#ive been going so slowly on just improving on 2 or 3 things that i already knew how to draw | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yakeisoda · 10 months ago

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Hello, just wanna start this off by saying that I love your art. I've decided to ask my favourite artists for art tips as I wanna get into it, but no matter what I do it never looks right. So, any tips?

HELLO TYSM!!! ngl i dont think im the best 4 this question im also kinda in a rut rn where im not really satisfied w my art n craving more progress and improvement but im getting there somewhat but very slowly! (ive been this way for a rly long time naow) this might be long but im gna try n throw in the things ik, sorry if my thoughts r messy im not the best in articulating stuff :')

i think a good way to start off is to find out what skill you lack the most or what you want to improve the most on, say for ex: u wna focus on getting better at composition for illustrations, then a good way to improve them is to learn about the composition rules (ex: rule of 3rds, etc), look for any scenes in films/animation or photographies and storybooks , study them and recreate it! go crazy !! ive done a study on a friend's picture before, and have asked my friends if i can use their photographies as practice!

looking for inspiration will also improve ur visual library, they can help u find what u wna put in ur art ! like perhaps certain color palettes or styles, it's best to look at different mediums of art instead of focusing only on one, sometimes u can find techniques meant 4 u! (ex: of this is my friend who used to be a watercolor artist, ive observed them using watercolor techniques when they were still new to digital art! basically mix n match whatever feels good/convenient 4 u :] )

disciplining urself is also good to have more improvement! i have trouble w this the most ever since bc its hard 2 focus if no one is like there to monitor u (in my experience), if u rly wna make progress u have to squeeze in some art practice time in ur schedule, it can be around 15-30 mins or even 3 hrs, completely up to you! (rmb to take breaks!). you can give urself deadlines if that will help n maybe timers too!

my prof always said "Proper practice makes perfect", so it's also best to practice with a clear goal in mind, take notes on the things u lack and if ur watching any art tutorials/speedpaints, take notes of those too! it's good to have something specific in mind so u wont get lost n u wud know what u wna do! it helps u retain info as well so u can look back on stuff, to avoid overwhelming urself u can just focus on small bits first, ex: in anatomy, u can focus on the head area first, break it down to drawing eyes and noses, etc! then u can move onto the torso area!

USE REFS!!!! make use of pinterest or any other refs u can find, cannot stress this enuf go crazyyy w references, make a moodboard full of referencess n go crazzyy w them!! i used to not like doing this bc i just head straight in to drawing bc thats what i was used to but art college trained me 2 use refs bc they help so very much, theyre like ur guideline for what u wna make so u have a clear goal in mind, also photobashing seems like a great practice too never tried it but yes it can help when ur planning an illustration/concept art!

^above also applies to art styles! go crazy n experiment w them!! i think its so very fun to explore diff art styles n not stick to 1, again this depends on u but having a different range of artworks is rly fun, u can go from very pastel soft colors n style, to smth very vibrant n sharp, to smth like dark n chalky-sketchy kind of vibe if im making sense T__T, basically go wild!! go crazy!! dont let urself sit in 1 box! hop into other boxes !! or wear all of them!! or poke holes in the box n add stuff to the box or wear a circle!! trust me it looks so fun if u put different artworks uve made side by side n go wow i did that!!

also create small thumbnails 4 illustration! its really best to plan ahead art too, as i said i used to just head straight in n not plan but ive learned to absolutely enjoy planning making art! collecting refs n seeing what kind of composition goes n what colors wud work is so very fun actually! it rly helps a lot

theres also this one post i lost the link, but basically it shows how much progress u can make if u make loose sketches vs full on rendered illustrations vs a mix of both, again this depends entirely on u bc things r different for everyone! i think that post is really good for teaching abt art progress (if any1 knows where it is pls do link!), i think focusing on sketches n practice is better tho bc it helps u draw more freely n loosely! i think that speeds up ur process more as well n doesnt make u lose interest immediately compared 2 focusing on finishing 1 big rendered illust (talking from experience) but then again its different for every1 so honestly just experiment n see what feels right for u!

i wna say tho that although it is good to make sure ur drawing looks right its also good to just let yourself draw freely, i think what matters is that u understood the structures of something and as long as ur able to apply that in ur own way i think thats gud! i think drawing freely helps u draw more fluidly? like having more expression is what i mean. ive gotten into the "i have 2 make this look right" hole before n i noticed it made my art look stiff, so highlyy recommend doing gesture drawing n life studies! rmb to have fun when practicing n learning,

dont pressure urself too much! enjoy the experience :] ! messy sketches r good!! not everything has to look good or perfect! my sketchbooks from way back were just doodles, pencil sketches no color mostly, theres an occasional lined one w markers , ballpen, n some highlighters, n my drawings were either smth funny that happened w me n frens with our personas or making ocs for my faves or ocs for me in general!

ur sketchbook doesnt have to look pretty its like ur diary but its art ykno! ur thoughts in visual form for the day! (again all up to u as long as u have fun! its all different 4 everyone!)

