#its been so bad man like just. panic attacks ive felt like i was dying like its just been such a bad state

[thelaughingmerman]

part of what gets me is i cannot explain to you just how bad of a state ive been in the past. god six months now i guess. like so absolutely terribly debilitatingly bad. but ive still been able to focus on silly fish and drawing with such a passion that its given me something to do. and its made things somewhat more bearable.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Can you please do reader meeting Octavia for the first time after reader and Stolas officially dating? You know, after the divorce with Stella 🌟

Octavia meeting Stolas' S/O for the first time after his divorce.

You were hunched over the bathroom sink, having a borderline panic attack.

You were only able to keep your composure thanks to the warm embrace of your loving boyfriend, his arms wrapped around your stomach.

"What if she doesn't like me?" You asked breathlessly, staring at yourself in the mirror.

Stolas rubbed his hands up and down your arm, planting a few gentle kisses on your shoulder, "You'll do fine, sweetheart. Octavia will love you, you Just need to be yourself."

You took several deep breaths, running some water you splashed some in your face.

Wiping your face, you took one last deep breath and gave a nod. "Alright... lets do this." You told him.

Puffing out your chest, you turned, holding his hand and walked out of the bathroom.

You found Octavia sitting in one of the palace's tea rooms, staring down at your phone. Your breathing hitched when she saw you, the young girl getting to her feet.

She stood before you, before lazily looking you up and down with an unimpressed expression.

Extending your hand you told her, "You must be Octavia, ive really been looking forwards to meeting you."

Octavia looked at Stolas for a second, before sighing, reaching out and shaking your hand. "Yeah. Nice to meet you to." She said clearly unhappy to be there.

You just took it in stride, 'That's alright. She doesn't need to like you straight away. Baby steps (Y/N), baby steps.'

You all sat down, Stolas pouring us some tea.

Stolas tried his best, he really did.

He tried sparking up a conversation, talking about what Octavia liked, bringing up any of your shared interests.

All that usual first meeting stuff.

But no matter what he said or tried, it was clear Octavia wasn't having any of it.

There was a few more minutes of this slow grind, the conversation dying out several times.

You just sat there for a minute before one of the staff came in.

Aparently something had come up that required his immediate attention. And so with a brief apology to you both he got up and left.

You of course you were freaking out, this is literally the last thing you needed. You couldn't handle Octavia alone.

You could barely handle angst alone. How were you expected to handle it from the most vicious creatures of the social world.

The teenage girl.

The moment Stolas was out of sight, Octavia whipped out her phone. The two of you sat in silence for few minutes, the young owl staring at her phone.

"Sooooo..." you began.

Octavia glanced up at you before going back to her phone "So..." she replied sarcastically.

You sighed, leaning on your elbow. "You don't really like me in, do you?" You asked almost playfully.

Octavia stopped what she was doinh, looking up from her phone she scowled at you, "What do you think?" She asked, sarcasm dripping from her words.

You just released a dry laugh. "Yeah, I get how you feel."

That got the first real reaction from her of the day.

The young owl shot to her feet, slamming her hands on the table and screamed "How the hell could you know how I feel?!"

You looked at her for a moment before taking a sip of your tea, "You know... you are the most important thing in your fathers life." You told her sternly.

The owlet was seemingly taken aback by that, sitting back down she wore a frown.

"You consume so much of his waking thought, and you know what?" You asked her.

The owlet just raised a brow, shrugging her shoulders. You gave her a warm smile, "I love that."

Octavia seemed shocked at that, asking "Why?" To which you chuckled, "Because, you have a father that genuinely loves and cares about you. You have family." You told her warmly. "And I'm happy to be a part of that... even just a little bit."

There was silence for a few minutes, the young lady clearly processing what you'd said.

"So... you have a thing for my dad... because he's a good dad?" She asked, clearly puzzled.

You chuckled again, leaning on your elbow, "Octavia... I've been with a few guys in my youth." You told her somberly. "And every one of them ended up being..."

You were silent for a long minute, looking to the side, "Bad... They were bad people a-and they did bad things... to me" You finished, rubbing your arm.

There was another long pause, neither of you saying anything, but after a moment a gentle smile crossed your lips.

"But your father..." You began, warmth in your voice. "Your father is a good man. He's good to me and he's good to you."

There was another long pause, before you reached out and gently cupped her hand, "I understand you don't really like me Octavia. And I want you to know, I don't blame you" You told her.

"My father disappeared when I was probably a bit younger then you. My mother dated a few guys, and some tried to be the 'father figure' role, but it never worked out."

There was a long pause, the young owl telling you "I'm... I'm sorry." She told you, clearly upset.

You squeezed her hand, "Its alright." You told her, "I survived, and I know youll survive as well, because you've got such strength in you octavia. You've already put up with so much, and I'm sorry to say, there will probably be a bit more to put up with." You told her somberly, "But you'll survive, you've got too much of your dad in you to give up." You told her, trying to raise the mood.

Octavia looked surprised and a little emotional, wiping her eyes.

You sighed, running a finger over her hand, "I'm not trying to replace anyone Octavia. I understand you can't replace what you had... but I love your father and I And I want to be a part of both your lives." You gave her your best warm smile, "Do you think you can give me a chance?"

You tried to look calm while internally you were freaking out, praying to whoever was listening that Octavia would believe you were being genuine.

Octavia was expressionless for several moments, eyes looking down at your hands before she looked up at you.

A small smile crossed her mouth as she brought her other hand up to grab your own.

"I last thing need right now is another parent... I can barely handle the two I already have." You both had a little chuckle at that, "Buttt... I could use a friend. You know? Someone I could come to, that understands what I'm going through." She finished a little meekly, looking up at you.

Your heart swelled with joy, giving her a big smile you nodded your head. "Yeah... I'd like that." You told her, wiping the dew from your eyes.

You both smiled for a moment, a warmth filling the room.

A sound at the door got both your attention, turning to the sound, you found a very happy Stolas, face absolutely dominated by a wide smile as he hugged himself.

"Ooooh, I'm so happy to see you getting along." He practically squealed.

And like that Octavia pulled her hands back, pulling her beanie over her face, "Ugh, Dad!" She growled.

Stolas released a little dad chuckle, coming over and sitting besides you, planting a kiss on your cheek. "Everything alright when I was gone?" He asked sweetly, curling his hand around your own.

You smiled, giving him a nod before telling him "It went..." You looked over at the Octavia.

The young owl peaking at you from beneath her beanie, "It went perfectly." You told him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

After that, things really picked up, now that Octavia was actually interacting with you.

The two of you actually had a lot in common, most surprisingly being your taste in music. The two of you spending easily half an hour talking about your favourite band.

Stolas just sat there, silently watching the two of you having your lively back and forth, the Owl could barely contain the immense amount of joy he felt at seeing his two most favourite people in all Hell getting along.

And it would be as Octavia was finding something on her phone that you noticed his gaze, looking at him, you asked "What's up?"

The owl said nothing, shaking his head he leaned down and kissing your cheek. Holding you close as you and Octavia went back to your conversation.

[blookmallow]

I MADE SOME NEW FRIENDS LOOK

I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I L

ok backing up a bit rieklings are these lil goblin things that have been attacking me all across solstheim for a while, but THEN i found THIS 

SINCE WHEN DO YOU KNOW HOW TO TALK!! WHAT!!!!! OF COURSE I FOLLOW YOU also your foot is. uh. disappearing into the snow there bud

they took me to meet their chief 

it is an honor, sir 

i also just noticed he’s sitting like a jarl fjdsgj

[nods thoughtfully] muwafathoo

they needed help getting their warthog thing back and collecting scathcraw which i was absolutely down for, but then, uh

they wanted me to help raid the nearby nord village :’)

the Bad Nords who keep attacking them, they said, but this. is definitely a nord mead hall that they clearly took over :’ ) 

but i mean, its theirs Now, i guess,

i felt bad but i really didn’t wanna betray my lil goblin buddies and i didn’t really even know the nord people anyway, and I’m already a dark brotherhood assassin, so, like, technically this kinda shit is my job already, 

so we killed the nords lmao it was far enough away from the guards that i didnt get a bounty for it but

so then the riekling chief thought i was trying to assert dominance over him as the Strongest and he challenged me but i REALLY DIDN’T WANNA FIGHT HIM :’) SIR YOU ARE SO SMALL. I’M SORRY. YOU ARE A TINY THING 

i forgot i was wearing the ebony mail, which poisons anything around you that registers as an enemy, so he literally just died from poison exposure and i did not do Anything 

so as far as these guys know im a fucking god who can strike things down without moving a muscle 

they didn’t seem too upset about their chief though and just declared me the new chief so i guess this is just how they roll :’) 

SO ANYWAY NOW I HAVE ALL THESE FRIENDS. THEY CAN ACT AS FOLLOWERS I CAN BRING LIL GOBLINS ON ADVENTURES WITH ME AND I’M DYING 

look at him...........my littel man............

