know what names I want,” Cin says first.

“I do too,” Jake says as he gives her a tender kiss and they leave to go tell their friends and family.

•‧:❤️:‧:❤️:‧•

The Usual Suspects: @askmarinaandothers @bayisdying @breadsquash @callmemana @callsignscupcake @chipperxbaby @cycbaby @dragon-kazansky @gracespicybradshaw @ladylanera @starlit-epiphany

#mrsjaderogerswrites #the chaos squad #the chaos squad fics #hangman x cinco #Jake hangman Seresin #alana cinco metcalf #cinco x hangman #Jake x Alana #Alana x Jake #Jake Hangman Seresin x OC

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dragonfly-murmurs · 8 months ago

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When I was eight, a scar was just cool. It was a reminder of pain that you overcame, a recognition of a history, something a spy would get on their adventures.

I asked my mom if my scrape would make a scar as she bandaged my knee, because I really wanted a scar.

“Don’t try to get scars,” she admonished.

An eye roll and a sigh and a return outside.

There was another type of scar I wanted.

I paged through the Horrible Histories magazine that mentioned my favorite myth of the Amazons.

Strong women in the middle of the forest somewhere, who were said to cut off one of their breasts to hold a bow better.

Why not cut off both? I thought, tracing the scar on the illustrated body. It would be cool to be an archer. That sacrifice was one I would make, easily. It would be worth it.

A little older, and I’m on the Internet. I mostly just watch. There is a lot to watch.

One of my relatives had breast cancer a few years back—she writes about it sometimes. Everyone has pink ribbons all over the place on the 2010 Internet, and I am seeing feel-good-content articles about mastectomy reconstructions and tattoos.

I don’t really get why they would want a reconstruction or anything to cover it up.

I don’t think it’s my place to “get” it, but…

I’d want the scars.

Older yet. I stand in the shower, begging my body to stop.

I need to stop this redistribution of fat because my life might depend on it. I can’t exist in this way—it is wrong. These new lumps of fat are something I’ve never wanted.

My mom tells me I wanted breasts when I was little.

I do not know how to settle my current feelings with the expressions of a 3-year-old who was still me but who was me so long ago that I’ve almost forgotten who she was.

Maybe they’ll stop growing if I hope hard enough. Maybe if I keep obsessing over genetics and environmental factors and what exercises to do, something will work.

I look up at the waterproof self-screening breast cancer guide hanging from the shower handle.

Maybe I’ll get breast cancer.

Then I’d have an excuse to slice these off.

If I pinch hard enough, it’s like I can separate the breasts from the rest of me, a mitosis very much like the process that put them on me in the first place.

I stop when it hurts too much.

I tell my mom I’m nonbinary and she says she knew already.

She asks if I want top surgery.

I say I’m not sure yet.

It isn’t entirely a lie.

But it is mostly a lie.

Deep in my soul, I’ve always known what I want.

One day, I will have thin scars stretching across my chest. Just scars, no fat, no nipples (I’ve never liked them), just…

A week ago, I dreamt that I was in my backyard, shirtless. I had scars in my dream and—

I was free.

#nonbinary #non binary #transgender #trans pride #queer community #queer #queer writers

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awideplace · 1 year ago

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can i ask for encouragement & prayer? i’m in my last trimester of pregnancy & i think postpartum deepression are starting to knock in my door of thoughts. i’m starting to think how my body is changing. how it looks now. starting to miss how i look before. starting to feel bad and then feel guilty for feeling bad about it. i want to fight it. there are days i’m fighting it by whispering some affirmations and truth through God’s word like my body is amazing & miraculous for being able to handle a baby but there are days i feel so lost and wonder if i can still go back to my old self or will i love this new version of myself that is coming. i really don’t know what exactly what i want to feel.

Thank you for sharing and it does sound like you're having ups and downs with how you feel about it. May I share something? I'm not an affirmations fan, I don't really see the sense of psyching ourselves up by saying something ritualistically and to kind of, well, puff ourselves up a bit. I'd rather think of myself less (not think less of myself). I don't think we have to experience such highs and such lows, rather to be steady with how we view ourselves. You're pregnant, the Lord has creating new life within you, what a wonder. I would put the focus on motherhood impending and not worry so much about the body; I know our culture has made it very hard for women so be careful what you take in (TV shows, Instagram, TikTok, Pinterest, etc.) that focuses SO much on looks and the externals. Be careful what you look at. Focus on this new life being weaved together in you. Focus on after having the baby and nursing the baby and giving it the best possible nurturing upbringing you can. Focus on raising this child to know the Lord as his or her Savior, of praying for them even now, of being a mother.

I would encourage you, think of your body less–but do take care of yourself. I do believe in eating well and exercising, I do not understand a Christian who doesn't take care of the body God has given them, yet at the same time it cannot be our focus to think so much externally about ourselves. Take care of yourself, and enjoy these final months, and don't have a self-fulfilling prophecy of postpartum depression–we all have good and bad moods at times and especially with hormonal changes, but don't expect to be depressed either because what we expect we often find–even though I don't like affirmations (they just seem prideful, health and wealth/prosperity-Gospelish to me as well as New Age) I do think our thought life matters. "And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think on these things." Philippians 4:7-8. Think of the Lord, of this new life, praying for this new life, of being a loving, nurturing mother because this is a high calling.

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stormcloudsandshadows · 2 years ago

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Me, who knows my body and pain levels more than anyone: my pain has been flaring up because of the weather. Things cause more pain on average to do because the cold is messing with me

My mom, who heard my doctor (who said I was just weird not autistic even though she knows I am, so why she believes him I don’t know) say I should lose weight one time: we’ll also you haven’t been doing your stretches and you lay in weird positions all day and you don’t excercise and eat like crap

Like. Okay, yeah, I forgot why I was so “irrationally” scared of telling family I use a cane now. Yeah. Doing one thing with a cane to help vs doing the same sort of thing without (cleaning a client’s room with cane vs cleaning my own without)- I had way less pain with than without but I didn’t bring my cane inside because I can’t risk my parents seeing it. I’m nineteen in three days. But I’m “naive” and lazy and don’t want to be an adult or whatever. I still live with my parents. I’m trying to get my room clean because the baby will be crawling soon and my room isn’t baby safe. But all this- ugh. I don’t know. It’s stupid. Scared to use my aid in my own home, and preferring to be at work because at least my client just. She asked why I had it. I said it helped my back pain. It was over and done with. But I don’t even bring it into the house I live in because I know the woman who raised me thinks the reason I am still in pain is because I won’t work hard enough to not be in pain.

Like. Maybe I don’t want to push myself to the breaking point just for the chance of having less pain. Maybe I don’t want to exercise even if it makes my fucked up muscles stronger. Maybe I know when a flare up is because of the cold, I’ve gone through two winters with this pain after all. Maybe I want to eat food that I like! Maybe I shouldn’t have to make myself more miserable for the chance of lessened pain.

I was just trying to vent and complain about how I was hurting more as it got colder. But thanks, mom, for reminding me my family sucks.

We’ve got mom who was super helpful when I first got injured but as time went on decided it was my fault I wasn’t better yet. We’ve got step dad who has chronic back pain and is sympathetic but never actually talks about anything (he’s most likely autistic but it’s still frustrating that the one sympathetic one won’t talk about stuff). We’ve got grandma who is in extreme constant pain due to aging and so since I’m younger I have no place to complain because that’s daily life for her and so many older adults that can handle it less than a hound person can. And then we have grandpa who prays to a god I hate.

So basically? Fuck.

#vent post #cpunk #cripplepunk #chronic pain

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anamericangirl · 10 months ago

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If you want to respond to something I say or think you have a good argument against me or even just want to criticize me, it’s ok to reblog from me directly or actually direct your response to me in some form. You don’t have to be scared 🤗

But you really failed big time in showing any real world examples of the claim in question. The claim was we are fine with kids dying and to give a real world example you shared an article of an adult woman being fined by the Indiana medical licensing board for violating patient privacy laws. Those aren’t the same thing dear.

It’s ok if you somehow missed that I was asking for real world examples of pro-lifers not caring if children died but it’s not ok if you decided that since you couldn’t find any real world examples of pro-lifers not caring about kids dying you could just find any example of something you don’t like happening to an abortionist and pretend it’s the same thing because that’s what we call being a liar :)

There is a big difference between being ok with children dying and a medial board fining a doctor for violating privacy laws. I would like to assume you’re smart enough to know the difference but I’ve learned not to assume that with pro-aborts such as yourself so for the future know that an adult having to pay money for violating a law is not the same thing as being ok with children dying, k?