anw tysm again!! sorry if this was all over the place HAHSAW i tried my best but these r the tips i keep in mind most of the time or the ones i hold closest to me n that i try to apply as much as i cud! if u need anything else clarified just lmk! not the best w words but hopefully it helps :'')! most of the stuff i mentioned here i also need to take into practice HAHWHAW so mb its gud 4 me to write this down so i can finally push myself to do stuff,

#but yeah as ive mentioned go crazy!!#have fun with ur art! thats what matters the most #the bond ull have w ur art will b so precious! pls take care of it!#makes me think of my relationship w my art rahh being in art college kinda ruined it bc of the pressure im trying to rebuild it as much #as i can bc art means sm 2 me!!#i wish u luck on ur art journey anon may we have fun learning art n achieve our goals!#ask tag #anon #this is making me reminisce old times #hope this helps!! i was jumping each part so yea sry again if its messy #art advice #? HAHSHAW i am not the best w this tho im still learning !! always learning anything specific like anatomy help i cannot #but things like these i think i can?? HAHSHDA #also sry if this is like the same things every1 has said before but its true!!!! they r right!#nowadays ppl have a lot of access to knowledge compared 2 before so make use of em!! lots of art tutorials around

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our-monochopsis · 3 months ago

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brief thoughts on communication skills and debate, autism and masking, tact, good vs bad faith debate

rambles sorted into loose sections half self examination diary half loose psychological thesis

the skill of speech

i was thinking about how much i like to talk (i am very self-aware that i ramble, i like hearing myself talk, i can go on random triads and anecdotes for an indefinite amount of time if nobody stops me) and started thinking about the concept of speech as a skill, or communication skills in general

the thought first started with the idea that most people don't 'train' speech; i think of RPGs that use it as a skill, speech in fallout or in some form charisma in DND systems. but in real life most people don't really think about how they talk at all, they aren't really conscious of how or to whom they're communicating to as much as they are just saying things

i think actually taking the time to try and improve your own communication skills is rare, sort of like how a few weeks of exercise immediately puts you above the majority of the population because most people simply don't exercise at all

i thought about myself and how much i love to give speeches when the time is appropriate, or how 'easy' it is to keep myself composed under pressure or to adapt a new personality for the purpose of acting or a bit

autism and communication skills

i'm autistic, i struggled socially, but i'm somewhat adverse to the general social struggle stereotype because i don't find it overtly difficult to speak to people or make friends, i just find it incredibly tiring and taxing on my mental energy (it's not that i DISLIKE it, i love having friends and making them, connecting with people, it just takes a lot out of me to start and maintain them)

so i STRUGGLED socially, but i was capable of building the pathways in my brain by observing and studying human beings throughout my life in order to 'mask' and fit in

i had to develop my own social skills and blend in to the world of normal people, masking is a second skin, its a different person, its very off-putting to think

1. a majority of the people i interact with in my life are never really interacting with me, they're just interacting with the mask i wear, never even getting close to what i'm actually like as a human being because that mask is on tight

2. i had to become someone else in order to succeed socially, i have to be an actor to make friends in most average social situations

that as an aside, i basically had to RPG grind the concept of communicating with people for my entire life, so i built up a bunch of XP. compound that with me being lucky enough to not spawn with as much negative levels as some of my other brothers/sisters on the spectrum. i managed to get to level 1 and afford myself basic social skills, but ive been doing it for so long i do it without thinking, so im just passively collecting more XP by experiencing further social situations. i obviously have a general cap to what ive gained this way because im not some kind of politician or actual career public speaker, i can just compose myself well in a pressuring social situation and deliver words in a way that people are able to understand

i literally had to work through the concept of basic human communcation backwards- i had to reverse engineer how to speak, and built it back up slowly until i arrived at level one and then managed to push up a little bit further since i was now able to take information i had previously learned and stored in the databanks and reformat it after a system upgrade to make better use of stored data

so if regular people are level 1, maybe im like level 3? or maybe the game-ification aspect of this is falling apart and i should stop doing it

what even is being good at talking? tact?

i'm not necessarily the most goated speaker of my generation but i think

engaging in a serious conversation in a way that is

clear

concise

understandable

is actually really hard, especially when dealing with someone who is already predisposed to disbelieve you or not take you seriously

now let's briefly talk about the word 'tact', aka knowing who your speaking to and changing the way you communicate in order for them to better understand you

the actual definition being

tact

/tak(t)/

noun

adroitness and sensitivity in dealing with others or with difficult issues."the inspector broke the news to me with tact and consideration"

(adroitness=cleverness, skill)

this can manifest in a lot of ways most people already do but didn't know the word for

knowing your friend doesn't like something, so you don't bring it up

acting differently around friends vs family

when in rome, doing what locals to in an unfamiliar environment

masking, code switching, etc are all forms of tact

i think that most people have a very basic level or understanding of tact

adopting social norms to me is like your body's subconscious sense of tact adapting your personality traits (creating new ones or suppressing old ones) in order to not stand out as much

some people are born with some sense of tact and other people start at zero have to learn and develop it over time

approaching it from a perspective of a debate or disagreement changes things though- people who have tact, are good at speaking, communicating, etc. can completely lose these skills when faced with a disagreement

advanced tact- consoling, teaching, mental optimization

I think simply being able to speak to someone who

isn't aware of what your aware of,

of the notion they're unaware of,

and doing so in a way that is understandable,

is a basic mental facility some people don't build

basic tact is as i described earlier, but an advanced sense of tact comes into play when you're consoling someone