if you dismiss them you get this though 

he’s not a PET he’s my FRIEND

but apparently bc they’re “pets” you can have one of them and a regular follower at the same time even though they can like. carry stuff and follow commands (not all commands but most things) 

they are SURPRISINGLY VERY WELL BEHAVED LIL GREMLINS i was afraid they might act aggressively if i brought them into town or something but no they only attack if you tell them to or if there’s an active threat. im not sure how they understand me bc the chief was the only one who could really communicate, i haven’t heard any recognizable words since “you. fo. llow. me” 

they do tend to say the same phrases a lot though so I’m pretty sure they have language! the only thing I can tell for sure is I think “fa ra walla” means “goodbye” since they always say that when you dismiss them 

the game mechanics aren’t there to actually do it but i like to think medea is something of an anthropologist and is trying to study them, teaching them her language and trying to learn theirs 

i brought him to meet my cow i think he likes her 

doesn’t like chairs, though. i offered him a chair and he just kept saying JOOOO FAH so i guess that means no 

anyway ive decided everyone gets presents and everyone’s getting names im gonna give them all enchanted daggers so i can tell which one’s which since several of them have the same model and I can’t tell them apart 

this guy’s grendel

they don’t seem to use weapons you give them but they will carry it

im not 100% sure but from what i can tell so far it does seem to be the same group of 9 rieklings (i counted them and made note of how many there were of each type, gave a few of them specific items to hold, dismissed them, traveled around for a bit, came back and could still count the same numbers and could still find the ones with the items I gave them) so this SHOULD work to keep track of them unless they do eventually just reset or get randomized again

it would make sense for them to all be the same every time you visit though considering the possibility for them to be carrying something for you that you might need back 

this one’s caliban i took him to meet cicero i think they’re friends 

also i gave him a necklace and it does register as being equipped even though you can’t actually See it so im choosing to believe he liked it and put it on 

anyway here’s Most Of the squad, a few of them were inside 

im still collecting daggers for them all and deciding who gets which names but ive decided they’re grendel, caliban, fidget, gollum, orlok, crabbe, goyle, fester, and igor and i love every single one of them with my entire heart 

also my bard was standing on a chair the entire time grendel was in the house which was probably an unrelated glitch but was VERY funny

most of the time no one seems to notice my weird little goblin friend but i did have one guy in solstheim briefly panic and call for help for no apparent reason and then get over it so he might have gotten freaked out before he realized i had the situation handled :’)

lucia’s kinda scared of them too :’( he’s nice,

BOY SAVED ME FROM A DRAUGR I DIDN’T EVEN SEE NICE WORK BUDDY!!! 

look at this sickass skull we found and also my baby boy’s precious darling little face 

also the rest of the rieklings on the island still act aggressively toward me even if i have one of them with me, and my dude has no hesitation in attacking them so i guess there’s warring tribes going on or something :’) it is very stressful bc i do NOT want to end up hitting one of my boys on accident though 

found this in one of the enemy riekling caves, WHERE did u get this 

i dont think dark elves even worship dibella 

also, sidenote, why is dibella the only one who gets a statue she’s like my least favorite and she’s the only one i can have statues of

i mean i have some shrines in my falkreath basement now but why can’t i have like, a cool arkay statue or something

An Entire Fucking Pile Of Lusty Argonian Maid, which raises SO many more questions

can.... can rieklings read??? 

there was also one single telekinesis tome buried under all these. why 

[a-spoopy-bird]

i um

yeah i wrote a naruto fanfic sue me. slight blood tw and hella angst because you know its ya boi

    Naruto fell from the windowsill into Sasuke’s living room with a grunt. The only thought sustaining him was the need to get somewhere safe. The ground wasn’t safe. He could get kicked down here, or stomped, he had to get to somewhere safe. 

    With a heavy groan, he hauled himself to his sore feet, listing to the right before stumbling forward. His knees hit the arm of the couch and sent him sprawling onto it. Naruto groaned again, body aching everywhere, face throbbing. 

    He faintly heard someone click on a light and winced at it. Everything seemed to be coming from far away, like he had fallen down a well. A face swam in front of him. He instantly felt better, relaxing his sore muscles and melting into the couch slightly. 

    “Sas...uke…” He coughed wetly.

    “You idiot, what happened?” Sasuke struggled to turn the blonde onto his back, hissing through his teeth when he inspected his face. 

    Naruto didn’t have the energy to cry out in pain. His eyes were sliding closed as Sasuke tried to get an answer out of him. A shake on his shoulder only jarred him back to reality so much. 

    “Naruto, who did this?” Sasuke’s voice was intense. His hand was gripping Naruto’s shoulder, the other on his phone. “Answer me, please, dammit!”

    Naruto blinked sluggishly. Why wouldn’t Sasuke let him sleep? He was so tired, and everything hurts… 

    The hand on his shoulder started to shake, and Naruto faintly heard half of a conversation. 

    “Sakura? Are you busy? It’s Naruto, the idiot’s all busted up. No, he’s not responding. Yes, of course I tried! Yeah… yeah, alright. See you in a few.” Sasuke turned back to his boyfriend. “Help me out here, alright?” 

    Sasuke wound his arm under Naruto’s and hauled him up. “Jesus, how much do you weigh?” He groaned, stumbling towards the door. 

    Naruto’s head lolled and rested against Sasuke’s shoulder. He stared hazily at the ground, falling asleep. He faintly heard Sasuke talked, but it wasn’t relevant. His feet dragged against the ground, too tall for Saske to fully support. 

    “Naruto, I swear to god, come on, snap out of it.” Sasuke jostled him a little. No reaction. “Hey, idiot, come on.” 

    Sasuke swore, trying to hurry out the door, but Naruto was dead weight at this point. He dragged the beaten boy to Kakashi’s car, knowing the keys would be in the center console. He managed to get him buckled into the front seat, before getting into the driver's seat. 

    Sasuke jumped when his phone rang. He hastily answered it. “Hello?” 

    “Sasuke, where are you?” 

    “I just got this idiot into the car, on my way. He’s responding less now, I’m- I’m getting worried.” What an understatement. He was beyond worried. Naruto was the only person besides Kakashi who understood, who knew what it was like, who could comfort him. He was half-dead in the passenger seat. 

    “Listen to me. Get him here. We have the emergency room prepped. We contacted the police, they’ll let it slide if they see Kakashi’s car speeding.” Sakura informed him. “Get Naruto here, quick.” And with that, she hung up. 

    After gently turning off his phone, Sasuke slammed the palms of his hands against the steering wheel. Tears threatened to spill over. He gripped the steering wheel hard with his left hand before slamming his right against the steering wheel. 

    With a final, steadying deep breath, he jammed the keys into the ignition and started the car, pulling out of the driveway and out of the neighborhood. All along the fast and slightly illegal journey, he kept sneaking glances at Naruto. The blonde haired boy slumped against the window, nose gently trickling blood against the cold glass. 

    Sasuke pulled into the hospital parking lot, roughly yanking the key out of the ignition and rushing out of the car. Sakura and a team of people came out of the hospital with a gurney. Sasuke helped then situate him on the gurney, careful to work with them. Then, before he could process what was happening, Sakura had lead Naruto away, leaving him alone in the parking lot. 

~~~ 

    The waiting room wasn’t large- there were two other families here. Sasuke checked his watch- two in the morning. Was it really that late? Sasuke sat in one of the uncomfortable plush chairs, jogging his legs and massaging his knuckles. His mind bounced around, latching onto irrelevant facts and onto anything about Naruto. 

    “Sasuke?” Sakura had peeked her head out of the door. “Could you come back here for a moment?” 

    Sasuke stood up, the fog in his head lifting a little. It had to be about Naruto. Maybe he was alright? Just concussed? He didn’t let himself hope that. He knew he attracted bad luck- it was his fault if Naruto wasn’t all right. Naruto was so happy and fun and bright, and Sasuke was just the complete opposite. He was going to suck all the bright sun out of Naruto just by being around him, just like his mom and his dad and Itachi- 

    “Hey. Snap out of it.” Sakura’s fingers snapped a few times under his nose. 

    “I- sorry.” 

    “He won’t calm down, he’s scared of the nurses and doctors. We can’t hold him still enough to sedate him.” She explained. “And I- I can’t stand seeing my friend hurt like that.” She turned her head, hiding her shame. 

    Sasuke nodded. She slid her card through a lock on a door and opened it. 

    The sound reached him immediately. Wet, harsh sobs punctured the air, along with the sound of several people struggling. Sasuke hesitantly stepped into the room, and resisted the urge to recoil. Five nurses were trying to hold him down, but he was putting up a better fight than Sasuke had expected him to. Tears streamed out of his eyes as he kicked and struggled against them, hyperventilating. He struggled to talk, half formed words breaking his sobs. 

    “No! Don’t- please- Stop! No! Don’t- don’t- please-” 

    Sasuke quickly wound around the nurses and placed his hands on either side of the other boy’s face. “Hey, Naruto, look at me.” 

    He struggled harder, jerking his head out of Sasuke’s hands. “Stop, stop, no, please stop,” He rasped, coughing wetly. 

    Sasuke tried again, but without touching him. “Naruto, please. Look at me.” 

    Wild, wet blue eyes hesitantly locked with the cool black ones. He huffed and sniffled, glancing at the nurses periodically. 

    “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Can you breathe for me?” He coaxed gently. 

    Naruto breathed harder, not anymore even. He kept glancing back at the nurses, fear clear in his eyes. 

    “That’s right, babe. In, and out. It’s alright. They’re trying to help. Promise.” Sasuke offered a small smile. 

    “P-p-promise?” Naruto hiccupped, still trying to steady his breathing. 

    “Promise.” 

    A nurse readied the sedative, waiting for a good moment to use it. 

    “What- what’re they going to do? I- I don’t want- don’t-” 

    “Naruto. They’re just here to help. Sakura is in charge of them. You know she’d never, ever hurt you.” 

    “S-Sakura?” 

    Sasuke nodded. “They’re going to give you something to relax, alright? It’s going to be alright, you’re safe.” 

    Naruto relaxed slightly, still sniffling. He nodded. “O-okay.” 

    The nurse gently eased the IV into his arm, and they all backed away, their job done. Sakura came back in, relieved. Sasuke reached for Naruto’s hand, gently rubbing circles on the back of his hand with his thumb. The sedative slowly took affect, and Naruto was out within five minutes. 

    Sakura pulled Sasuke from the room, back into the hallway. “I didn’t get a chance to thoroughly examine him, but he’s pretty beat up, Sasuke.” Her eyes searched his. “What happened?” 

    Sasuke looked away, shrugging. “He sneaks to my house sometimes, he practically lives there. I heard him crash in tonight, and he was on my couch half-dead.” Sasuke paused. “Is he- is he going to be alright?” 

    Sakura sighed lightly. “Knowing Naruto, he’ll be fine. He’s come closer to dying than this. But it’ll probably be touch and go for a while. Do you know how he ended up like this?” 

    Sasuke started to shake his head when it dawned on him. By her expression, Sakura realized what it was too. “It’s October 10th.” 

    She nodded. “He was probably over in Konoha’s graveyard.” 

    Sasuke cursed. “How many times have we told that idiot not to- not to go alone?” His voice stuck for a second. 

    Sakura shook her head helplessly. “He’s Naruto. It’s something he’d do. Even knowing the people there hate his guts. It’s just who he is.” She turned and went back into the room, leaving Sasuke to figure out how to get back to the waiting room. 