Your other “excellent example” is you, yet again, failing to understand the claim you say you’re responding to as well as something a little common sense can help you figure out if you chose to exercise it. My statement that “if their body is old enough to bear children it’s old enough to handle childbirth” (even though that’s not actually what I said - so it would be a good idea to at least get the quote right if you’re going to try to use it against me) is not me endorsing the death of children, it’s me stating a biological reality and I know you pro-aborts hate biological reality but it’s still real even if you hate it.

What that means, since you’re blinded by hatred to the point where you are unable to understand basic statements, is that biologically if a woman or a girl’s body is capable of conceiving a child, it is capable of pregnancy and child birth. That’s just a fact that you pro-aborts don’t like. That’s not my argument for why abortion isn’t good for children. That’s what I say in response to pro-aborts like yourself who make objectively incorrect claims about biology and pregnancy.

So, again, not being able to find a real world example of pro-lifers not caring if children die doesn’t excuse your very dishonest attempt “proving” this by finding anything you don’t like or didn’t understand and trying to pretend that your inability to understand a biological fact and adults paying money for violating a law equates to not caring if children die. Seriously you either very dumb or you’re just a very dishonest and disingenuous person.

You made a disingenuous argument that is based on lies and your own ignorance. But hey. You wouldn’t be a pro-abort if you didn’t have to create strawmen and twist words and ignore points to make an argument since all the facts are against you.

You did a bad job. None of your “examples” are even remotely close to being fine with kids dying.

Be better.

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serenemy · 4 months ago

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regarding weed, psychosis, sometimes being messy and sometimes being wise and all of that. i am aware of the issue and engage in lots of introspection about everything related to

the thing is i was never not that way. i was just hiding it by living alone, having few friends and mostly only letting *other messy people* get close. (again i stare at you in how there have never been fewer mysteries)

so i was stressed the fuck out ALL the time. i did have the infections and head injuries i’ve mentioned but i also seriously believe the *physical processes* of stress and hyper vigilance can cause at least some of what im experiencing now

that’s why i always tell people you MUST take stress seriously. it’s worth taking those big scary jumps in life to avoid it even if everyone around you questions. you try to tough it for long enough and your body will eventually take steps the brain can’t override to shut the situation down. you don’t want to find out the way i did

so what you have to understand is that the things you think i should be doing to get out of this situation are the things i was already doing when the shit started. i didn’t drink or use any recreational drugs. i ate well. i exercised and gardened and took my kid hiking and swimming and extra curriculars. i had a job i liked with people i was fond of and enjoyed tremendously. i owned my own home with a front and back yard in a thriving college town in montana. i had everything i wanted in life and passionate plans for the future

if those things could solve the problem i would have never had the problem. in my heart of hearts, i know for reasons that have nothing to do with laziness, i know because i can physically *feel* it

i will never be able to handle stress again safely. i pushed things too far with my body. and now there are physical repercussions that can’t be unwound in any way yet known to science except

no more stress

no more *exertion* really. it’s why i wasn’t allowed to exercise for so long. i was an exerciser. i know the benefits. i exercised literally not to lose weight because i knew by then i wouldn’t but because i fucking loved the way it felt so so much

but here’s what happens with pem/pese: about a third of the time you get the endorphins. about a third of the time you don’t get them and it sucks but that’s it. a third of the time the attempt leaves you curled up in the fetal position in your yard telling your kid not to worry mommy just needs to rest for a minute because you can’t make it back into the house

and eventually your body is just like yeah that 1/3 of the time endorphins isn’t worth the gamble lady and it resists in ways you don’t understand until it happens to you

so if i want to pursue something creative or any sort of economic endeavor, it has to lean into my limitations. it’s easier for me to write at all or communicate at all if every thought is just immediately posted or sent out into the universe immediately when i have it. if i don’t do it exactly that way some things never get out. you have problems with attention, you live remote, you’re bed bound a lot, you’re socially awkward and you like the internet a lot anyway? okay instead of fighting that (which again we’ve already tried that route and it led here), lean into it. see if you can get something that you’re passionate about going online. the world wants to use feminine loneliness, longing, shame or neurosis against you?

turn it around on them. embrace your neuroses and loneliness and shame so hard they break and can’t be used as effectively against your children.

turn it into art and publish it yourself to the whole world

i can’t follow established routes to do economic and creative pursuits because those are for people with more standard brains, more standard physical health and more standard lives. i have to allow for weeks to months long breaks in continuity, slow processing, all the shit going on irl etc etc etc

i really do know what i’m doing here. the messiness is an element of the spell and yes it is one of the most dangerous ones i have ever tried to work. but it categorically isn’t bad magic. i don’t practice bad magic

an it harm none, do as though wilt includes yourself. my most basic fundamental code: contribute no harm. it means to myself, too

please let me see what this spell works up. because i have tried the other ones already and they don’t turn into magic *for me*

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roguestarsailor · 5 months ago

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Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I tried mountaineering today and tbh I felt kind of bad!! I didn’t understand how tough it was going to be and I feel kind of like a failure ��. Everyone in the group could keep up and can go practice doing life saving exercises but I decided to stay behind and wait it out at a rest stop. It’s wild cuz the mileage is low yet the elevation gain is a lot.

My ego is pretty hurt lol but i never said I’d be that good at it I guess. I’m feeling terrible about my body again but this time it’s because I wish I could have kept up with everyone else who are VERY fit. I feel so much like an outsider because I’m much heavier as a person and I don’t have the same endurance and muscles as everyone else. I was blaming my period but idk I never felt like vomiting on a hike before?? My heart rate was hella high and i felt like it was hard to breath at points. I feel like a lumbering mess!!

I’m tittering between wanting to start training so I can climb AND summit this mountain or just find a new sport. I don’t particularly enjoy this but I think it’d be rewarding doing it once.

The Russian guy had to help me carry my pack too so he was holding up soo much weight and yet he FLAWLESSLY hiked up in the snow. I felt so helpless but also grateful??? And also fuck I really need to learn to workout???

Anyways, I feel bad about this experience but I’m glad I got a chance to try it. We’re going back one last day and I’ll try to be better at it. But man I’m sad about my body and hyper aware of how much muscles and endurance I lack as and how it’s not equipped to handle much at all (and also a bit mad that nobody told me how difficult it was going to be nor prepared me for this so I feel like I wasn’t set up for success).

#amandathoughts #mountaineering

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chronocidalrage · 2 years ago

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Maybe I’m Not the Problem

Maybe I’m just beyond my world in some ways? I want more? I’ve always wanted more and that has made me feel like a circle in a square peg. It’s made me feel like the “bad” one, rather than the things around me being “bad.”

I’ve been blaming myself for being out of place when it may just be that my world isn’t up to my level or standard?

DENIAL Am I trying to avoid facing a truth? That Atom isn’t the best part of my life, he WAS the best part of my life. And it’s up to me who and/or what will be the best part of the rest of my life, if anything. I can’t go forward thinking Atom will always be the best part of my life. But it’s so hard to accept that he never will be again. Brutal.

Also hate how unhappy he was in his final years. Of all people to deserve happiness, he did.

Maybe I should apply more of my loving thoughts to myself as well. Don’t just treats yourself the way you wish to be treated. Sometimes treat yourself the way you’d treat Atom. You believe he’s worthy of the love you aren’t worthy of (in your mind).

The more I think about it. I think I’m angry that I lost Atom and Dad, and that I’m left with the ones I’m least emotionally connected to. Not because I wish they weren’t here, but because if they’re gonna be all I have left, I wish they loved me as much as Atom did.

I’m afraid the person who loves me most is already dead. That I’ll never be that loved again. It’s possible Susie loves me just as much or even more, but it’s hard for me to believe.

Atom got to die with me as the best part of his life. He got to end with things still close enough to good. We even had one final good talk. But I have to move on and accept him not being the best part of my life anymore. The only way that gets to remain true: that Atom is the best part of my life, is to give up. Those things are linked. And I don’t want to give up, but I can’t handle Atom not being the best part of my life. That truth has always made me feel so safe. And I can just feel that safety, that comfort just drifting away.