(how are they upset? what is the problem and how was it caused? do they need it to be fixed, or do they just need to vent? what is the remedy, does there need to be one or is the answer getting over the hump to acceptance? etc.)

or, when you're trying to explain something or teach someone

(what makes them 'not get it?' what's causing the mental block? how do you bridge that gap for them? how do you explain something to someone who doesn't know what you know, about the thing they don't know about, in a way that they can understand?

how can you make them understand in a way they can understand, not in a way that makes you understand?)

these things are basically social puzzles, challenges that put your communication skills to the test, sometimes it feels like a normal jigsaw puzzle and sometimes it's like tip-toeing around a minefield. in these situations you're usually looking for a 'breakthrough', that's the best outcome- a resolution that DOESN'T necessarily fix their problem, or tell them something directly, but puts them in a position where they can resolve their own problem, or learn without your aid

the goal of consoling isn't to make yourself the savior, it's to put the troubled person in a place where they're capable of getting over it themselves

in a way this could sound bad- if you were to be critical of my thinking, you could say something alongside the lines of 'that's selfish, you don't want the mental burden of trying to help them, that's just giving up'

but from my point of view, putting someone in a position where they're capable of 'getting over it' themselves means they come out stronger. obviously that isn't always the goal, or the best method, or even necessary, i'm not a psychopath. but i think the best outcome is that person being more capable of handling their mental struggles in the future themselves. instead of stepping in to save them as part of some kind of grand hero complex, you are giving them the mental tools to repair what's broken or off-kilter, and hopefully adding it to their own skillset.

and a similar view is seen for teaching- the ultimate goal isn't to make the pupil understand a concept, but to give them the tools and make them understand how they can understand the concept. then, they can apply that same thinking to similar questions or concepts in the future.

and both of these 'best outcomes' (as i see them) can only happen with tact! really good, strong tact!

if you want an extremely basic version of this, we learn equations, not just the answer to the number problem. now apply that thinking to every form of teaching, consoling, or other social skill test

the difficulty with tact with convincing and debates

you will never be an effective communicator if you can't see through someone elses eyes

instead of writing people off who don't instantly or instinctively understand you as being ignorant on purpose to spite you or just stupid, build that mental facility and put in shifts walking in other people's shoes

even if it sucks, even if their reasons are stupid, you have to understand their reasons they think something before you could ever hope to convince them what they think is actually wrong

you HAVE to do this- you HAVE to, if you are engaging in the 'debate' seriously, scale the walls of their mental fortress and figure out what makes why in their brain

and obviously, this is a very difficult thing to accomplish because it's impossible to have a 100% completion rate. it's somewhat unavoidable that we insert our own bias and assumptions into their thought patterns and reasoning

and to double down, even when communicating with someone who stands for the same goals or ideals, you are both possibly interpreting the thing you agree with in different ways. sometimes when deconstructing a concept someone agrees with you on you'll find that you actually think very different things, or have radically different reasons for coming to the same conclusion, in a way you don't necessarily agree with

simplified; it's unavoidable to assume things. the game played properly is assuming things correctly, though the method of combining concrete information with a series of loosely stitched together educated guesses blanketed in a patchwork benefit of the doubt

sometimes you'll deconstruct someone's mental patterns and realize it makes you not like them even more. you understand the reason, but the reason is bad and stupid. but that's still the board you have to play on if you want to actually engage with them or even hope to change their minds. that's still the springboard you're bouncing off of. you understand this person better-

now can you actually engage with them properly, better? or does it make you hate them more? can you ignore that in order to communicate with them? so on. sometimes you have to grit your teeth and trudge through the wasteland. sometimes you pull out of the matrix early because it isn't worth it. sometimes the mountain is too high to climb. sometimes you try anyway

this isn't to say that people who think awful things are always worth considering or communicating with; i don't believe in giving a platform to a racist for instance. racism is an inherently illogical thing. to 'understand' a racist involves jumping through a bunch of poorly though out wiring that, if untangled, will simply break the machine. you can't seriously debate a racist because it's a concept so stupid it's impossible to take seriously.

sometimes you can still try tip-toeing the subject. the concept of 'seeing through the eyes of a racist' sounds insane but you can do it in order to present themselves with their own logical fallacies. sometimes all it takes to deconstruct a concept is asking questions about it's basic functions. but then again there's generally no merit to saying something like, 'you've intentionally taken an illogical position in order to excuse hate' because most racists already know that. it only really works if that specific racist is trying to approach their racism with easily disproven psuedoscience or something of that matter

okay enough about debating racists lets get back to

when you are arguing with someone even about something basic you're actively challenging the bridges they've built in their brain to connect information which have been reinforced in their mind for an untold number of years

a heated debate over a serious topic, or a battle of wits, while instinctually intellectual in nature in the sense of needing to get your facts right and righting the wrongs your opponent presents,

is actually a skill that relies more on charisma, as a debate isn't about being right, it's being able to convince the other person that you're right

intellectually you can understand that the information you have is the correct information, but can you make someone else see that? believe it? take it into consideration?