~~~

    Kakashi was in the waiting room when Sasuke came back. 

    “Yo.” 

    Sasuke sat down heavily beside him. “How’d you know I was here?” 

    “Blood in the living room.” 

    Sasuke cringed slightly. “I’ll clean that up.” 

    “I already did. Was it Naruto?” 

    Sasuke nodded, clenching his hands together. 

    Kakashi checked his phone. “Went to see their graves?” 

    Sasuke nodded again, starting to jog his leg. 

    “Hey. That kid’s strong. He was strong enough to convince you off the brink. He can do this.” 

    Sasuke shook his head slightly. “He- he was almost in a panic attack. They had to call me back. I just- I’ve taken all the joy out of his life. This is my fault, I should’ve-” 

    “But you didn’t.” Kakashi interrupted. Sasuke’s head snapped up, glaring reproachfully at the white haired man. “Besides, Naruto has enough joy to go around. You know he’s glad to be in your life.” 

    Sasuke nodded and let it drop. There wasn’t any point in pushing it any further.��

    Kakashi pulled up the news app on his phone. “Looks like it was reported to the Konoha police. Figures, ever since leadership changed it’s been a disaster.” 

    Sasuke wasn’t paying attention. “I think I’m going to get some fresh air.” He stood up abruptly and half ran out the doors. He leaned heavily against the metal railing, feeling the cool October air chill his cheeks. He squeezed his hands into around the metal pipe, trying to stop them from shaking so badly. It didn’t matter what Kakashi said, he should’ve known Naruto would’ve tried something like this. He did every year when he was alone. Sasuke should’ve done something. He should’ve been with him, and he should’ve talked to him, and not just in his room eating shredded mozzarella cheese. 

    Kakashi walked out to join him, probably offer some words of half-baked wisdom again. 

    “Before you say a word, please, don’t.” Sasuke said voice shaking, his grip on the bar increasing. 

    Kakashi simply nodded and leaned against the railing, book in hand. For some reason that irritated Sasuke more. He bit the inside of his lip, trying to quiet the noise in his head so he didn’t scream at one of the few people close to him. 

    Kakashi looked up. “This is just as bad huh? Sorry, sorry, I’ll go now.” He closed his book with a snap and went back inside. 

    Sasuke sighed again, easing some of the tension out of his shoulders and releasing his lower lip from between his teeth. His hands shook when he detached them from the railing. Countless thoughts swirled through his head. 

    It’s your fault he’s in here, if you had been a better boyfriend, if you could’ve just been there for once, maybe this wouldn’t have happened, you filthy Uchiha, you aren’t even welcomed in Konoha just because of your stupid parents. Maybe if he killed you too this wouldn’t have happened. If you had died then Naruto wouldn’t be in the hospital right now, it’s all your fault Sasuke it’s all yOUR FAULT-

    “Oi.” Kakashi’s familiar greeting shattered Sasuke’s spiral. He felt a hand firmly placed on his shoulder. “Breathe, kid.” 

    “I- I can’t,” He grit out. “I-it’s- it’s my fault, Kakashi, I-” 

    “Stop that.” He jostled Sasuke’s shoulder a bit. “It isn’t. He needs you here just as much as you need him. Who else would stop him from doing reckless stunts unsupervised?” 

    “But- but I-” 

    “You can’t save him every time, Sasuke. Life isn’t that simple.” Kakashi sighed, leaning against the railway beside him. “Listen, this time may be bad, but I’m confident he’ll recover. He’s had much worse.” 

    Sasuke would have laughed if he could remember how to breathe properly. He struggled to pull a full breath in. “I was- I was just eat- eating cheese, K-Ka-” He broke of, wheezing for breath. 

    His eyes began streaming when Kakashi held his inhaler in front his face. Hands shaking, Sasuke took it, desperately taking a puff. “Thanks,” He groaned once he could talk. 

    Kakashi shrugged. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, kid. It was what, two in the morning? You don’t have to be ready for everything all the time.” 

    They stood there for a long moment, each in their own thoughts, before going back into the waiting room. 

~~~

    Naruto was discharged the next morning. He was waiting at the receptionist’s desk when Kakashi woke Sasuke up. 

    He was there in an instant, quietly taking Naruto’s hand as he filled out forms with the other one. Naruto chuckled softly, rubbing the back of Sasuke’s hand gently. “I’m alright, Sas. Look, they even gave me free merch.” He joked, showing off his hospital tags. 

    Sasuke just stared before saying, “I equally want to kiss and punch you right now, dick.” 

    Naruto laughed again. “I’ve reached my punch allowance for the month, Sasuke. You gotta wait until November now.” His face stayed in the same carefully constructed, optimistic half-smirk he wore so often, but Sasuke knew different. 

    “Fine. I guess you’ll just get your ass kicked again in a few weeks. Better work to pay your hospital bills.” 

    At a concerned look from the secretary, Naruto jumped to explain. “Oh- oh no, he didn’t do this, don’t worry. We love each other very much.” He grinned widely, throwing his arm around Sasuke’s shoulders. 

    Sasuke’s worry and anger seemed to lessen as he watched Naruto spew actual sunlight. 

    That didn’t mean it was gone for good. 

    “Sooo. Naruto.” Sakura was waiting in the parking lot. 

    Naruto’s eyes widened, and he turned around, looking for a way out. Not finding one, he slowly turned back around to face her. “Hi, Sakura.” He grinned nervously.    

    She tapped her foot angrily. “What. The hell. Were you thinking.” 

    “Ha, you see, Sakura, I was-” 

    “Can it, off-brand Goku!” He recoiled slightly, the excuse dying in his mouth. “If you weren’t already beaten up so badly I would literally murder you right now.” 

    “Hey, Sakura, don’t you think that’s a bit intense?” Kakashi said from where he was leaning against the car. He peaked out from behind his book. “Besides, Sasuke and I already have first punching dibs. Get in line, kiddo.” 

    Sakura sulked for another moment. “I gotta get back to work. Naruto, if you do anything else stupid this month, I won’t hesitate to break your arms.” And with that, she stormed back into the building. 

    “Guess I have to break your ribs.” Sasuke remarked calmly, ducking into the passenger seat. 

    “Konoha beat you to it- fuck.” Naruto realized his slip up a little late. 

    “We been knew, Nards.” Sasuke said saltily.

    “Hey wait! Why do you get the front seat?” 

    “You got it on the way here, idiot.” 

    “Don’t remember! Didn’t happen!” Naruto said, getting into the backseat.

    “You probably don’t remember falling onto my couch at two a.m half dead but here we are.” Kakashi remarked simply. 

    Naruto shut up and sulked the rest of the way back to the house. 

~~~

    “Explain.” 

    He sat at the kitchen table, fiddling with the bandage on his left hand. “Guess I can’t really plead the fifth here, huh?” He felt hot shame and guilt eating away at his stomach. Which was fine. Nothing he couldn’t hide easily.

    “Obviously.” Sasuke was not impressed by Naruto’s stab at humor. “Why in God’s name would you go there? Especially on your birthday!” 

    Naruto blinked in surprise. “Y-you remembered?” 

    Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Of course I remembered, it’s your birthday, why wouldn’t I?” 

    He fiddled with the bandage some more. “No one else really did, ya know?” 

    Sasuke sighed. “Yeah, well, I did. Happy seventeenth or whatever.” 

    “That’s gay. Anyways, you still have to explain yourself.” Kakashi said from his corner. 

    Naruto looked at his hands. “Just- I wanted to see them, ya know? I don’t care what they think, they’re my parents, not theirs. I- I should be able to visit them peacefully without being chased down, ya know? It’s not- it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong, I just wanted- just wanted to clean off the headstones.” 