In the end, this is all about people. People really are the best part. You can create things, achieve things, improve your body. But the most complete person alone, is still alone. These things we can do on our own can make us happy and we should pursue them, it’s important. But life is really about the people and places and things that you get to be here the same time as. I get to be here the same time as Susie. We get to be on this earth at the same time as Ruby. We even get to be her family. That’s incredible. Don’t sleep on people.

I had to suffer for 41 years to find my favorite people, Atom, Susie, and Ruby. And I would happily suffer another 41 to be around even one of them and maybe find an additional favorite person along the way.

But I keep coming back to this shitty thought: nothing good can happen because if things were good, Atom would be here.

ANXIETY Everything is just fucking hard for me. Everything is exhausting and hard. I always feel uncomfortable and out of my element. Is this a winter thing? Do I need to just be healthier, eat better, exercise more and get vitamin D? Is that what’s going on? Probably not the ONLY thing that’s going on.

I want to feel more relaxed. Less nervous. Food and movies just feel safe, and nothing else does anymore.

I think being present makes me sad. I think about how alone I am. I think about everything and everyone I’ve lost. I get worried about the future. I get worried about my capabilities and possible future loss. My mind just gets flooded with negativity when I’m present and that’s really hard for me.

How do I get around it? How can I be present yet not be overwhelmed by the weight of the present? Is there a “surface” presence? Do I not know the difference between being present and over-analysis? Do I confuse the two?

Does food help to make reality more palatable? Like here’s something that’s good about it? And I tend to like simple food so I can’t over analyze it?

I dunno man, I may finally need something for anxiety. I don’t see my life getting LESS stressful.

I think I need to take a movie break. Movie and junk food break. I can replace it with reading and eating breakfast I make in the morning. Watch less stuff. Be more present.

Eat better. Exercise. Do more things. Get myself used to living. Think less.

When you really get to know someone, they feel permanent. Like your own voice. It’s incredibly difficult when that person is somehow gone.

I’ve definitely thought of this before but I definitely always think of what I CAN do and what I NEED to do.

Rather than what I WANT to do and what I SHOULD do.

I think of things like “I could make a giant Friends thread with funny descriptions of the show” but I don’t do it. Why? Because I don’t really want to. It could be fun, but it’s not important to me, so I never find time to do it. I’m always looking for dopamine sources. Movies I could watch. People I could please. Things I could eat. Just constantly looking for the most reliable sources of dopamine. It’s hard for me to resist a chance at it.

Rather than focusing on what I want, I focus on what consoles me for not getting what I want.

So I’m always ignoring my natural self because I don’t trust its instinct. I think my natural self is primal. I want this. This sounds good. But I don’t trust that side of me. For several reasons. The biggest of which is that I think what I want is irrelevant, it’s what I CAN HAVE that matters. And I don’t want to miss something I can have because I believe I’m just going to have less and less.

Anxiety and over-analysis are borderline the same thing. Over-analysis leads to anxiety. Focusing on something simple helps because it allows us to stop analyzing. I’m analyzing too hard in order to find opportunities. Openings. Open doors to something that will feel good.

And I think that’s why I get so upset if Susie doesn’t want to do something or isn’t happy to see me. I see it as adding to the potential belief that my chances of finding simple happiness are decreased around Susie. Which I hate thinking. So I obsess over her watching stuff I want to watch or eating something I’d enjoy together. I want more things, but I don’t see other things as reliable moments of joy.

I want safety because it makes my quest for joyous moments less tense. The stakes are lowered so I can look for happiness more casually.

Is the cure to anxiety to not “think” at all? Like, let the engine reboot?

I see life as a scavenger hunt. Like I’m always hunting for joy. And if one tunnel has big joy way down, I’m like “no thank you, I’d have to ignore all these easier sources of joy in order to get there.” It’s so hard now because I used to have this super reliable source of happiness. I knew where it was, it could come to me, just this amazing constant source of joy, who also helped me find more joy. Now I feel more lost. More likely to miss joy, more likely to struggle to earn it. More likely to run into bad things in the process.

We were both joy scavengers. Dumb name. I really still can’t believe you’re gone. It still seems impossible. I feel like I just saw you. I can remember you knocking on the window in the living room at Neponset.

I could see Atom’s pain and I knew what would help. And I told everyone and no one listened to me.

I know it would’ve been up to you. But like me, if your life were more full of love and joy, you would’ve been okay hunting less. If your needs were being met, you’d stop hunting so hard.

Atom just wanted to be loved. And he wasn’t loved enough, people just kept giving him opportunities to love them instead. And he did. I wanted Atom to be the target of the love. I wanted him to see proof that he was better than what he was giving himself. See and feel all this love and see how the way he treated himself wasn’t in line with how loved he was. That’s all I wanted people to do: love the guy. And everyone decided they’d rather be loved BY him. I get why. Who wouldn’t want to be loved by him? He’s the fucking greatest. Did they not feel capable of loving him enough? Did they feel like it wouldn’t matter what they did? Was it their self esteem? They felt way too small to do that for him?

I can’t imagine asking someone to do something annoying for me and saying “don’t worry, I’m worth it.” Wild.

Yeah I focus on CAN and NEED, because that’s my quickest route to joy and my easiest way out of pain. Do what I can, but only worry about what you need. As long as you do that, you should be able to avoid major pain and have fairly easy access to joy.

But instead you should focus on WANT and SHOULD. Because need tends to take care of itself. When you really do need to do something, your brain tends to tell you. There are things you should do but don’t need to do. There are things you’re gonna want to do but you can’t do currently. I can see why I avoid these but they’re the path to a better life. Do what you should do and do what you want in between.

LEARNING I feel like I’m learning new things about me and my life every day. I keep wondering when I’ll have learned enough, but I don’t think that ever happens.

FRIENDS I think the world I grew up in builds friendships on mutual interest and maybe accomplishments. Not quality of character as much. I think I want friends who are legit good people and that’s made me feel out of place with others.

I think I’ve always been annoyed by how not cool some people are.

That said, I’ll always think Brendan was cool for stepping in to help Susie at the holiday party.

Looking back, there’s all these signs of why I didn’t feel like I belonged in groups. I didn’t want to be friends with people who were assholes to me, so I didn’t have a lot of friends. Andy and them didn’t seem to like me that much and didn’t make me feel very welcome so I didn’t feel like putting in effort to make them like me. They dropped me instantly when shows stopped happening, shit like that.

Jimmy and his friends were awful. I hated being at those parties at his apartment and had no interest in being friends with those guys, I just wanted to be accepted by them but didn’t want to have to earn it because they weren’t worth it. Interesting.

Maybe it’s time to accept that I’ve always felt out of place because I want more than the people around me. And the other people who want more make me feel insecure or I feel like I can’t relate to them because I’ve never quite pulled off HAVING or GETTING more.

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that-is-just-so-typically-me · 2 years ago

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I’ve finally solved the mystery as to why I couldn’t keep a diary as a kid for more than a few days despite no shortage of thoughts, feelings, and ideas: my executive dysfunction makes it less likely that I’ll perform a regular task the more pressure I put on myself to do it on an exact schedule! That, and whatever else makes me feel that if I’ve missed one day of that task, I’ve “ruined it”, and it’s both pointless and impossible to pick up again the next day (luckily, I got a handle on the latter issue in my earlier twenties). I’ve decided I’d like to start journaling somewhere again, but without the pressure of doing so every day. It’s apparently good for the memory, especially if you recount anecdotes from your day.

I was wondering whether journaling would actually help me repair some of the trauma from the last year - I’ve never done anything like that except perhaps a little on Tumblr. I think it might help because of the way my trauma settled - not into where it always had, where I was able to show and discuss it regularly to my support group, which buoyed me along as I healed myself. I think it got and has remained so out of hand because my regular social patterns and interactions are so different compared to 2019. I think a part of me is still fully stuck in quarantine (while I am masking and being careful n public, I can see my friends now, barriers of time and energy aside). I got out of the habit of having intimate conversations about what I’m going through, as it’s never been easy for me to converse online like it is in person. So everything just kind of stays in my head in this whirling snow globe of thought, where the individual pieces remain out of sight until happenstance brings them to the fore of my mind again. I think writing it down will give it some permanence and help me sort of quilt the pieces together in a way I that will help me understand the big picture, and make it feel less intimating to articulate to, therefore process, with others.