what the 'facts don't care about your feelings' crowd doesn't ever really seem to understand is that emotional intelligence is intelligence. you have to be really smart to understand people psychologically. using 'tact' is a charismatic skill that is built on intelligence. you have to have tact! when you don't have it, you can't talk to people good! nobody's going to pay attention to what you have to say if you can't deliver it effectively!

that's why political parties have politicians. they're the mouthpiece; they're the charisma, they are the tact of the political machine. they are the human delivery of a political parties ideas

even if you do really think someone is stupid, you saying that doesn't help

are you actually trying to debate with someone and convince them you're correct, or do you just want them to feel bad about being wrong? i've done both, but it's important to understand the difference between actually having an intelligent debate and just having an argument (don't get semantics on me you know what i'm saying)

for example, if someone makes a shitty tweet, you don't have to really dive into their psyche and change their mind one neuron at a time. sometimes you can just call them stupid.

but let's say your family member or friend says something wrong? to the point where you actively need to engage with them in a way that doesn't lead to a by-the-numbers negative influence on both parties, potentially damaging the relationship?

that's the chance to employ tact. and knowing when to use tact and when it doesn't matter... that's right baby, that's tact too. we're always tacting whether we like it or not, that's why it's good to be good at it

sometimes you actively stand to gain something by taking your social opponent in a direction that doesn't actively go against them. sometimes you have to make a stupid person think it was their own idea to change because otherwise they never will. sometimes being gentle with someone whose being aggressive is the only real answer. etc

in a debate, taking a position of unrelenting offense or playground insults instead of using tact and effectively engaging with your opponent would lead to a loss. but what if it didn't?

a quick aside on good faith vs bad faith debates

streamers arguing with eachother on a livestream regardless of the subject aren't engaging in a serious debate, they're basically just socially wrestling for an audience to comment on

you can have a debate with someone. you can use tact, be an effective communicator, be nuanced. but if the goal isn't to seriously engage?

when there's an audience involved, are you preaching to the choir? do you play to the ever-updating twitch chat? in front of your friends, are you disagreeing with your opponent or are you just agreeing with your friends?

the goal of modern televised debate, from internet personalities to our modern day politics, is less step by step and more setup and punchline, where the ultimate goal is to pedestal yourself as a noble unassailable being of pure facts and logic punching down on a rancorous, ignorant buffoon who should be ridiculed for even daring to go toe to toe with someone better at making the other guy look dumb. it is by basic reasoning a 'bad faith' position to take

i watch streamers argue sometimes, its fun, but it's hard to take it seriously even if someone is saying things you agree with. it's a different kind of debate, a different kind of social challenge. you have the common pressure of a watching audience, but entirely different goals. 99% of the time, a publicized debate is more about making your enemy into content instead of actually having a logical discussion about something.

i'm not here to make you understand why i think the way i think, or to deconstruct why you think the way you think, i'm here to turn you into a content farm. i'm collecting clips. it's for the subscribers, not the noble goal of reaching common ground or a logical conclusion

am i a master debator? baiter? do i debate? master debate? inator? master debator inator?

how i approach debates;

revisiting the optimization i talked about earlier- despite writing all of this out in a mad dash of mental strain at 4 in the morning (time goes fast when your rambling), puttering away at what it means to talk good for hours in front of a dimly lit screen, i typically do not engage in tact when it comes to debates. i don't take people seriously. but my reasons are very good i think

i can generally tell when someone wants to engage in a serious discussion vs when they are only here to virtue signal their own beliefs and leave, grandstanding their beliefs over yours with no intention of an actual discussion

i have a limited amount of mental energy and it generally isn't worth spending on spur of the moment internet flamewars

i am a mental optimizer

the last note- i think the ultimate goal of a debate should be common ground. the ultimate goal of a debate should not be to be 'right', but to establish a new, more constructive narrative for both parties. this is the utopian outcome; we take two disagreements, a result of missing information and confusion, put what we know together and pit various bits and pieces of data together, we figure out what is and isn't true based on what we both provide, and in turn we can both walk away smarter

but i know the chances of this actually happening are incredibly low

when i say i love to debate people, it's kind of unavoidable to conjure the image of a ben shapiro emulator running off damaged software. but i really do like it when i disagree with someone about something and we both run off our own reasonings and lists. a good debate or argument is like fencing. it's fun!