    Sasuke reached his hand across the table. Naruto reached out to take it, but Sasuke slapped the back of his hand. 

    “Hey! What was that for?” He yelped, pulling it away. 

    “For being an idiot! How many times have we told you to not go to Konoha? Especially on the tenth!” Sasuke took a deep breath in. “I’m glad your not dead.” 

    “Yeah, me too.” He said saltily. “Man, why are old people so mean?” He whined. 

    “Maybe you’re just weak.” 

    “Sasuke I’ll- ouch!” Naruto had jumped up and disturbed his healing ribs. 

    “Don’t hurt yourself anymore, idiot!” Sasuke got up to look at his bandages. 

    “No, no, I’m good, just moved wrong.” 

    “If you’re shitting me I won’t hesitate to fully break your nose.” 

    “Oh, it’d be a lot scarier if you had just gotten beat up by old people with sticks and rocks.” He snarked. 

    Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “They beat you, Naruto Uzumaki, parkour expert and self proclaimed ninja, with sticks and rocks?” 

    “I can’t hit old people!” 

    “But you hit Kakashi the other day!” 

    “Stop. I’m not old. And if you two are gonna be this grossly in love, take it to your room. I don’t wanna see it.” Kakashi interrupted, pulling out his book. 

    “Still, if you ever go to Konoha alone I won’t hesitate to eat your eyebrows and steal your eyeliner.” Sasuke said before grabbing his boyfriend’s hands and tugging him upstairs. 

    “Gasp! Not my eyeliner!”

[jeromevalseka]

so i was going through my drafts (always a wild time) & i found the beginnings of a valeyne soulmate au & it's not terrible (always rare when going through my drafts) & since ive been in such an awful valeyne mood i thought i'd share it because tbh i don't know if i'll continue it but i do enjoy it & hope you will to!

cut the safety line

It's supposed to be condescending. Mocking. An imitation of comfort, an inversion of their relationship. Jerome pats him on the cheek, the pads of his fingers warm, and it shouldn't mean anything.

Instead, it means everything.

Bruce fractures the moment Jerome touches him, splits himself into two states of being: who he was before and who he is now. All of his pieces that felt jagged and out of place slot together. There's something weightless about this. Something intangible. Indescribable beyond his general refocusing that this is what it means to be whole. It's beautiful. It's frightening.

Jerome is looking at him with wide-eyes, wild-eyes, something fragile and shattered peeking through in his stare. His hand is still on Bruce's face. It's warm and calloused and Bruce has to restrain himself from leaning into it. There's a shift between them. Broken tension reformed into something new. They just look at each other. Everything is so much more vibrant now. Jerome's hair is red and his eyes are blue, and before these were just facts, but now, now that everything feels so much clearer, they're revelations. His skin is a mess, scarred and scabbed, blurring the line between man and monster, but all Bruce wants to do is press his fingers along his cheeks, follow the raised skin until he knows every indent on Jerome's face.

An eternity passed in three seconds.

Then, his hand is sliding down Bruce's face until it settled in the space between his shoulder and his neck, Jerome maneuvers them around, pushing himself between Bruce and the crowd of hostages, obscuring him from view entirely. Somewhere in that sea of people Jim Gordon cursed loudly. On the stage, neither of them cared.

"Well," Jerome said, his voice only meant for Bruce's ears. "This is certainly a… surprise. Who would of thought? A stick-in-the-mud like you, my soulmate." He laughed, his mouth stretching widely, pulling itself taunt, blister red, but there was no humor in it. It was cold. "What a joke."

Bruce felt something twist low in his gut. He wanted to move closer to Jerome, press himself against every tangible inch of him until he was absorbed completely, patching his way through all of his brittle and rotted parts. He wanted to move farther away. The haze that had fallen over him was lifting. Reality crashed back down. Harshly.

What did it mean for him that his soulmate was someone like Jerome Valeska?

Bitterness rose up in his mouth like he'd swallowed turmeric powder. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. Jerome's hand was still on him, distracting and grounding and Bruce thinks he might like the feeling. He didn't know what to do with that realization either.

He wet his lips. "What are you going to do?"

It's a valid question.

They can't ignore this — their bond. They're bound together now. Two halves of the same soul. Contact wasn't exactly necessary, of course, but being away from your soulmate caused discomfort, even pain, especially if the bond was new. Bruce didn't care about that as much as he did the fact that his other half was apparently a murderous psychopath who constantly terrorized the city and seemed to have a personal vendetta against him.

Something had to be wrong.

He knew it wasn't.

Absently, Jerome stroked his thumb against one of the tendons in his neck and Bruce unfurled, boneless for just a moment. It was a nice feeling. Jerome froze, his expression stuck between awed and suspicious, leaving an uncomfortably vast margin for interpretation.

"Don't you worry a hair on your pretty, little head," Jerome said, finally. His voice was rougher than usual.

Then, in a move that left Bruce off-balance, feeling like he'd been flung into the depths of Gotham River, he removed his hand entirely, twisting the pair of them around again so it was Bruce whose back was now facing the crowd of spectators. With his customary showman's flair, Jerome skipped backwards, pulling a knife out of nowhere and, in a blur of motion that Bruce had trouble following, threw it towards his brother who'd been watching silently from his seat on stage. Jeremiah let out a painful, choking sound, but Bruce only had eyes for his soulmate, who was quickly making his way towards the back of the stage.

Before he escaped completely, as slippery as water, a new franticness edging his movements, he looked back at Bruce, splintering, and called out, "Au revoir!"

With one last flash of his coattails, he was gone, leaving his hostages, his followers, and the members of the GCPD slowly pushing their way through the murmuring crowd, confused.

Bruce closed his eyes.

. . . . . . . . . .

There was a shock blanket around his shoulders. Was he in shock? Maybe. Probably.

The crowd had dispersed, a few stragglers pushing up against the police barricade, curious, too curious, about the spectacle they'd been forced to witness. They didn't even bother to whisper. Their voices carried, lamenting and syrup-thick as they chattered amongst themselves about the poor, unfortunate Wayne boy. He never catches a break does he?

He wished he could lament himself, but reporters were buzzing around like thirsty leeches and sitting in the back of an ambulance was no place to break down. Later, when he was back in the manor and after Alfred went to bed, he'd wrap himself up in one of his mom's old quilts and choke down some of his dad's old scotch and he'd force down the scream he could feel building in his stomach. He'd force it down until his hands shook and his vision blurred and everything in his head restored itself to sense. He'd sit until daylight started to peak behind the curtains. He'd sit until he knew for sure that he'd patched up all the cracks that formed.

The certainty in it soothed him. Not by much, but enough to keep him balanced on the knife-sharp edge of falling victim to a panic attack.

It helped when he didn't think.

So he didn't.

He just sat, wrapped up in the shock blanket. He looked like a victim in a way he hadn't managed to since his parent's death. A proper one with trauma stringing its way through his veins. There was something new in his veins, but he didn't think it was trauma. Or maybe it was. He was tired. All stooped shoulders and heavy eyes. Pathetic.  He hoped the paparazzi appreciated it.

The silence he'd built around himself was broken by Jim. He looked just as bad as Bruce did. It wasn't comforting. He sat down beside him, their shoulders knocking together, and Jim allowed the quiet to build up again, let the tension rise as he considered whatever it was he wanted to say.

"I think it's safe to say that this didn't go according to plan." Jim offered, apologetic.

Bruce thought that might have been an understatement. His eye twitched. Wildly, he thought about telling Jim. His fears were lodged high up in his throat, and his fingers curled into the shock blanket, and he felt his heartbeat pick up in anticipation. Jim would understand. He'd always helped him before, and, logically, Bruce knew that he'd continue to help him, even with something as complicated as his soulmate.

I met my soulmate. He's a monster. Am I a monster?

That felt childish. He couldn't force the words out.

Instead, he asked, "How's Jeremiah?"

It's what he was supposed to ask, after all. He's Bruce Wayne and he's supposed to care about everyone, all the time, because if he doesn't then—

Then what?

He wasn't sure.

Something cataclysmic settled itself on the edge of his tongue. He felt raw. Exposed. There was something painful and bruised carving a space for itself at the top of his throat. He might have been shaking.

Jim answered his question, unaware of emotions coiling through him. "The knife went through his shoulder, but missed the artery. The paramedics sounded pretty confident that he'd make a full recovery."

"That's," Bruce searched for a word, "Good. Could you let him know that I'd be happy to take care of any medical costs? Or, actually, I'll visit him myself. He shouldn't be alone right now, what with—"

He faltered, the words dying on his lips.

What with Bruce's soulmate on the loose.

He couldn't breathe.

He remembered how it felt when Jerome touched him. It was better than any high he'd ever had. Complete euphoria. A merging of selves. They were soulmates. For whatever reason the cosmos decided that of all the people in the world, Jerome Valeska was his divinely ordained other half. A murderer. A monster. And Bruce probably would have done just about anything to touch him again. Logically, he knew that was because of how new the bond was — a sort of failsafe to ensure you were around your soulmate to make sure the bond could really build itself up — but still. This whole situation was reaching an unparalleled level of bullshit that he hadn't been ready for.

Jim grabbed his shoulder. Concern was rolling off of him in waves. His stomach twisted. "Bruce what's wrong?"

He was shaking. He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't explain. He couldn't couldn't couldn't couldn't—

"I met my soulmate." Bruce said, crumbling in on himself.