Anyway, a few boundaries I’ve realized I want to and will set for (and with) myself:

-No thinking about climate change past 7pm, unless it’s for school.

-I’m snoozing or unfollowing anyone who posts AI-generated art. I’m still checking my feelings and forming my opinion on the subject, but it makes me feel insane to casually scroll past AI-art, especially that looks like photographs, and realize I didn’t catch that it was AI-generated at first. I don’t know my stance on it yet, but being online has been shredding my mental health these past couple of years, and this has been the second-to-last straw in a lot of ways (not the last - I’m still here, but a lot less).

-I take on nothing that isn’t required for life-admin, school, or career-building where my first instinct at the offer or request is the specific “where would I get the time for that” feeling of panicked dread that I get when I’ve already taken on the maximum amount of commitments. Be that a regular commitment to an activity (i.e. agreeing to join a DnD campaign) or a one-time event (i.e. getting brunch with a friend next week). I extend myself, but I don’t overextend myself - the trade off is that I maintain a better awareness of which friendship or part of my life needs watering and TLC, or who I simply want to give that to, and extend myself there when I next can. I never plan to use up more than 80% of my energy (physical, mental, etc.) and I exercise caution throughout my days to maintain a trajectory that’ll get me no further than that 80%. The extra 20% can be there for the unexpected and what is out of my control, but is intended to be where the rest and recovery is, and where I’m able to bring quality to everything else. It gives me stillness, perspective, spontaneous pleasure, time to think and repair. It’s a regular audit of my satisfaction with choices, and it’s my ability to be present in my body and the space it’s in. I know I’m growing in the other 80% of my day, but unless I have that extra time and energy to truly go into myself with a curious eye (and to ask about and indulge whatever I discover in my heart - and which is, I am starting realize, how I can truly tell what I want and value, and how my heart feels listened to and heard) I don’t actually see or synthesize that growth into my self-concept. But I never reach 100% unless necessary, and I prioritize doing something intentional to recover from it when I must.

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chibird · 3 years ago

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Hello everyone! A bit ago, I mentioned I made a big life update that I wasn't ready to share with everyone yet. Well, I'm finally ready! I'm going to be working on Chibird full-time now!!! I had essentially been working two full-time jobs for the past few years, as both a software engineer in the day and running Chibird at night and on the weekends, and it wasn't sustainable. Some days, I would finish work at 5, take a 30 minute break, and then start drawing or packing Patreon club shipments. I was anxious and overworked. With everything I was trying to spread about self compassion and mental health, it didn't make sense to continue working myself to the bone. In the past few months, I've been able to accomplish so much more for Chibird, like finishing my 2022 calendar in time for the holidays and designing new merchandise! And maybe even more importantly, I've been able to rest my body and soul, resting at night, taking weekends without working, and trying to exercise more too! Are things changing for Chibird? Only in a good way! I'll still be posting all my art for free a few times a week, but now, I'll be able to work on new, bigger projects, like making a plushie! I've been nervous to share because it felt really personal, and I didn't want expectations of me to change- I'm still just one person handling all of the art, messages, manufacturing, marketing, and so on, and a big part of the change was also to take care of my health. But at the end of the day, I know you all are some of the most understanding people, and you wouldn't have expected anything more than what I was able to give. I'll be going slow and steady- I won't be able to put out all the things I've been dreaming of for the past 10 years just this year, but I'll start to tackle one after the other in the hopefully many years to come! If you enjoy my art and want to see more projects from Chibird, you can join my Patreon where I share behind-the-scenes, create phone wallpapers, and ship out limited edition monthly mail! Tumblr, Instagram, and Facebook have paid me a grand sum of $0 over the years, and Patreon was a big reason why I could make this change for myself. I know it’s not possible for everyone, and that’s totally okay- I'm just glad you're here and enjoy my art!

This comic feels kind of raw, but I wanted to be totally candid and show you all a snippet of my journey that I don't often share. It was pretty tough trying to condense years of feelings and challenges and dreams into one comic, but I think it's better to just get it out there than fuss over it for another few months! I hope the text here makes everything clearer. It's been 11 years since I started Chibird when I was in school, and it brings tears to my eyes to say, I'm finally working on Chibird full-time! With much love, Jacqueline

#personal #chibird

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bcdrawsandwrites · 2 years ago

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[ID: A Psychonauts fanfic chapter banner. On the left side of the banner is white text reading “Chapter 4: Old Intel.” On the right is Raz in his Psychonauts 2 outfit, shown from behind and turned slightly to the right, looking very frightened as he looks back as he’s held by his collar by a glowing purple TK hand that looks like Loboto’s. /end ID]

Psychonauts Ruin Everything

Fandom: Psychonauts Rating: K+ Genre: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort Characters: Razputin Aquato, Caligosto Loboto, Morceau Oleander, Otto Mentallis, Sasha Nein, Milla Vodello, Truman Zanotto Warnings: References to child abuse and medical abuse Description: A few days after the whirlwind of events of Psychonauts 2, Razputin receives his first mission as a Junior Psychonaut: go into the mind of the recently-re-captured Caligosto Loboto and make sure he’s ready to be released… and if not, well… go from there. But it shouldn’t be that hard, right? Loboto’s all better now that his moral compass is back… isn’t he? Beta Readers: @jaywings and @of-science-and-stars (also HUGE THANKS TO @causticbicaudate FOR DOING THE LINEART OF THIS BANNER FOR ME)

—~~~—

Chapter 4: Old Intel

Summary: In which Raz has to relay some intel and the mission gets a whole lot more complicated.

---~~~---

With a gasp, Raz was back in Oleander's office. He was still sitting in the desk chair... but Loboto was no longer in the chair across from him. He was standing, the device Otto had given him rapidly unwinding itself from his body. The cables bound themselves up into a tight ball before dropping to the ground, the light in front of the device turning from green to red with a low-pitched bloop.

Loboto stared down at Raz, and Raz stared up at Loboto, raising his goggles with one hand and gripping the armrest of the chair with the other. "D-Doctor Loboto," he stammered. "Are you, um... f-feeling any better?"

The doctor's smile widened unpleasantly as he towered over Raz. "I think I'm feeling something."

Raz really, really wished he'd asked Oleander how to keep someone restrained with TK. "Is that... um... a good something, or—"

Without warning Loboto made a grasping gesture with his hand, and Raz found himself hoisted up by the collar of his turtleneck by a spindly, glowing purple hand. Loboto was wincing and his hand was shaking, and Raz was wobbling in his grip, but Loboto continued to grin. "Oh, yes, it's definitely a good something."

For the moment Raz found himself paralyzed. Yet in spite of how his heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts were oddly calm. I can't attack him. If I do, he could retaliate, and I don't know what he's capable of. Instead of fighting back, he held up his hands submissively. "Hey, you can... you can use your powers again! That's great! If you want, w-we can—"

"I have you to thank for that!" Loboto cried, lifting Raz slightly higher. "What a good boy! So nice and helpful! Such a model patient."

"P-patient—?!"

"No, how silly of me. I suppose you'd be the doctor this time around, wouldn't you?" Loboto flinched, and Raz dipped in his grasp, yelping. "Whoopsie! Still need to exercise this muscle a bit."

"Yes, you do!" Raz cried, nodding frantically. "You'll need practice and training, and we can help you—"

"Help, yes!" Loboto went on, hoisting Raz back up with his TK again. "I think I can handle the physical therapy on my own. What I need..." He leaned in closer, and in spite of his smile, his brow furrowed. "...is a discharge form."

In Raz's panicked state, it took him a moment to piece together what Loboto meant. "You—you want me to have you released?"

"Yes! Precisely." Loboto reached out with his claws, and Raz flinched away, only to feel himself patted lightly on the head. "You're going to tell your little psychic friends that I am all better, and you are going to release me."

The telekinetic grip holding Raz was shuddering, and Raz wasn't sure if it was because Loboto was struggling with it, or because he was angry. If it was the former, maybe Raz could do something, but if it was the latter, he was in trouble. Not worth the risk right now, he decided, and hesitantly met Loboto's gaze. "Okay, um... first, if you could put me down—"

"Then you agree to let me go?"

Raz managed a weak smile. "I... just think we'd be able to discuss it better when I'm not six feet off the floor."

"Oh no you don't!" Loboto growled, his face twitching. Raz couldn't tell if he was being shaken, or if Loboto's grip was just that unsteady. "I'm not releasing you until you agree to release me. Do we have an agreement?"