and it's fun when both parties use their tact, so that even if a common ground isn't necessarily reached, we can understand the value in eachothers viewpoints, or at the bare minimum ingest enough information to better understand the other person's point of view if we're unable to liken benefit or meaning to their actual beliefs

that's a pipe dream though. it doesn't happen

the ending

now that i've talked about communication skills, autism, tact, and racism, let's revisit the gameification aspect i was going for earlier

level one tact challenge(tm)

is giving someone a little push to do something they already wanted to, like acknowledging it's okay for someone to start doing something they were waiting for confirmation on

level one tact challenges are basically just suggestions that don't require a lot of thought. use tact to determine what it is and then just pull the trigger. you can't miss you just need the basic thought to understand what that person is waiting to hear, or when to shoot

a level two is convincing your friend to take a bite of your food at a resturaunt. the meal contains something your friend normally doesn't like, but it doesn't taste the same it usually does.

i don't typically enjoy or seek out spinach. but when my friend wanted me to try the spinach dip with our nachos, i didn't really have to think about it.

three is convincing someone to start their day when the bed is really comfortable and they're still tired,

four is like... convincing someone who isn't confident that they look good in the clothes they're trying on. you use tact to understand why/how they're self concious, understanding through tact they don't actively see what you see because they see themselves as a worse version of themselves.

maybe you accentuate what you like about it. it's just so 'you', the style matches what you usually wear, it fits you well. maybe more specific, like it makes your shoulders broad in a nice way, or it adds a lot to your side profile/silhouette. use some tact to compliment then in a way they feel good about in order to raise their confidence. sometimes you have to fish for a path that works before you walk down it...

4 is the jumping point in a way, once you get here and above you're actually challenging people, or challenging their preconceived notions or thoughts. it becomes more an actual struggle from there up

a level five is teaching a basic task that is relatively difficult to a child,

level six is a heated bad faith livestream argument,

a level seven is convincing your friend/family to stop saying something they didn't know is insensitive/a slur,

a level eight is convincing your friend/family to stop saying something they're fully aware is insensitive or a slur,

a level 9 is a presidential debate stage,

and a level 10 is actively trying to debate twitter troll about racism being bad or not

if i were to really close my eyes and throw the dart at the board from a relatively close yet still blind distance, i'd say most of the human population can realistically handle a level 4 challenge with some great effort, 5 when they really apply themselves, and then break down at 6 and above, if they even try at all

and a noticeable amount of the population stop at 2 and put zero effort into any further tiers

and to place myself i feel like i could realistically tackle a 7 and below, 8 is possible with great effort. there are also a lot of people who can or at least think they can/are willing to try, but on average i feel like most people wouldn't really be effective communicators when it comes to such challenging situations to be in. remember that winning is communicating and using tact effectively, not just shaming someone for being wrong or etc as discussed earlier

the worst part about grinding tact/communication XP is unless you serially choose which battles to fight (which isn't a bad thing necessarily it just means you're gonna level super slowly) you're destined to inevitably fail. in fact, if you're willing to dissect why you failed beyond just the shame of social failure and reclusion, it's probably the best way to level your skills. you have to have enough skill to diagnose your skill failures. it's a muscle; you build it up, but it has to burn itself before it comes back stronger. and if you don't keep using that muscle, it'll eventually atrophy. failing is normal when trying to progress in anything and that is still true for things like communication skills, so maybe do some self-preparation before actually engaging and get that mental fortitude up before someone takes a wrecking ball to your wall in retaliation

oh, and there's the whole idea that the 'dark side' of tact is basically just manipulation, but then it gets muddy when you try to draw the line sometimes. if your manipulating someone to do something that's good for them and doesn't directly benefit you, are you manipulating them? or are you just using tact? at what point in a debate does your toolbox start radiating sith energy? how many people use tools they aren't even aware radiate darkness, even if it's done with good intent to achieve good outcomes that aren't necessarily beneficial for you?

i mean obviously there's a moral failing, because what you think is good for someone might not be what they want, and if you preside over their own reasoning you're overstepping your boundaries. i think this is solved with safety nets; although i don't like the idea that i have to self-impose restrictions on how i interact with people to make sure i'm not acting on bad faith without realizing it, it's probably more normal than i'd think, and it's better that i'm self aware enough to have that understanding in the first place. but then there's that whole conversation to have about extreme situations and excruciating circumstances; we ban drugs like meth because it's inherently extremely harmful to consume. if someone is fully informed, aware, and conscious of what meth does to the body, and they choose to take it, and you don't let them, are you taking away their freedoms? are you 'playing god' by not letting people hurt themselves? but what do we know is really hurting? when are we supposed to let go?

i think there's a much larger conversation to be had about things like this, but there are some notions i'd like to think about and dissect in the future; ideas like, well it's bad for an individual to do it, that's why we create systems that check eachother for failures before pushing laws like 'no meth' through. even the most obvious things have to be rigorously checked, because at one time, gay marriage being illegal was the result of a failing system. and how much trust do we even put in our modern day legal system? is the 'system' not just a collection of individuals who can be manipulated themselves?

what even is manipulation? control? tact? did i properly explain what tact is in this post? am i being tactful right now and writing something digestible? no, im not being tactful at all, this whole post is catered to how i logically approach things and isnt explicitly 1:1 written for people who dont think like me

putting a cap on it before i completely go off the rails; that whole self-imposed discussion will be it's own post. i hope the rest of this is legible

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wayfaringmd · 3 years ago

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Lil J Goes to the Hospital

Well the new job is going swimmingly. And by swimmingly I mean thank goodness it started when it did because kid #2 has been sick half this month and the flexibility of my schedule has been amazeballs. He had strep and then hand-foot-mouth back to back. Last week I got called from daycare again to pick him up because he had a fever. He seemed fine and had no symptoms so I watched him that night and the next day. The next day (day 2) he started running 104 fevers every 3 hours like clockwork, accompanied by rigors. So the next morning I took him in to the doctor. He got strep/flu/covid tested because again he had no symptoms besides fever.