"Your—" Jim started, confused, before understanding crashed over him. "Oh, kid."

[alicedoessurveys]

VERY long survey

Where have you lived throughout your life? 

Birmingham UK

Do you find your job rewarding? 

N/A

What kind of cake did you have for your last birthday? 

chocolate

To you, which is better: English muffins or bagels? 

I enjoy both, but bagels.

Do you paint your nails? 

yes. although they're not painted at the moment because ive been cleaning the house so much the past couple days and its stripped my varnish off

What’s the last website you signed up for? 

a dating thing

Do you check your email everyday? 

yes, I cant stand having the little red number above the mail app 

Have you created any pages on Facebook?

yes but I dont have them anymore

Is there a subject that you absolutely suck at? 

every subject, but especially maths and science 

What’s your favourite song by Dave Matthews Band? 

I dont know any 

Are there people you have absolutely nothing in common with, but still enjoy talking to? 

I dot particularly enjoy talking to anyone :’)

Have you ever wandered around drunk with your friend? 

yes, we wondered around through the middle of Birmingham at 4am 

Are you good at holding back your laughter if needed? 

haha nope

Have you ever been so unfortunate to suffer from a hangover?

yes

Have you ever had a panic attack? 

many, I had to drop out of college because of them 

Are you deathly allergic to anything? 

nope

Have you ever had a mouse in your house? 

nope

Do you know anyone who DOESN’T have an ex? 

myself 

Is anyone you know really religious? 

my family

Are your eyebrows naturally thick? 

yes

Has speaking in front of people ever made you sick? 

not physically sick, but definitely felt it. the worst experience Ive had with speaking was in college when I had to give a speech then teach a 10 minute class. my throat totally dried up and I literally couldnt speak. everyone just stared at me and I was trying so hard not to cry. longest 10 minutes of my life and as soon as it finished I legged it out the room and burst into tears. 

What was the last movie that made you teary-eyed? 

Mary Poppins Returns almost got me but the last film to actually make me cry was Coco. That shit had me SOBBING!

Have you had two friends that absolutely hated each other? 

yes 

Has a laptop ever burned your legs? 

not really, I put a cushion on my lap normally

Do you know anyone who has a scar through their eyebrow?

no

Who was the last person to flip you off? 

probably rhys, as a joke

Anyone’s birthday coming up soon? 

my dad turns 50 next week

Would you ever wear fake eyelashes? 

I have done a few times but they annoy me

Are you good at following directions? 

no no no I get confused very easily

Do you have someone that you can just act a fool with and not care? 

yes rhys 

From where you’re sitting, can you touch a wall? 

if I reach behind me 

When at a restaurant, do you put your napkin on your lap? 

occasionally, it depends where I am and what im eating 

Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpeners? 

manual 

Are your biceps at all noticeable? 

they used to be before they went into hiding under a layer of fat 

Have you ever seen a walrus? 

nope

When it comes to dropping food, do you believe in the 10 second rule? 

no, I believe in the ‘what food is it’ and ‘how dirty is the floor’ rules

If given the opportunity, would you ride on a camel? 

yes. I was supposed to have gone on a camel ride in Tunisia ages ago but I was ill so we didn't get to go 

Do you believe that cellphones actually do cause cancer?

they could be. the number of people getting cancer has gone up a lot since everyone has mobile phones 

When people you know cry, does it make you feel like crying too? 

depends who it is 

Do you tend to jump to conclusions? 

yes. Im an anxious person so im constantly overthinking and I also find people really hard to read and can get

Are you good at remembering your friends’ birthdays? 

yes my brain cant remember important things but when it comes to dates its like a sponge 

Is there something you need to do, that you’re trying to avoid doing? 

getting a job

Ever pop someone else’s pimple? 

ew no

How long does it take you to fall asleep? 

about 15 minutes depending on how tired I am 

Do you crack your neck often?

no that freaks me out 

Did you have a weird dream last night? 

not that I can remember, I have been having a lot of weird dreams this week because im ill

Who do you sometimes compare yourself to? 

everyone. especially when im at the theatre, im constantly watching other people and wishing I could act like they can or look like them or have their style 

Are you more worried about doing things right, or doing the right things? 

both

In what way are you your own worst enemy? 

every way, I dont look after myself at all 

What activities make you lose track of time? 

sims

When you help someone do you ever think, “What’s in it for me?” 

not really 

Who do you tell your secrets to? 

these surveys 

Who do you live with? 

my parents and our foster kids 

When did/will you graduate? 

I didn't 

When are you moving next? 

I have no idea. probably never 

When is the last time you took a vitamin? 

this morning, im fighting a cold 

Why are you stressed? 

im not too bad right now tbh

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? 

nope

Where do you keep your birth certificate? 

no clue, my mom has it somewhere 

How many books are in your room?

a lot. I have quite a few on display and a whole bunch hidden away in my closet because theres no space for them anywhere else. I'll include some photos of the books in my room;

(the book on my bedside table in the second picture is actually a lamp that lights up when you open it)

Have you ever been IN a wedding? 

nope

What was the last thing you laughed out loud at?

probably my mom 

Do you have a nickname? Why? 

my family call my bongy or Ali bong, I dont know why.. (my name is Alice)

Have you ever had a bad concert experience? 

nope

When was the last time someone told you that you were beautiful/good-looking? Do people often tell you this? 

my mom tells me almost every day but Im like youre my mom of course you would say that 

Are you missing someone of the opposite sex atm? 

no

Want someone back in your life? 

meh

Are you currently sad about anything? 

actually nope

Are you wearing anything shiny? 

my pj top has glittery silver letters on

How important is a sense of humor in a significant other? 

very, I fall very easily for people who make me laugh

How many followers do you have on Twitter? 

198 (@alicethenerd if ya wanna follow 😉)

Do you sleep with the door open or closed? 

closed. I aint about letting those murderers and monsters just waltz straight in easy peasy 

Have you ever been to the beach? 

yes every summer since I was a kid 

Can you handle blood? 

nope

Do you pay your bills or do your parents?

I pay my own bills. no way my dad would be up for paying my bills, he already digs at me constantly about the fact that I live rent free even though I look after the foster kids and tidy the house more than he does

What’s your best friend’s middle name? 

Connor

Has any place hired you underage for a job? 

not officially

Have you ever barely passed a grade/year in school? 

yes

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? 

no

Have you ever tried to sell something overpriced to someone? 

no

Do you plan to become very wealthy some day? 

I hope to become wealthy enough to not worry about having enough money to put fuel in my car anymore and to be able to pay back my parents and grandad for everything they've done for me 

Do you remember your first time going to the movies? 

no, but my earliest cinema memory was going to watch Monsters Inc with my dad when it was first released 

Does eating breakfast make you sick? 

if I try to eat before a certain time yes

Are you dying to say something to someone right this minute?

not dying to nope

Book series you enjoyed reading recently? 

im reading eve of man atm which apparently is going to be a series

Do you enjoy lying in the grass during the summer, and just existing? 

I prefer lying on a blanket, I dont like the feel of grass and I dont like the bugs crawling around 

Do you have a passport? If so, how many stamps do you have in it? 

yes, it doesn't have many stamps in because I lost the one that did have lots in and I havent been away much since getting the new one 

Are there any keys on your keyboard that have letters fading away? 

nope

Do any of your close friends have children? 

no

What do you plan on having for dinner?

we already had dinner, we had chippy

Do you like Chinese food, or do you find it disgusting? 

I only really like one meal 

Have the police ever come knocking on your door looking for someone? 

actually yes, literally a few weeks ago

Know anybody who works in a tattoo parlor? 

yes, my second cousin 

Have you ever played flashlight tag?

ive never heard of it

Could you call yourself a movie buff?

not really, im a huge movie fan but theres still a lot I need to see 

Have you ever had a piercing get infected?

never had a piercing 

Do you check your fire alarms when you’re supposed to? 

dad does it

Are you a shorts wearing kind of person? 

nope nope nope, my legs are not suitable for public viewing :’)

Is your grandparents’ house obsessively tidy?

not really no. my nan and grandpa’s house is always neat but not obsessively neat. my grandads house is full of clutter because my nan was a hoarder 

About how much can you bench press? 

I dont know, I havent lifted in years 

Have you ever had your phone die on you in the middle of a conversation? 

yes

Is anybody in your family a carpenter? 

no

Are you avoiding someone? 

yes

Do you call your boyfriend “Monkey”? 

I dont have a boyfriend but if I did I doubt id call him monkey

What’s your favorite primary color? 

yellow #hufflepuffpride

What were you for Halloween? 

nothing, I didn't dress up 

Do you have any clothes from Walmart? 

nope, we dont have Walmart here

When did you get a Facebook? 

about 10 years ago 

What color are your eyes? 

green/hazel

What motivates you? 

happiness

Can you walk in heels? 

nope

When was the last time someone asked you your age? 

the other day, my own mother forgot how old I was

Do you keep a journal? 

not really

Have you ever tried a weird flavor of vodka? 

never had vodka

Do you wear a ring on your finger? 

occasionally

What are you doing? 

watching ‘the greatest dancer’ and wondering if this survey is ever going to end 

What’s the last kind of soup you ate?

tomato 

Do you currently have a sunburn?

no. its winter

Who did you last text? 

my sister

Who’d you last call? About what? 

my mom, to ask her to come downstairs and let the dogs out because the baby was asleep on me and there was no way I was going to risk waking her up

Are you currently frustrated with someone? 

yes

Do you drink water or soda more often? 

water

Do you straighten your hair?

yes

When did you last talk to your brother or sister? 

today

What is your least favorite vegetable? 

all of them

Outside of family, name 3 people that make you smile/laugh often. 