This is not going as well as I'd hoped, Raz thought meekly. "I... I'm not sure if—"

"Do we have an agreement?!" Loboto snarled, his eyes flashing.

Before Raz could respond, several things happened in short succession.

The door slammed open, and Loboto released Raz just in time for a large, green psychic fist to collide with the doctor and knock him flying into the wall. Raz, meanwhile, crashed onto the chair beneath him. Gasping, he looked toward the doorway to find Coach Oleander with one hand to his temple, the other held in front of him in a fist.

"Coach!" Raz cried, scrambling off the office chair. Though he was still rattled, he felt more stable when his feet touched the ground.

"I knew this weirdo was gonna cause trouble," Oleander growled before glancing at Raz. "You all right, soldier?"

"F-fine!" Raz replied, though he felt himself shaking.

"What was that?" Loboto whined, raising his head from where he'd been knocked off his feet. "I thought we had a truce...?" Upon seeing Oleander, however, he clenched his claws together. "Oh, little army man! I didn't think we'd be seeing each other again so soon."

"Shut it, Cal!" With a quick sweep of his hand, Oleander snatched Loboto with TK, holding him firmly. He then smiled at Raz. "That's how you restrain an enemy."

"I’m not an enemy—I'm a changed man!" Loboto cried, kicking out with his feet.

"He is different now, Coach Oleander," Raz said, holding up his hands. "I went into his mind—into a really deep part of it, and he told me himself he didn't want to steal brains anymore."

Oleander frowned. "That doesn't explain why he was holdin' you up in his... uh..." He blinked. "...Your psychic energy isn't purple, is it, soldier?"

"About that..." Raz rubbed the back of his helmet sheepishly. "I may have... kinda... helped him... remove the mental block for his psychic powers..."

"Psychic... powers...?" Oleander's gaze darted from Raz to Loboto several times. "You're tellin' me this guy's been a psychic all along?"

"I... may have forgotten to mention a few things I saw when I entered his mind the first time," Raz said, and wrapped his arms around himself. Already he was thinking back to the trouble he'd caused in Agent Forsythe's mind and how he hadn't told anyone until it had turned dangerous. "It... it seemed too private, and I didn't think it would come up again." Looking up, he feared the Coach might be angry, but his expression was softer than he'd expected.

"You psychics are one to talk about privacy," Loboto muttered, looking away.

At Loboto's interruption, Oleander frowned again. "You remember what I taught you about memory vaults, soldier?"

Raz thought for a moment. "You... said that the enemy isn't allowed secrets at wartime. But—"

"That applies here, too." Oleander turned his gaze back to Loboto. "Looks like we'll need to take him back to the others to sort things out. This is a bigger deal than we thought." Waving for Raz to follow, he hauled Loboto out of the office via TK.

"Uuugh, not this again!" Loboto whined as he continued to struggle in Oleander's grip. "I wanna leave!"

Initially Raz stepped toward the door before remembering something, and turned around to snatch Otto's device from the floor and put it in his bag. "Is it really that big of a deal?" he asked as he ran to catch up with Oleander. "I don't think he's very good at psychic powers."

Loboto's gaze snapped over to Raz, his brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

"Good enough to cause problems," Oleander remarked. He put a hand to his temple again, then nodded a moment later. "Otto's gonna meet with us in Truman's office."

Raz nodded, only for his stomach to give a jolt. Please don't call Sasha—

"Sasha and Milla are on their way, too."

"Aren't they kinda... busy, though?" Raz asked hesitantly. "We probably shouldn't bother them."

"They wouldn't exactly be happy if I didn't report to them," the Coach muttered.

"Right," Raz said, wrapping his arms around himself and keeping his gaze to the floor. Memories of just how angry Sasha and Milla had been with him after he'd messed things up in Agent Forsythe's mind flitted through his head, and his stomach knotted up at the thought that he would have to go through that again.

That's not a proper march, soldier, Oleander said over telepathy.

Shaking himself, Raz straightened his back and dropped his arms. Right, sorry, sir.

You all right?

Raz winced. Well... it's just... I really messed this up. He glanced at Loboto, who was staring with interest at the aquarium as they passed it. I just wanted to help him.

What, him? That guy's a bit of a wild card. Oleander shrugged. You never know what's gonna happen with him. I didn't expect him to come back with a pepper grinder for an arm when I— He faltered.

Raz glanced quickly between Loboto and Oleander, one eyebrow raised.

Oleander went on quickly: Point is, pretty sure this one isn't your fault. The guy’s unpredictable. You're not gonna hear Nein chew you out over this one, if that's what you're worried about.

Oh. Some of the tension eased from Raz's shoulders, but then he gave a jolt. Wait, how did you know about...?

The Coach didn't answer, only frowning and looking away.

Before Raz could question him again, the nearest Otto B.O.N. slammed open as they passed, and Otto himself sprang out of it, landing neatly next to Raz. "Already back with an update, eh Razputin?" he asked, eyebrows raised in interest. "How did my invention work out, by the way?"

TKing the device out of his bag, Raz held it up awkwardly. "So, about that..."

—-~~~—-

The meeting room was silent.

Raz fidgeted in his chair, looking every which way to avoid looking at Oleander, Truman, Otto, Sasha, or Milla, though he was pretty sure he could feel their gazes upon him. Loboto, who had been struggling in Oleander's grip for most of the time he'd been held, was now very still and silent. His shoulders were hunched, his lips a tight line, and his gaze was out the window and focused on the Nerve Center below. For a moment Raz considered apologizing to him, but what good would that do now?

It was Otto who finally broke the silence. "A lobotomy victim," he murmured. "Those didn't usually fare too well."

If it were possible, Loboto went even more tense. Raz finally looked up to cast a worried glance around the table, suddenly wondering if they would say something to set him off.

Otto's gaze was trained on Loboto, his brow furrowed seriously. Truman was rubbing his forehead, eyes wide as he seemed to still be processing the new information, while Oleander had lowered his head in thought. Farther down the table, Milla's gaze had gone distant, while Sasha's expression remained unreadable beneath his goggles, though he was turned slightly toward Milla. I wonder what they're talking about, Raz thought, only to give a start when Oleander spoke.

"I... heard about those being done, back in the day," he remarked, fiddling with his hands. "It's... part of why I never told my folks. But I'd never heard of it actually being done to..."

"I've not seen any records of such a thing," Sasha remarked. "To adults, certainly, especially back when psychic powers were still categorized as an illness. But to be done to a child..."

"There's no record of it," Truman echoed. "None. We had agents sent out to hospitals to gather intel on this sort of thing. Sabotages, even, whenever we caught it. But it was always adults, never children. If any records existed, they must have been destroyed or modified."

"Wouldn't shock me," Otto remarked. "Psychic prejudice or no, something like that happening to a child would've created quite the stir! They likely didn't want it known."

"Neither did I," Loboto growled through his teeth, still refusing to look up.

Raz flinched; maybe he should have apologized, but it seemed too late for it now.

"...Caligosto."

In spite of how soft her voice had been, Milla immediately drew the attention of those present in the room (except for Loboto, whose optics had not turned from the window). Her face was drawn in sympathy, and she looked as though she wanted to move closer. "We understand that you didn't want this discussed—"

"But you did it anyway," Loboto snapped, finally looking up. His gaze was aimed at Milla, whose expression did not change, while Loboto's face twisted in a furious smile. "Yes! It's a common trend for you Psychonauts. 'Sorry to dredge up your worst memories, doctor, but it's for the mission!' 'We don't mean to hurt you, but we're going to use fifty different devices on you until we get what we want.' 'We won't barge into your brain without your permission, but we're gonna keep pestering you until we get that permission.' Right?"

Raz's gaze darted uneasily between Loboto and the others. While Truman and Oleander both glared at Loboto, the latter with his fists clenched, Otto merely watched on in surprise. Sasha's mouth was drawn in a tight line, but Milla, to Raz's surprise, didn't seem upset. If anything, she was looking at the doctor with more sympathy.

"We all want what's best for you, Caligosto," she said. "We know you're hurting, and—"

The doctor let out an ugly laugh that made Raz wince, and several others at the table gave a start.