Strep came back positive again, which I thought was a little odd because (1) strep is uncommon at his age (though I think it was a true positive the first time) and (2) his throat looked fine this time around so I thought he might be colonized. He got a penicillin shot that day and we hoped the weekend would be smooth sailing. Unfortunately over the weekend he continued having high fevers that didn’t want to break and rigors that I thought were going to break a tooth at one point. He didn’t eat much and drank just barely enough to avoid me taking him in for fluids over the weekend. So Monday I took him back in for a recheck because clearly this wasn’t strep.

It’s hard as a clinician who sees children to be objective with my own. I mean the kid definitely looks sick and I felt like he was teetering on hospitalization but I couldn’t decide if I was being overly cautious or not cautious enough. My tendency is to want to treat everything at home so I briefly thought “hmmm, maybe this is actually worse than I think.” The doc he saw had the same problem because she’s a friend of mine so I asked her to treat him like he was a stranger’s kid. We went for a viral respiratory panel, CXR, blood work, and blood cultures.

Two hours later I’m back at the hospital getting him admitted. RLL pneumonia, crazy high white count, and severe anemia. It kinda makes me feel bad for not seeing it but for the first few days I really felt like he probably had a virus.

As it turns out, he had Adenovirus, Enterovirus, and a bacterial lobar pneumonia all at once. Plus anemia almost at transfusion level. He was started on a different antibiotic but unfortunately his fevers have continued up until today. He had a super high spike last night so they added a second antibiotic. He’s still not drinking much despite me pushing him to drink every few minutes and his IV has blown twice so he hasn’t gotten fluids.

The hospitalist team was concerned about possible myocarditis and worked him up for it, and that luckily all turned out okay. Basically he’s going to stay in the hospital for probably 2 more nights at least since he’s Improving so slowly. He did finally get an IV that is staying though so maybe some fluids this afternoon will perk him up.

One last thing: lil J is not vaccinated at all. In my state, you can beat and starve your child to the point of hospitalization and be arrested for it and have the child put in social services custody and you STILL maintain the right to refuse immunizations for them on “religious grounds”. This is our case. Most likely this is a vaccine preventable streptococcal pneumonia. My rage at this woman is white hot. If they truly had religious grounds I might could be just the teensiest bit more understanding, though I still don’t think you should make a child suffer for your own beliefs. Their religious grounds are really just one last thing they can control in this situation, and it disgusts me.

#mommy Wayfaring #vaccine preventable illness #pediatrics #primary care

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17wishbones · 4 years ago

Photo

Here is the FINAL part (3) of Chapter VII: War’s End! So glad that you made it all to the end. A rather bittersweet sort of sensation but, it was fun writing this to the very end. I so wanted a happy ending, but I still sort of followed Rengoku’s path and cried my eyes out again but it was worth it. Again, this one I know I could write better so I’m going to work on it. Thank you all for reading through this and sticking with me. This was just so fun to do!

- - - - - - - -

Chapter VII: War’s End

“Everyone ready to go?” Tanjiro asked his ‘lively’ crew.

Zenitsu was sitting with Nezuko who was comfortably set in her box. “Yep, yep! Me and Nezuko-chan are as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“Finally! I can get out and stretch my legs!” Inosuke shouted with glee as he grabbed his two blades.

“Hope you have room for one more.”

“Oh, sure, we do-- _____, is that. . . is that really you?”

“In the flesh.” You stepped through the doorway in just the uniform. Over the weeks, you garnered a leveled bob cut of your locs, an eyepatch over your left eye, and scars littering your arms and around your face. “I’ve missed you all so much.”

“COOOOOOK!!!” Inosuke bum-rushed you into a hug, sniffling loudly beneath his boar’s head. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?”

Zenitsu joined him, well, more like pushed him out of the way as he hugged you next. “____, WE WERE WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU!! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE A GONER!!”

“I’m so sorry for up and leaving just like that. There was a lot to process after the Mugen Train incident, and I didn’t want to muddle your healthy minds with my emotions. I wanted to be mentally strong for you guys.”

‘Her scent is still sad. Of course, she has a reason to be. She lost Rengoku-san, and has had to cope with that loss on her own. I know how tough that can be, but I have Nezuko with me still. She doesn’t have any kin or home to return to. Demon slaying is all she has. . . and us.’ Tanjiro’s eyes lit up. “That’s right! You have us.”