Rhys, Addison, Jacob

In school, what subjects did you achieve your highest grades in? 

IT

Was there a subject that you enjoyed, but weren’t too good at? 

I didn't really enjoy any subjects at school

When was the last time something didn’t go to plan? What happened? 

today. I had planned to deep clean the bathroom but I went super dizzy and had to give up half way through cleaning 

Do you have any children? If not, at what age do you think you’ll feel ready to be a parent? 

I dont but I am seriously considering adopting one of our foster babies atm. I want to adopt anyway, theres no way I could be pregnant 

When was the last time you bought a new item of clothing?Describe it. 

I honestly cant remember, im due a shopping trip

Was your last Facebook friend request from a male or female?

female

Do you have an item of clothing that makes you feel especially beautiful? Describe it. 

not really no

Think of the last person that betrayed you. If they said they were sorry, would you forgive them? 

I would cautiously forgive him but I would also make sure he knew that how he treated me was not okay and that he really upset me and this would be his last chance. but tbh I think hes done with me so 🤷🏻‍♀️

Nastiest thing you’ve ever done? 

I dont know, I dont like being nasty

Have you ever been in a lighthouse? 

nope

What colour is your shower? 

I think its silver, ive ever actually noticed

Where do you order your pizza from?

dominos

When is the last time you had a serious talk with someone?

few days ago 

Do you find that you have a certain meal you eat every time you go to certain restaurants? 

yes, im a creature of habit

What colour is your bike?

silver & purple

What word can you not stand to hear people say? 

the c word, I cant even type it

What room of your house are you in? 

living room 

What is the temperature in your city right now? 

9°c

When did you last use a post-it-note?

last week in the script for the show im currently working on 

Would you ever want to own your own restaurant? 

yes

Do you have a fan in your bedroom? 

no I dont like them, they make too much noise 

Who is the last person that you took a picture with? 

one of our foster kids 

When is the last time you were stuck in a fairly long traffic jam?

the weekend before christmas 

Do you have certain friends that you hug every time you see them? 

not many

When was your most recent trip to an aquarium? 

almost two years ago 

What do you like in your salads and what dressing do you prefer? 

I dont like salads

If it has one, do you ever use the notepad function in your phone? 

all the time, Im constantly writing lists or reminders to myself 

How good would you say your memory is?

long term good, short term bad

About how many times during the night do you wake up from your sleep? 

a few times

Are there any air fresheners in your house? What kinds? 

multiple, we have plugs in and sprays and those automatic ones that go off every 15 minutes 

What’s one thing you’re glad you’ve done recently?

done my laundry :’) im on my last pair of pants!

Have you ever done something sexual that you regret? 

no

Do you like to sit in the sun and tan when it’s hot out? 

not really, I dont like being too hot

Ever had a person who was obsessed with you so much that it scared you? 

no

Can you drive, and if you can, do you like it? 

yes, I love driving most of the time 

Have you ever said anything to the last person you kissed that you regret? 

no

Do you like french fries?

yes

Have you ever eaten so much you puked?

not since I was a kid 

Do you care about what others think of your physical appearance? 

annoyingly yes

Would you rather go to Greece or France?

greece

[unalivemebro]

anyway

i've been so fucking anxious lately, like full blown panic attack a day anxious and like i have a xanax prescription and it helps and everything but I'm deeply uninterested in getting like actually addicted to benzos so most of the time ive just been like feeling like im dying and its epic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i know part of the reason im so fucking anxious is cause i have this dumbass crush on a Genuinely not even that cute irish boy i met Online (which is like deeply cringe but w/e) and i can tell he literally only sees me as a sex object and like im not here to shame the lad but bro stop talking about my ass dude. just play the video game and crack a mf joke its noon,,, its simply not horny hours. like logically im fully aware that like i should just essentially block em and move on with my life but im fucking LONELY. and look ive got friends that i adore and family and whatever but man its just kinda nice to be like fawned over, even if it makes me feel kinda gross afterwards. he's not like a bad person and i feel like ive only mentioned him like hes some awful creep and he isnt, but he definitely lies about his sex life. i cant tell if its like to make me jealous (???? which makes no sense ive never even met him in person) or if its like a im a big man that crushes ass typa thing. have to say, typing this all out like stream of consciousness style actually did help holy shit. like. in a way i felt one of those little sims like -- over my head just now with the man. i was literally like desperate for a message from him a few days ago and now im kinda disgusted???? thats a bit strong. but i do think the discord call today irritated me, instead of like charming me, which helped.

next topic :)

ive really gotta fucking deal with my parents. i havent had an extended conversation with either of them for what's probably months now, and like im genuinely MUCH happier. but im not sure if you can, in essence, ghost your parents. i mean i guess once im off their health and car insurance/phone plan thats really it. i don't even want to talk to them, thats the thing thats really surprised me about this whole like experiment to see if they reach out. when something happens to me i have to like remind myself to be like "hey guys and gals this happened" instead of like the excitement i feel waiting to tell kim or someone else i actually give a fuck about. i think i just got so tired of their narcissism, and im sure my own narcissism didnt help, but like im their only child and they cant even find it within themselves to like care about anything i do. im literally positive im more hurt like ~deep down~ by their apathy than i realize, but im also so deeply unsurprised? i just, i really honestly do hate my mother. i have a harder time hating my stepdad, but i think its just internalized misogyny T B H.

ok im done for now. this was actually helpful HUH who woulda thought

[mei-be]

I decided that this year, I will make a resolution. This in itself is a bit revolutionary, because I’ve always been the anti-traditionalist, anti-precedent, just anti-. This year is different, because it started off in a fever pitch, whined to a rotten crescendo, and now is whimpering to a close. At the literal beginning of this year, my mental and physical health had taken a major shit in the proverbial bed. I started the New Year terrified, and sick with worry. I had been hospitalized against my will, in a psych ward, and found myself creeping through a very real life version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I had a delusional roommate, haunted by The Man, who watched her and hurt her. Hurt her though food, through medicine, invaded her life, drained her bank accounts, made it so she couldn’t sleep. Now that I was her roommate, he was watching me too, and I couldn’t close any doors, take a shower, or shut my eyes. There was the drooling, heavy lidded non-verbal man, who shuffled through the hallways attached to an IV, and had one hand permanently lifted and dangling. There was the angry kid, who yelled obscenities, and complained about the bullshit, his medication, how he was treated, only to periodically break down in tears and screaming, and had to go into the Quiet Room. The Quiet Room was a very small space, complete with bed decked out in restraints. The only thing missing was the padded walls and the straight jacket. But that would be undignified. A nurse stood behind a little window, distributing drugs at specific times. I asked her why she broke the pills out of the blister pack, into a paper cup, and tipped the paper cup into my waiting hand. Why not just break the pills from the blister pack into my hand. It’s the same amount of touching by the both of us, and then they could reduce that additional waste and cost. My mind works like that. She didn’t know, that’s how they did it.

That week felt like a month, just like this year felt like a new lifetime. Since then, I’ve been going to therapy, seeing doctors, paying attention to my diet, getting regular sleep, and working on the rats nest that is my brain. It’s what you do, and it’s all good and healthy and mindful, and positive. But what I’ve been really struggling with, is the anxiety. My anxiety rips through me like a cancer. It denatures and decays every day, no matter when it arises. All the good I ever did is wiped away, and I’m left with grime and ash. It used to stay in my head, but now it’s ventured out mycelium-esque threads into my body. It makes me weak, it takes the ground out from under me, my heart machine over heats, my fulel expels and lays wasted, my body-cage aches...

It is what it is.

I am circling the drain. I’ve been here before, I’ve seen this movie, and the ending does no justice. Leitmotifs are small, recurring, characteristic of a composition; so much so that they become the composition. I don’t want to be this ring-cycle, I wont cement this reality through repetition. And so, I’ve decided to wage an attack on this misery. An attack in the form of a Happiness War, to make the goal of happiness as if it were a life or death situation. To furiously, religiously, and zealously seek Happiness with an intensity alike to terror; only matched by the ferocity of the terror inside.

So I make a stand, I screw my courage to the sticking place and screw my fear and stick it to my panic. I choose, I chase, I become a champion of happiness. It is the only choice. I remember a story I once heard. A man was telling his friend about hunting rhino in Africa. It had been a long hunt, and he had finally come to meet his prey. The rhino was a dense, black, death machine of a beast. He fired, but missed. His second shot jammed the rifle. Panicked, he looked around, there was nothing but grass in every direction. No weapon, no tree, no rocks to climb. Just grass, heat, and angry rhino. He could hear the rhino’s approach like thunder, he could very nearly feel the animals hot breath on his neck. Entranced in the tale, his friend asked, “So what did you do?” “I climbed a tree right in the nick of time!” He said. “What tree?”, the friend asked, “You said there was no tree!” “Don’t you see?”, answered the man, “There has to be a tree, there is always a tree, you have to look for it, but that is the point of my story. There is always a tree. Find the tree.”