"Oh! Were you serious?" he asked, his voice edged in bitterness. "Now you give me sympathy?" Again he let out another peal of laughter. "That's rich! What do you think it'll get out of me, huh? You think you can butter me up with a bunch of lies about feeling sorry for me? Won't work, you stupid—"

Sasha stood up, and Raz could feel the glare beneath his goggles. Loboto's gaze turned to meet him, though no part of him seemed intimidated.

"Enough!" Truman cried, standing up and urging Sasha to sit. "This will get us nowhere. What's done is done—we all understand what's happened to the doctor."

Slowly Sasha took a seat, and Truman with him. The room went silent again as some of the tension eased.

Raz was the one to break the silence this time. "So... what does this mean for us? For him?"

The Grand Head of the Psychonauts looked tired, and Raz wasn't sure if that was due to the situation or just his permanent state of being. "Well... that's what we're here to discuss," he said, leaning forward. "There's no precedent for this sort of thing happening. We've dealt with those who have attempted to hide psychic powers from us, but they never get very far. But to have had psychic powers..." He gestured uncertainly. "...removed, for lack of a better term, only for them to grow back..."

"It's extraordinary!" Otto cut in. "Imagine the implications! Truman, I know you've told me no before, but—"

"I don't think they grew back," Raz said, sitting up straighter. "I think he always had them, he was just... afraid to use them."

"Afraid?!" Loboto snarled. "I'm not afraid of anything!"

"Yeah," Oleander raised an eyebrow. "Just like you weren't afraid of Nick making you face an old lady—"

A pen weakly flicked across the desk in Oleander's direction, but that in combination with the glare Loboto was giving him silenced him.

"Enough about me," Loboto went on, finally facing the others. "Let's talk about you. Mainly, let's talk about you letting me out of here!"

"Oh yeah, you've proved yourself real trustworthy on that front," Oleander grumbled.

"You're one to talk about trust, mister traitor!" Loboto shot back, and Oleander grit his teeth.

"He did say he didn't want to take anyone's brains anymore, though," Raz said, looking over to Loboto. "Right?"

"Right, yes, no more 'stealing brains' on the menu for me. I'm fully reformed and ready to leave."

Truman eyed him, leaning away from his direction. "I'm... not sure we can trust him on that one."

"But I went into his mind and everything! I talked to his inner child, the one that was still afraid of using his powers. He... he said he didn't want to be messing with brains like his father did."

To Raz's surprise, Oleander's expression softened, while Otto and Sasha exchanged glances. "The deeper parts of the brain are more reliable than the surface level," Sasha put in begrudgingly.

Otto nodded. "That's right. I don't believe there's any reason to distrust him in that regard."

Finally Loboto seemed to brighten, his gaze darting between Sasha, Otto, and Truman.

"That is good to know," Truman admitted, rubbing his forehead, and Loboto's smile almost looked genuinely happy for once. "But that says nothing about whether or not he could plan to hurt others, which he has plenty of means to do with his newfound psychic abilities."

Loboto's face fell, and he kicked the underside of the desk.

"Further investigation and treatment will be needed," Truman went on. "In addition, I'd like to see some form of psychic training for him to give him proper control of those powers."

"Training?!" Loboto wailed.

He wasn't the only one bewildered by the Grand Head's statement. Sasha and Milla were both eyeing each other in silent communication. Otto meanwhile leaned back, rubbing his chin in thought, and Oleander looked between Loboto and Truman a few times. "No offense, sir," he began, "but is it really in our best interest to get that bozo to hone his psychic powers?"

"You tell me, Agent Oleander." Truman raised a brow. "You work at the camp. You of anyone should know how much of a danger untrained psychics can be, both to themselves and others."

"...Point taken."

Looking away, Raz gripped the armrests of his chair. "Learning how to use them the right way is important, too."

"Exactly," Truman said, and Raz felt his heart lift a little. "With that settled, I believe we're in agreement?"

"No, we're not in agreement!" Loboto growled. "I didn't agree to any of this!"

Truman eyed him evenly. "If you're so eager to leave, doctor, we can have that arranged."

"Oh, good! Call me a cab, then, why don't you—"

As Truman leaned toward Loboto, the faintest smile appeared on his face. "No, I believe the police would be the ones escorting you."

Loboto's optics flashed, and he growled, kicking the table again. Half a second later, one of the pens sitting atop the table flicked in Truman's direction.

Without a hint of acknowledgement, Truman faced the rest of the table. "Now, given the strangeness of the circumstances, I believe Agent Aquato is in need of some assistance."

Jumping in his chair, Raz faced Truman anxiously. "Oh—I-I'm sorry, Grand Head Zanotto—"

"There's no need to apologize, Agent Aquato. You haven't done anything wrong. But as we've seen that this mission is a bit heavier than originally expected, I'm assigning you a senior agent to accompany you." With that, Truman's gaze turned to Oleander, who gave a jerk of surprise. "Agent Oleander, from here on out, you will be accompanying Agent Aquato on his mission."

"Wh-what?!" Oleander cried. "But sir, I have things to finish before I head back—"

"Oh, don't worry, Morry," Otto said with a laugh. "Your pet projects will be waiting for you when you return to the base."

Groaning, Oleander gave a defeated nod. "Yes, sir, I'll take care of it." He rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, guess I can’t complain too much about being sent on a mission…” Casting a glance back at Loboto, however, he frowned. “Just wish it wasn’t this one.”

Loboto huffed.

“Well, I wish I didn’t have to assign you this one either,” Truman went on, “but given you’re the only other senior agent available at the moment, I don’t have much choice in this matter. Just remember you do still need to report back to Agents Nein, Vodello, and me. Understood?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Truman clapped his hands together. "Good. If we've no more dissenting opinions here, I think I'm good to call this meeting to a close." Glancing at a clock on the wall, he frowned. "Normally I would send you off on your mission immediately, but since timing isn't dire here, I think we could all use some rest. Agents Nein, Vodello." The two turned their attention to him. "Has your examination of Gristol Malik ruled out the possibility of psychic powers?"

"That is correct, Truman," Sasha confirmed. "We've made little progress, but that's one thing we're certain of."

"Excellent. We'll have him moved from the psychoisolation chambers and to one of the holding cells. Since we've determined Loboto can use psychic powers, he'll be held in psychoisolation for the time being instead. I don't want those two anywhere near each other again," he finished with a shudder.

"I don't think he wants that either," Raz added quietly. He glanced back at Loboto, who gave a shudder as well.

"I don't mean to butt in, but my anti-psychic restraints haven't failed anyone yet," Otto said, leaning forward. "We could certainly use a set of those and just keep him in a holding cell—"

"Yeah, if you want him driven nuts from an itch in his back by morning," Oleander grumbled, reaching back to scratch his shoulder.

"Well, can't be much worse than a padded room and a straitjacket," Loboto said, and Raz turned to give him a worried look.

"It's been a long week," Milla put in. "The psychoisolation chamber will be more comfortable, and I think Caligosto could do with a proper rest."

"We all could. Including me." Truman pushed himself away from the desk, and all but Loboto followed suit. "Agents Nein and Vodello, if you could handle the transfer of Gristol Malik, please, and that should be all for tonight."

"Of course, sir," Sasha said. With that, he and Milla stepped out of the meeting room together, heading toward the Otto B.O.N. in Truman's office.

"As for Loboto," Truman went on, turning to face Raz, "would you and Agent Oleander move him to the psychoisolation chamber, please?"

"Yes, sir!" Raz said with a determined nod, and looked over to Oleander for confirmation. The Coach sighed begrudgingly, but nodded.

"I'll accompany them to make sure there's no mishaps," Otto said with a smile. "It's not far from my lab, anyway."

"Great!" Raz grinned, still ecstatic at the prospect of getting a mission straight from the Grand Head himself. However, his face fell when he looked back at Loboto, who still sat tensely in his chair. His expression did not change when Oleander lifted him back up with TK.

"Right. I got the cargo, so let's get going." Oleander opted to hoist him over the table rather than try to navigate him around the pushed-back chairs, then had to turn the doctor on his side to get him through the door. "Tall person comin' through... Hrmf. Don't get to say that often."

"Good night," Truman called, using his own TK to straighten up the meeting room as they stepped out.

As it wasn't possible to carry someone through the Otto B.O.N. system, the group had to walk all the way to the psychoisolation chamber. It was a good thing too, Raz realized, as it meant there was less of a risk of Loboto and Gristol seeing each other during the transfer; Sasha and Milla would have Gristol out long before they got there. Heck, they would probably get him to the holding cells before Raz's group even left the Motherlobe.