“Hmm? What was that, Tanjiro?” You asked.

“We’re a family, isn’t that right, _____?”

His words surprised you, and it made your heart jump with joy. You looked at all four of them as a part of your family. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them. “You’re absolutely right. That’s why I want to come with you. Besides, as a Hashira, it is but my civic duty to protect Kyōjurō’s juniors.” Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you spoke fondly of him. “He was so ecstatic to have more apprentices under his belt. Therefore, I must follow in his footsteps and watch over you.”

“YEEEESS!! Having Cook with us will make traveling even better.”

Zenitsu frowned at him. ‘As if traveling with you has been anything pleasant.’

“Now, before we go. I want to see Senjuro. Did you relay the message to him already, Tanjiro?”

“Mhm. As soon as we got back, and when I was able to move. Do you want us to come with you? We’re heading through that direction anyway.”

“Perfect! Let’s be off then.”

You all travelled down to the Rengoku Estate, seeing Senjuro sweeping out of his home. He was caught off guard when you embraced him.

For a moment, there was silence as he held you back tightly, his eyes swelling with tears. Seeing him reminded you of all the times you spent together. The three of you were a team when you and Rengoku were training for the Final Selection. Senjuro, sweet and kind, had a quiet fire burning in him. He was going to be something amazing, just like his brother.

“Senjuro, how have you been? Are you alright?” You inspected him from his ember-tipped hair down to his sandals.

“I’m better now, after seeing you. You left in such a hurry, I was worried that you weren’t going to come back.”

“You’re stronger than I, Senjuro, and I wanted to be that for you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, _____. Are you leaving with Tanjiro and the others now?”

“Yes. I want to follow in your brother’s footsteps and protect those that I love and those that can’t protect themselves.” You knelt down, looking into his big, soft eyes. “I really wanted us to be together.” You said this, not knowing when death would knock at your doorstep. “I love you, Senjuro. I know you’ll be a great man in the future.”

“Mmm, I think I will be, too.” He hugged you one more time. “I love you, too, _____!”

You returned the favor before you both let go. You reached for your belt, pulling out a small box of goodies. “For you. Hope you like them. Take care, Senjuro.”

Your days, though filled with amazing memories, came to a close as you fell protecting the children. More than anything, you wanted them to succeed. Sacrificing yourself was the only way to win. It was a swift pain, a slow burn, and then darkness bled into your vision as your soul lifted towards the light and your warm, wavering aura vanished from your body.

You were sorry that you couldn’t stay as you walked halfway across the red bridge, spotting flame-tipped hair just over yonder. He peered over his shoulder, a proud smile spread on his handsome features as he held his hand out to you.

Over the red bridge did you both cross, fading into the distance.

( B O N U S - E N D I N G)

Summer had come and college was out! Most couldn’t wait to spend it goofing off on a beach, traveling across the States, or going right back into school a couple weeks later for summer courses. Many people had many things to look forward to, but you? You had woken up at the ass crack of dawn, taking in the morning air as you raced down the steps with your suitcase fully packed.

“Mom! Dad! Come on! We have to get the airport now! I can’t be late.” Your parents were so slow sometimes and that made you anxious. You could leave them here and catch a ride there or make it on your own but they were not having any of that.

“We’re coming, _____, we’re coming!” Your dad said with a mouthful of foaming toothpaste.

“You usually don’t wake up this early with this much energy.” Your mom added.

“It’s not everyday you get to study abroad in the land of the Rising Sun! I have a day’s worth of traveling to do so I can always sleep later.” Yeah, you didn’t get any kind of sleep last night as you’d be spending most of it in the air.

You hurried them up and sped to the busy airport to meet with the group of classmates you were leaving with. You said your goodbyes to your parents, boarded the plane, and wished for a safe trip.

As soon as service was offered, you grabbed a couple drinks, ate whatever they served in the trays, and knocked out until landing - save for the few bathroom trips -.

Your horizon suddenly expanded the moment you walked out of Japan’s airport, looking around you in amazement. You had to keep murmuring to yourself, “Do not weeb out. I repeat, do not weeb out.” You loved anime, you loved Japanese culture, and you loved their idea of cuisine. Japan felt like the place for you.

“Okay everyone, please come together,” spoke your sweet, endearing Japanese princess of a teacher, Mayamoto-sensei. “We’ll be heading two hours out by bus to Kimetsu Daigaku (Kimetsu University). Rest up and be ready for a little surprise set up by a few students who were interested in meeting you guys soon after arrival.”

You internally squealed with glee. You weren’t dressed up for the occasion but who was going to tell you that you couldn’t wear a pair of sweats on the ride there. With your short locs retwisted and your good outfits packed, you were set to go!

So set that you were the first off the bus and getting your things out. “This is going to be a great experience, I know it!”

“Nn! I agree!”

“Oh my god!” You jumped, scared by the booming voice beside you. “Oh… oh my god.” You had laid eyes on one of the most unique men you had ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. He was different, what with his flame highlighted tips, dazzling eyes, and charming smile.