I take constant support and inspiration from this story. Where there is life, there are more stories. So you do the damn thing until it’s dead, or you are. Never give up, never surrender. There is always another way, even when the rhino is upon you. It is always darkest before the dawn, you just hold on. Find the tree.

Part 1. Gratitude

I did an informal poll, and asked my friends on social media some questions about Happiness. It’s a pretty banal question, and definitely leads to a lot of cliches and derivative content. But even though the question has been asked so many times, to the point of being historical, it still echos in the collective heads of many. So here we go, here we go, here we go again. The way that I research and make decisions is such: I read as much as I can about my subject, and disregard the biases of each individual body of work, even though I know that there are definite biases. Instead, I look for repetition. Despite people’s stance or mediated perceptions, I believe that there are certain, close to absolute truths that will emerge, if given enough experience or exposure. This way of digesting information began when I was grade school aged, and learned about the Free Marketplace Theory. Basically, you give everyone a chance, and the quality items will rise to the top, and prove themselves by their worth. No monopolies, no deceitful practices, no bull. This sounds like a great way to go about scholarly work, but you can imagine me trying to buy sponges, or find recipes, or, most everyday things.

So, one of the threads of commonality that I noticed when asking people about their Happiness, is gratitude. Either as a precursor or an after effect, I see a theme of being happy because of what you have. Interestingly enough, it seems that gratitude is interwoven with a sense of, “It could be worse, but it isn’t”. This strikes me as odd, because it seems that a sense of misery, or acute un-Happiness, is necessary for Happiness to exist. One of my friends wrote this, “Hammocks without spiders. Water when I’m thirsty. Really cold soda on a hot day.” This seems like a simple, light-hearted, cute statement, but look at the profound presence of suffering. To experience the relaxation of a lovely hammock, she apparently had previously experienced a hammock that came with spiders. Good god. That seems like a nightmarish exercise in vulnerability. Yet, it is that horror, that leads her to appreciate each spider-free hammock session, and even more; to list it as one of the top things that make her happy. We run from misery, we avoid it, we do everything we can to keep it at bay. But it’s the other side of happiness. To experience Happiness, apparently you have had to sit in the Shit for a while. I’ve thought about the Shit before, and have come to this similar conclusion. When you are faced with the question of, “Why is this happening to me?” Or the ever-popular, “ Why do bad things happen to good people?”, perhaps the answer is, “So they can learn to be very fucking Happy”.

Two key takeaways here: 1. Caveat- The bad things, the Shit, cannot kill you. If it does, then the conversation is over. Don’t let it kill you, if you can. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Where there is life, there is hope, and more story. For those of us who suffer from suicidal tendencies or ideation, this is a point that needs to be made, for we are the ones in the strange position of being both powerless, and the only one with the power over our lives. 2. The Shit cannot become your life. If the Shit is all you see when you look around, you can never gain perspective. You won’t be able to learn from it if you can’t get some sort of distance. Distance, or progress, is the very mechanism of the story. The shit is your conflict, and conflict is the very catalyst that moves the story, into its rising action and climax. In other, plainer words, that Shit has to move, man. A story that ends before or at its climax is bullshit. It’s an artsy literary move, but for me, that’s just lazy writing. Having your audience choose their own ending saves you from having to write THE ENTIRE REST OF THE STORY. Work that Shit, move through that Shit, don’t let it be everything. That’s just shitty.

2. Progress

A therapy that I’ve just began exploring is ACT, or Acceptance and Commitment Therapy. If you’ve ever even dipped a toe into any sort of counseling or self help, chances are, you’ve come across some form of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. It’s like the Gold Standard of psychological treatment. It’s based on the idea that your psychological and behavioral issues are based in faulty thinking and or behavior. It’s rooted in repetition, an endless cycle of catching bad thoughts, and turning them into better ones. Often, you literally find the opposite of that negative thought, or look for evidence to support or deny it. You also try to find origins or deeper causes of the negative behavior. The idea is that if you do these exercises long enough, the repetition forms new connections, and new habits. It’s super boring. It works. ACT takes a lot of the same models found in CBT, with one difference. Instead of fighting your negative thoughts, you first accept them. It’s in the name. So, you still go through the rigamorole of identifying your negative thoughts, and trying to find their origins and evidences. However, one deviation that I’ve found really helpful is that there is no way not to choose. By not doing something, you are choosing NOT that thing. Given that you’ve already made a choice, acknowledge that choice. Now that you’ve made a stance, decide the quality of that stance. If you are someone like me, who’s fight, flight, or freeze sympathetic nervous system most often chooses to freeze, and when frozen, reconciles itself into the form of a panic attack, this mode of CHOICE makes a huge difference. Let me lay it out for you in this example:

Conflict: I don’t know what to do with my life, I’m aimless, unmotiviated, torn. It’s too late for me, I can’t do it, I’m not good enough.

Assuming you’ve already gone through your basic reframing thoughts, positive thoughts, SMART goals checklist, you might end with something that looks like this.

I don’t know if getting a Nursing Degree is right for me. It makes sense, and I’ve already put a lot of effort into it, but it’s not what I love. I love foraging, herbalism and dietetics. However, those fields are not sustainable, feasible, or a good fiscal degree. I don’t know what to do.

But today, right now, I am currently not actively pursuing a nursing degree. So, today, I’ve chosen not to pursue a nursing degree.

For some people and some situations, this in and of itself, brings a deep clarity, a relief, and a resolution. But if it doesn’t...

Acknowledge your choice: For the next week, I choose to not pursue a nursing degree. I’m not going to exert energy thinking about it, arguing with myself about it, it is a non issue. I am not pursuing this. What’s left? The foraging, the herbalism, the dietetics. This is your stance.

Now that you’ve made that stance, think about the quality. What kind of herbalist am I going to be? How far am I going to take this? What opportunities can I find?

The idea here is that you’ve redirected the energy you would have spent arguing with yourself, and instead are now pointed toward a more productive path. You may circle back to the original decision, but now, you’ve moved forward in the journey instead of being stuck at the beginning quandary. You’ve expanded.

3. Presence

[summerstainedandtemporary]

I decided to overthink my fear. Sue me, I’m a Scorpio.

“What is your biggest fear?”              

“Blood.”  

Growing up, I had been a sickly child who didn’t get to go to my nursery classes because I was confined at home, watching Looney Tunes over the smoke and noise of a nebulizer to treat my frequent asthma attacks. When I mean “sickly”, it’s when I was confined both at home and at the hospital majority of my childhood. Dengue fever, UTI, Asthma. Most of my childhood memories were made up of trips to the albularyo because of fevers or coughs that would never go away. I’d also remember the bitterness of medications I drank that took an hour of persuading, coercing, and pleading from my parents for me to drink. I took too many medications back then that I developed black teeth when I was a kid.

Most of all, I had too many encounters with blood-related sicknesses or accidents. The most distinct one was that there was a point in my childhood where I’d wake up every night with a nosebleed. I used to sleep in between my parents back then. Imagine the horror of waking up to your child with blood dripping down their nose like some kind of an exorcism film. I would hear the panic and worry in Mama’s voice as she would wake up Papa. I rarely hear that kind of voice from her, so in turn, I would also panic. Was I dying?

It went on for weeks but we never really went to the doctor to know the cause or treat it. But I heard from them that I might be probably just suffering the consequences of the abrupt changes in temperature and weather. My parents just got used to the routine of sleepily tilting my head up in the middle of the night until the bleeding stops. But not me, I never got used to it. I was still on high alert long after the bleeding stopped with the lingering taste of copper at the back of my throat. There were nights that I’ve mistaken the nosebleed for a runny nose and the next morning, I would wake up to the sight of bloody shirt and hands like I just murdered somebody in my sleep.

I like to think that this was where I started to develop my fear of blood.

One would say that the experience could have made me used to the sight of blood. But, it didn’t. The gamble of opening my eyes to blood or not traumatized me. Up until now, when I’d be having a runny nose at night, I would almost always turn on my phone’s flashlight to check if it is blood. I’m not grossed out by the dark thick liquid, no. It’s the implication that something serious might have happened.  

Like that one time in grade school where I wondered what would it feel like to run with my eyes closed. The feeling was liberating, with the wind against my body. It was like that scene from The Sound of Music where Julie Andrews was singing on a grass field with her hands held up. But it didn’t felt so freeing when I smacked my head into a concrete post. I bounced back and fell on my behind, eyes still closed. There was that horrifying moment again. The uncertainty of what liquid was dripping from my nose. Was it blood? It was. I saw it coating my hands again. Like those many nights. There was blood. Something terrible happened.  

I didn’t know why everything was hazy and I felt so sleepy. My aunt, who was taking care of us that time, had found me and wiped all the blood from my face that I couldn’t bear to do. The parents and yayas waiting for their children along with Aunty Upeng were alarmed once they saw my state. The clinic was closed during that hour as it was exams week, so the parents fussed over me while I drowsily leaned over my aunt. They bought an ice candy from the canteen and put it to my forehead which apparently had a bump. I also remembered throwing up a lot. In the bathroom. In the pavement. Even in the tricycle we rode on the way to the hospital. Aunty Upeng apologized to the driver, but I still felt bad. I didn’t say anything though. I just wanted to sleep back then. But I was continuously woken up by my aunt who was dragging me to the hospital where my mother was waiting.