"This is some mission to have dropped on you before you head back to camp," Oleander muttered to himself as they descended down into the lobby.

"It seems like a fascinating opportunity!" Otto exclaimed. "I wish I'd been assigned to the case instead, but you know mental projection's not my forte."

"What a shame," Loboto mumbled, and Raz glanced back at him. His head and his optics were drooping, the lights in them dim. He didn't seem the type to give up easily, so he chalked it up to exhaustion.

Otto either ignored the comment or didn't seem to notice. "You'll have to tell me all about it when you're done."

"Yeah, sure thing," Oleander said, rolling his eye.

As they walked, Raz’s initial excitement of being sent on another mission by the Grand Head himself began to fade, and he thought about the reality of what it entailed. Soon now they’d be entering Loboto’s head yet again… and he mulled over what he’d seen there last time. A thought struck him, and he reached out to Oleander silently: Hey, Coach, can I ask you something?

Shoot, private.

Glancing back at Loboto, Raz frowned. You remember what I said about when I talked to Loboto’s inner child… but I don’t get what happened at the end. He kinda… wasn’t Loboto’s inner child anymore. Or something?

Oleander’s brow furrowed. That’s still him, though. Your inner child’s still a part of you, unless something weird’s going on.

Raz’s heart sank. So… that was really just Loboto the whole time, pretending to be a kid?

What? No, this stuff’s a lot more complicated than that. Oleander lifted his helmet with one hand to scratch beneath it with the other. Look, soldier, I’m a drill sergeant, not a psychologist. This part of the mind’s not my forte, but… Sasha was right about what he said earlier. The inner child’s a deeper part of you, and that stuff can’t really be faked.

While that did take the weight off Raz’s heart, he still found his brow furrowing in thought. But… how did he change like that?

I mean, I wasn’t there in the trenches with you when it happened… but it sounds like the main part of him figured out what was happening and stepped in and took control there.

Oh, I guess that makes sense… Looking back at Loboto again, though, it didn’t look like any part of him was in control now, as he was nearly dozing off in Oleander’s grip. He turned back to the Coach. Thank you, sir. He paused as something else occurred to him. But how come that never happened with your— He broke off, realizing that might not be a good thing to bring up at the moment.

At first he thought the Coach might’ve caught what he was saying, as Oleander winced when they stepped outside. The moon and stars shone in the dark-blue sky above, while lights scattered throughout the quarry kept the different paths lit. Raz was worried that Oleander was upset about the mention of his own mental world until he realized what the Coach was looking at.

The psychoisolation chamber sat on the other side of the quarry, and Oleander glanced from it, to Loboto, and then to Otto. "Say, Otto, speakin' of what you were saying earlier, about things that aren't people's fortes... D'you mind carrying him from here, Otto? I'm not crossin' all that with this bozo in tow."

"Not at all!" Brightening, Otto reached out with his own telekinetic hand, which snatched Loboto the second Oleander let go, quickly enough that the doctor didn’t seem to notice, his head still bobbing as he dozed.

"Thanks. Meet you there." With that, the Coach made for the nearest Otto B.O.N., leaving Raz and Otto to bring Loboto the rest of the way themselves. The trip across the quarry would involve a lot of levitation jumps for Raz, while Otto gracefully hovered alongside him, carrying Loboto just behind.

"Oh, this should be interesting as well!" Otto said as they finally approached the massive building.

Raz released his final thought bubble and landed softly on his feet. "What should?"

Otto carefully landed next to Raz. "Given the condition of his brain and the fact that you've recently reactivated his powers," he began, and completely failed to notice the sudden frantic gestures from Raz to stop talking, "I'm curious as to how it'll react to the filtered psilirium—"

"Wh-what?!" Loboto jerked fully awake, and his mechanical eyes retracted.

"Otto—" Raz hissed urgently, but the scientist went on:

"Oh, you know, psilirium has this peculiar effect on psychics—"

"I know what it does!" Loboto cried, flailing in Otto's grip. "Let me go! You're not giving that stuff to me again! I'll give you all a root canal!"

"Doctor Loboto, hey!" Raz called softly, rushing up to the doctor's side. "Listen, it'll be okay. It's filtered psilirium—it's not the same stuff they used on you, or what you used on Truman, all right? I know it sounds scary, but you're gonna be okay."

"Who said I was scared?!" Loboto snarled, in spite of the way he trembled in Otto's grasp.

"Razputin's not wrong, hypothetically," Otto put in. "I developed the first psychoisolation chambers with Compton Boole myself, and they're perfectly safe for both regular and non-psychics." Though whether they’ll be safe for you, we’ll have yet to see, he went on in his mind, and Raz winced.

"Come on," Raz said, waving them on ahead. "That receptionist is probably driving the Coach crazy..."

Once they took the lift up, they found that to be exactly the case. Oleander was leaning against the wall opposite of the check-in desk and massaging his temple, while Terryl was leaning over her desk and toward him, somehow seeming overwhelming in spite of being several yards away. "Yes, Terryl, I get it—"

"But you know, it's always so nice to hear from the senior agents! I don't see much of them other than Boole and Forsythe—HI!" she called, waving enthusiastically at the ones who had entered. "Hi! Hii! Oh, Otto Mentallis! And that boy from the other day! And... Hackett? Did I get your name right? Did I?"

"Oh finally," Oleander said, shoulders slumping in relief as he approached them. "Took you guys long enough to get here."

"We're here on an assignment from Truman," Otto said, nodding toward Terryl.

She beamed in excitement. "That's right! Agent Oleander was just telling me about that!"

"I was trying to..."

"Yes," Raz put in, holding up a finger as he approached the desk. "We just need to put Doctor Loboto here in a chamber overnight. Can you do that?"

"Not a problem! I just need some forms filled out." With that, she heaved a weighty stack of papers onto the desk.

"Uh—"

"Oh, I'll handle this," Otto said, quickly trading Loboto off to Oleander again and approaching the desk. "You two take him up to his room and let me know what happens."

Oleander glanced from Loboto to Terryl. "Yeah, but which—"

"Oh, it'll just be room two. One still needs to get cleaned out." Terryl waved them off and turned her attention back to Otto. "So Agent Mentallis, have you got any new inventions brewing?"

"Well, I—"

"Oh I just love that mental cobweb one, haha! Though I don't think I'd ever need to use it on myself!"

Leaving Otto to his fate, Raz and Oleander sneaked over to the levitation funnel, letting the Thinkerprint run its scan before they slipped inside with Loboto. "Geez, I thought we'd never get out of there," Oleander said, heaving a sigh of relief as Raz punched the button for room two.

Once they reached their destination, Loboto frowned down at the funnel. "My old elevator was much more efficient than these..."

"Pshaw." Oleander eyed Loboto askance. "The weirdo you had running that thing only let you up."

"Exactly!"

While Oleander and Loboto bickered, Raz approached the psychoisolation room before them, staring through the transparent walls. Unlike the one Compton had stayed in, which seemed cluttered and personalized, this one was a lot simpler. At one end sat a desk and a chair with paper and pens, and opposite of that was a twin bed. Just across from the door to the chamber was a bookshelf lined with a variety of psychic-related books and what looked like a stack of out-of-date magazines. In front of that was a flower-pattern bean bag chair. "Huh, looks cozy," Raz remarked.

"Could use a dentist chair and a... sink..." Loboto trailed off, his gaze drifting up above the chamber, then below it.

"What's eatin' you?" Oleander asked, raising an eyebrow. Both he and Raz followed the doctor's gaze, seeing the clusters of yellow psychoreactive crystals above and below the chamber. "What, scared of a little psilirium? You sure weren't before, back at the Rhombus."

"I'm not scared!" Loboto snarled, head snapping over in the Coach's direction. "Just not impressed with its lack of basic dental facilities!"

He didn't have his psychic powers before, Raz said telepathically. Also I... I think they used it on him when they... um... operated.

Oleander's mocking attitude quickly faded. Oh.

"I told you before, it'll be okay, Loboto," Raz said, giving what he hoped looked like an encouraging smile. "This stuff won't hurt you."

"I'm sure!" Loboto cried, kicking his feet in the air. Oleander had to hold him further away to avoid getting kicked in the face. "Just like what that green man put me through!"