I had a concussion that afternoon. And apparently, I also broke my nose. Fortunately, I wasn’t confined which relieved me so much from my worries. However, when I discovered we were going to the hospital, I panicked. Hospitals are for emergencies, accidents, deaths. It’s the place I’ve been confined in too much in my life with lingering scents of rubbing alcohol, squeaky wheels from metal carts containing rattling needles and syringes that have been injected on my arms too much too count. The main problem I had that time was if I were to be confined and injected with an IV drip. Not my concussion or broken nose. It was the IV drip and how they would puncture my skin. The act of opening my flesh with a sharp object.

My fear of blood came hand in hand with hospitals. When I see blood, I think of being in the hospital. I hate how stark white hospitals are. White bed sheets and pillowcases. White walls and floors. White uniforms. White cottons, tissues, and bandages. I hate it so much because dark red blood looks so glaringly daunting on white objects or surfaces. Somehow, it amplifies its presence in a room. And it is inevitable to encounter blood while in a hospital because of my frequent nosebleeds and injections. I’ve learned the skill of not moving my left arm for hours because of the fear that blood would appear on the tube connecting my hand and the IV drip.  

This reminds me of how I had always been longing to donate blood in a blood drive despite this fear of mine. But I’ve always made up excuses whenever there’s a blood drive in the university. I’d say, “I’m busy with school work that day” or “I slept late last night, it’s not allowed”. The truth is I’m really just avoiding this confrontation with blood and needles. Will I faint? My friend told me once how her blood stopped flowing out because she was nervous. Would I experience the same thing? It would be like an IV drip all over again. Only this time, it won’t be clear liquid flowing from the tube. It would be what I was avoiding: dark red warm blood.

Mama convinces me to this day to take up Medicine and be a doctor. This is the very reason why I didn’t and would not. I still panic even when the blood does not come from me.

Like that one night when my family and I were on the road to eat somewhere after the Sunday mass. There was no traffic because Papa was driving smoothly. I was at the back leaning in between the driver’s seat and passenger seat in front and we were all happily talking over each other; each with our own different stories to tell. I remembered someone was singing – it could have been me – and was abruptly cut off. I was thrown forward the same time Papa hit the brakes and something crashed into the front of the car. Thankfully, I had taken a hold of the car seats so my face was still intact. No noses broken.

               I remembered Papa being calm, despite having a known personality of being too sensitive and caring for the condition of our car. He exits the vehicle along with Mama, then, there was a blur of commotion outside. My brothers and I were asked to be seated at the back of the vehicle and the car’s sliding door was opened and a man was laid on the floor of the car. The door wasn’t closed the whole ride to the hospital as his feet dangled over. We were discouraged to ask questions or look over the man. But I had seen his foot. I was overtaken with the feeling that I should not move or else something will happen. The seats covered the rest of his body, but I saw his foot. His were wounded; blood and dirt covered his foot to his ankles. It was unmoving. And it looked pretty pale. To this day, I never knew if he survived. All I knew was that he was the one who hit our car with his motorcycle because he had been drinking. I wasn’t the one bleeding that night, but the image still haunts me to this day.  

“But what about your period?”

I’d scoff. Maybe if they’re an acquaintance or someone I just met, I would politely smile. This question really comes off as patronizing for me when one asks this in a teasing manner. It’s like assuming someone with glasses cannot see the number of fingers you’re holding up. They can see it, only a lot less clearly. People seem to exaggerate the irrationality of these situations and try to know to the extent of these irrationalities mockingly. Like maybe they’d expect me to faint then die while sitting on a toilet upon seeing my bloody underwear. Or maybe they’d expect that I’d avoid going to the toilet and handling the bloody mess. Yes, blood makes me anxious but I have no choice but to get used to the sight of it. Actually, period blood does not alarm me for the most part. But sometimes, I’d be horrified by the amount of blood leaving my body. Or flushing the toilet becomes dreadful because I have to take in the sight of a bloody toilet. It’s similar to saying “Oh you don’t like blood? But it’s inside you….” then comes their how-is-this-possible­-I-need-to-know-more gaze with a little bit – just a little bit – of judgement in their eyes. This tiny glimpse of judgement would rile up something in me, a need to justify my fear, despite knowing that I don’t need to defend myself. I’d explain anyway.

What people typically assume is that blood scares me because it’s blood; it’s gross. What they don’t know is that bleeding gives me an overwhelming feeling of anxiety and panic because the feeling is so much like the idea that something is leaking from you. And it’s oozing in the colour of a hauntingly dark red, something-terrible-happened red, dangerous glaring red. Might it be from a cut or wound, a part of you has been forcefully opened and that scares me more than anything. The body should be intact in the assurance that you’re okay. Blood is supposed to be INSIDE the body. The intact body. And when it’s not, it automatically turns on a panic alarm in my head with the bold words of SOMETHING HAPPENED flashing on and off in my mind because blood’s not inside me where it should be. It has made its way outside through an opening I don’t know where. I’m open somewhere. Vulnerable. The very thing that sustains my life is flowing out. And the idea that it’s already outside my body leaves me a feeling of not being in control. I don’t just simply cover up a wound with a band aid and call it a day. I still have to sit for a while and convince myself I’m not dying.

When I say blood, I also mean pain. Of flesh being sliced opened. People would tell me stories about how they were cut or wounded by an accident and I’d imagine the whole thing. Mama once told me a story of how she cut her arm up because she draw her arm back while a jewelry box closed on her, so the clasp tore her skin open. My mind would close in on the description of her flesh being torn and imagine it in every detail. The smooth flesh being run over with a sharp metal. At first, nothing will happen, or at most, the affected, marked skin would slowly turn pale like a chalked sketch of the outline of the cut. A few seconds in, little droplets of blood will seep through, slowly peeking out from the cut as if asking for a permission to come out. You move the injured arm and blood will flow out of it like dark red wine slowly dripping from a bottle. You move it more, and then you can see the skin opening, forming a mouth. Through the blood, you can see bits of pink flesh, the texture and appearance so similar to tocino ­– not the ones you order in carinderias where the pork is still a vibrant light pink; it’s the colour of the tocino you cook at home where you overcook it somehow because it tastes sweeter when burnt. The colour bordering between pink and red. I could immediately visualize it happening to my own skin. And then, a phantom of the pain would follow. The intensity of the phantom pain dependent on what my phobia tells me how painful it must be. That’s the routine. As a joke, my friends would share images of their fingers cut up or hold them up to my face when we’re together. As a habit, I’d clench my fists, my nails forming red little moon marks on my palms. I’d look away, of course. But my mind has already conjured up a visualization of how it came to be. It gets easier once the phantom pain pass.

When I say blood, I also mean death. I do not mean that bleeding automatically leads to death. It is the possibility of death that haunts me. That when I see blood, I am filled with the overwhelming panic to not die. So, maybe I fear blood because it implies a painful death. Maybe what I really fear is the thought that the last thing I’d feel when I’m alive is excruciating pain from mutilation, from my own flesh being torn open. But then again, I also fear the uncertainty of death. Death. How peaceful I envision it to be, but also how disruptive it is to a life I like to control. Dying means confronting the fact that I didn’t get to live my life the way I wanted it to be. Seeing blood haunts me with the concept of life flashing before my eyes. I wouldn’t say that mine would be boring to watch because I’m sure the flashes would contain several experiences of mine that I enjoyed. Flashes of me in the middle of a laugh while on a road trip with my family because Mama was teasing Papa’s funny English pronunciations. Flashes of me waking up on our terrace to the view of a pink sunrise; my friends still asleep on the mess of pillows and blankets I snatched from my room and laptops still open after a night of editing a film. Flashes of me floating peacefully on my back in Pasacao; my body being rocked by the constant waves of the sea and my ears drowned out by the sound of shallow waters, as I stare up the night sky and try to find a Scorpio constellation I once memorized from ninth grade. Seeing blood taunts me with the possibility that these could stop existing in an instant.

However, these flashes are not only limited to the good parts. I expect a re-run of several of my breakdowns; those caused by little petty things, like not getting to watch Jojo Circus peacefully because of a noisy construction happening in our living room, to those breakdowns caused by serious things like my parents constantly comparing me to my neighbour who could sing flawlessly to the high notes of Aegis songs or to my classmate who have been the top of my class since kindergarten. Maybe the flashes could surprise me and show me memories I’ve repressed and pushed too much to the back of my brain in hopes of completely erasing it from my memory because of how painful it had been. Flashes of a dark, cold room; my bed a witness to many of my sleepless nights asking God the million dollar question “what is the point anymore?” Or maybe a glimpse of Mama having a panic attack, mumbling “ayoko na, beh. ayoko na” while I have to hold her and calmly tell her to breathe with me as I desperately tried to keep my lips from trembling or my voice from cracking. God forbid the flashes show me a hunched figure of myself on the floor of our dorm’s cr, staring blankly at the white tiles, a razor in hand. Pathetic. Vulnerable. Not in control.

And then, death starts to look like a good idea. I never even willingly made the choice to be in this merciless rollercoaster ride we call “life” in the first place. So is it really scary to stop existing? Death seems so quiet and still. A possibility of nothingness. And in my life, there have been too many instances where I am desperate for that stillness, that nothingness. Buried underneath all the sunshine and rainbows we constantly try to project in our lives, I have been yearning to stop feeling altogether. I am reminded that maybe, just maybe, a part of me actually craves death. If it takes pain to stop existing, to stop feeling, then a painful death looks a lot less threatening and more inviting.

Then and only then, it gets a little easier seeing blood.