"Eh, Nein's got some questionable methods," Oleander countered, "but Razputin's right. These psychoisolation chambers are fine, if a bit dull. I committed myself in one of these for a few hours once."

"Wait, really?" Raz turned to look at the Coach, brows raised.

"Vodello convinced me to try meditating in one once. I uh... fell asleep." Oleander scratched the back of his head. "Feels weird bein' in 'em, since you can't use your powers, but it's peaceful enough, I guess. Anyway, let's get you in here and go home."

Before Raz could ask how to get into the chamber, Oleander approached the door and placed a hand to his temple. Something within the door gave a quiet bleep, and it swung open. "All right, tall guy," he said, pulling Loboto feet-first into the short tunnel leading up to the door. "In you g—"

Loboto braced his feet against either side of the doorway.

"Oh come on!"

"No!" Loboto cried. His legs strained as Oleander tried to pull him into the chamber via telekinesis. "I'm not going in there! I've had enough!"

Oleander grit his teeth, only for his mouth to quirk in a strained smile. "All right, fine, have it your way." With that, he eased Loboto backwards out of the entryway... only to spin him around to attempt to shove him through the door headfirst.

Loboto kicked him square in the head, sending his helmet flying.

"AGH!"

"You know the orderlies did eventually give up trying to keep me in solitary," Loboto said matter-of-factly while Oleander rubbed his head. "I can keep this up far longer than you can!"

"You oversized toothpick! I'm gonna—"

"Coach, stop!" Raz got between the two of them, for all the good it would do. He took a quick glance back at Loboto to make sure he wouldn’t kick him in the head as well. "I don't think this is helping."

Oleander raised a brow at him as he reached down to pick up his helmet. "You got any better ideas, soldier?"

Biting his lip, Raz turned around to face the doctor. "...Doctor Loboto," he said slowly, "I know you don't have a lot of reasons to trust us. I know it... hasn't been fun for you here."

"Not for any of us, either," Oleander muttered.

"To say the least!" Loboto shot back.

Raz ignored the comments. "But... can you at least trust me?"

The request caught Loboto off-guard. His optics flicked from Raz, to Oleander, and back, and he let out an uncertain grumble before looking away.

Hesitantly Raz reached out, and took Loboto's hand.

The doctor gave a body-wide jerk, swinging his head over to glare down at Raz. He struggled to pull his hand away (not an easy task with his arms pinned to his side), but stopped. Slowly his gaze turned to his hand, then back to Raz, who kept a firm but gentle grip. The lights in his eyes flicked once in a blink.

"Please," Raz urged. "Just this once."

Loboto looked down at the floor, and remained silent.

Look, soldier, I don't think this is gonna work, Oleander said over telepathy, and Raz lowered his head. Give me a minute and I'll call for backup—

"Okay."

Wait what—

Raz's head snapped back up to find Loboto was looking at him again. "You—?"

"I said okay!" Loboto snapped. "You need a signed form or something?"

"I—no! No, that's fine!" Glancing back at Oleander, Raz found him just as surprised. "I guess, uh..." Strangely, he found himself smiling up at the doctor. "...Thanks."

Loboto's eyes flicked over to his right. "Hurry up before I change my mind."

"Welp, you heard the man," Oleander said, preparing to move him via TK again, but Raz held up a hand. "Huh?"

"No, Coach... Could you let him go?"

"Are you kidding me?!" the Coach cried. He looked down at Raz, who maintained eye contact with him, and sighed. "All right..." He heaved a sigh, then pointed a threatening finger at Loboto. "If you try anything funny, I'll send you sailing into the wall like I did earlier."

"That won't be easy for me. I have quite the sense of humor, you know!"

"Rrgh..."

Slowly Oleander lowered Loboto until his feet touched the ground, and released him from his telekinetic grip. Raz, meanwhile, kept hold of his hand.

"Ready?" Raz asked, giving him a gentle tug toward the entryway.

"Not really, but it's not like you give me much of a choice." Loboto's brow furrowed, but he hesitantly allowed Raz to lead him toward the psychoisolation room. He had to duck to get through the entryway, and stopped just before the door. His breathing had quickened.

Raz squeezed his hand, and led him into the chamber.

The world fell silent.

Raz let out a gasp, and Loboto started as well, looking around the chamber and down at himself. But no, he could hear the sound of his own breathing and the tapping of Loboto’s boots against the floor. He hadn't lost his hearing—he'd lost his sixth sense.

He hadn't realized how many voices he'd learned to tune out until they were suddenly gone.

Otherwise, though, he felt fine—like he could still run and jump his way through the quarry, albeit without levitation. He shook his head. "Sorry, that just startled me, is all. How are you feeling, Doctor Loboto?"

"Uh... okay..." He gingerly brought his claw up to his shower cap. "I think...?"

"It does feel a little weird at first, but... see? We're both fine!"

"I suppose so." Loboto looked down, saw Raz was still holding his hand, and roughly yanked it away. "Enough of that!"

"Right, sorry." With that, Raz backed away toward the door. "Well... goodnight, Doctor Loboto."

Loboto looked away, muttering something that may have been "goodnight” before his optics turned back to focus on him intently. He took a step toward him, looking like he was about to reach out with his prosthetic.

"Uh... See you tomorr—woah!"

Raz was yanked backward out of the chamber, and the door slammed behind him. All at once his psychic senses came back, leaving his head swimming, and he was pretty sure he briefly saw figments. When his vision returned to normal, he found the Coach glaring through the slot in the door. "Hey," Raz protested, "what was that—"

Oleander whipped back around to face him, his face red. "What were you doing, Raz?!" he hissed, and Raz took a step back in surprise. After casting a quick glance back at the chamber behind him, the Coach hurried out of the entryway tunnel.

Brow furrowed, Raz followed him out. "I was getting him into the chamber! What do you think I—"

"You got the both of you into that chamber!" Oleander whispered harshly, pointing an accusing finger in Raz's face. Before Raz could protest, he went on, "He doesn't have his psychic powers in there, but neither do you! Who do you think's gonna win in a fight between you and a nine-foot-tall criminal, huh?"

Raz felt the blood drain from his face as he envisioned the claw that had reached toward him, and his stomach fell. "Oh... oh, man, I didn't even think..."

"I told you, he's unpredictable! You could've—!" Oleander cut himself off, and sighed, the proper color finally returning to his face. He dragged his hand over it.

Raz's gaze drifted to the floor. "Sorry, Coach," he said, his voice catching.

"Ugh. I'm sorry too, soldier. You just... scared me for a minute there." Looking back up, Raz found Oleander eyeing Loboto through the transparent walls. "Y’know, there's a reason I..." He trailed off.

"...A reason you what, sir?" Raz asked, swallowing.

The Coach gave a start. "Nothing, it's... nothing. C'mon, let's get you out of here."

Raz followed Oleander back to the levitation funnel, but looked back into the chamber just before they descended.

Loboto stared back, red-and-green eyes piercing into his own.

—~~~—

Raz wrapped his arms around himself as he hopped out of the Otto B.O.N. He'd parted ways with Oleander and Otto, but the Coach's words were still ringing in his head.

He knew Loboto was unpredictable. Even before Oleander had said it, he'd known. He'd seen what had happened in the Rhombus, when Loboto had gone from freeing everyone one moment to blowing up the place the next. And even hours ago, he'd just been helping Loboto's inner child, only for the doctor to use his newfound psychic abilities against him. Raz had his own psychic powers though, too, and if worse came to worst, he probably could've held his own against Loboto. But... in the psychoisolation chamber...

Who do you think's gonna win in a fight between you and a nine-foot-tall criminal, huh?

Loboto wouldn't... really hurt him now, would he? After all that had happened?

As he returned to the caravan and his mom chided him for coming home so late (but handed him the leftovers she'd set aside for him), he found his thoughts still drifting back to the mission.

No, Loboto couldn't be completely unpredictable. There had to be a reason for the way he acted.

He'd just have to find it.

Upon finishing dinner, Raz felt like he had weights tied to his limbs. He somehow managed to stumble off to bed, finally managing to relax among the familiar smells and sounds of his home, grateful to have somewhere safe to return to after a long day. But as he settled into his blankets, a thought crossed his mind:

Where did Loboto have to return to?

#caligosto loboto #razputin aquato #morceau oleander #otto mentallis #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #truman zanotto #sasha nein #milla vodello #my art #my writing #fanfic #psychics ruin everything

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