“Yes. . .?” He slowly stood, his eyes never leaving yours once locked. This man, a vocal and expressive man, was left speechless. He ogled you for much longer than he’s ever done, going over your brown skin, your brown eyes, your short locs, everything! He immediately bowed before you, introducing himself. “Konnichiwa! Rengoku Kyōjurō to moushimasu! Yoroshiku onegai-shimasu!” (Formal: (Hello!) I’m called Rengoku Kyōjurō! Nice to meet you!)

Your eyes bugged out of your face. ‘Shit! Wasn’t he speaking English a minute ago? Okay, okay, what did he say?’ You looked back to see your sensei and the students watching the two of you interact. This was not how you kept yourself out of weeb trouble. Hell, you were still trying to figure out what his fine ass said so fast.

“Onamae wa, nan desu ka?” (Polite: What’s your name?)

You sighed, being able to understand that. “Watashi no namae wa… _____ _____ desu. Doozo yoroshiku.” (Casual: My name is _____. Nice to meet you.)

‘_____?’ He eyed you for a second longer before he placed his hands on his hips, smiling wide from ear to ear. “Very good, _____! I’m Rengoku Kyōjurō, and I am with a few classmates to meet you all. Welcome to Kimetsu University!”

“Woooow, his English is so good.” You thought. Aloud.

“Thank you! I have been learning since elementary! Your pronunciation is good, but your flow is slow. However, I am sure you will improve after being here for a month!”

‘Oh, thanks for putting me out there!’ You smiled nervously. This handsome, wild man was nothing like you had expected. “That’s what I’m hoping for as I’d like to work, live, and travel here in the future.”

“Is that so?” He faced you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Be my student!” Your mouth, along with the others, dropped at his proposal. You looked to your sensei for help, and she encouraged it with an approving nod and smile. “Great, then it’s settled! You’ll be fluent in Japanese in no time!” He looked off to the distance, laughing loud as you smiled in confusion.

(Modern AU Sequel coming SOON!) - - - - - - - - - Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

#rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku kyōjurō #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

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muggycuphead · 2 years ago

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weird flex but ok i guess pt.4

War… Hold up, do we really need a warning for this one? Dunno, but however, watch out for slightly disturbing and kinda…disgusting imagery, trypophobic patterns, as well as ‘necrotic’ designs I made while having funky fever bc o h m y g o d do I get a little crazier every new quarantine day (and at this point it’s coming to be an usual thing for me, big sad). However, most are made no other than for the sole sake of satire, so y’know, no need to get your underwear in a twist

Friday Night Funkin’ BoyFriend’s Hood – AU fanconcept sketches [IV]

EDIT 25/10/2023: Updated the traditional drawing with a rescanned, more clean version

1.-BoyFriend’s in-game sprite concept (Hood clothing)

Beep bop beep beep bop, bap skidoo bep

I like this boy, his voice, his look, I stan must protecc

Reenacted the sprite without tracing it, edited it a little, and amazingly, managed not to make it look like trash

I’m proud of myself for that

Also, remember what I said in the first dump about the bite’s placing? Well, now it’s fixed here

Kinda sad about his shoes getting ruined though, F

2.-GirlFriend’s in-game sprite concept (Hood clothing)

You can guess I had fun making her by how (to put it somehow) ‘layer-loaded’ her clothing is

Anyhow, just so you know, her necklace is made out of gold

Not a really shiny kind of gold (cuz y’know, some of the undead –specially freakysteins- don’t like bright colors that resemble fire when they’re lacking on self-control), but it’s shiny enough to keep them settle

Though I should have though it better about w h e r e to place that golden accessory

I don’t think she would really care about it though (unlessitturnsintoastillstarethennosiridlikeyoutostoptyvm)

3.-Mendel’s in-game sprite concept

[Cutscene-styled scripts for storytell transition / character development sake –andbcwhynot-]

Scenario: BF’s hospital room, with GF, Mendel and his nurse in it. BF’s now recovered from his injury, and is about to be discharged.

Dr. Mendel

Well, it’s been almost a week now, and your condition has improved a lot.

Even if I’m aware this kind of injuries doesn’t take long to be assimilated, I’m quite amazed, to say the most.

GirlFriend

I think I know why he must have recovered so fast…

…Or should I say, we?

BF chuckles and nods to GF

Dr. Mendel

However ways it had to be, it’s aside the table now.

Point here is, your health is stable again, and therefore, you’re up to get discharged from here

BoyFriend

Excited. Beep? Boop!

(*Really? Cool!)

GirlFriend

Le happy face. Yay, finally~

Dr. Mendel

Woah there, you two

GirlFriend // BoyFriend

…?

Dr. Mendel

I understand you’re all for leaving this place. (unfinished)

oKAY Bois NOW we talking about stuff

FNF Static Memories guys where u at

Yes the smiling face is his losing icon

In fact, aside from Mendel, most of the undead show a glad expression when you beat them

I can’t blame them considering the circumstances he’s doing so –BF’s condition seeming to be better (Mendel) / slowly-but-surely fixing the power outage problem on the hood’s places he goes to-

And looky, I even made him a custom design for the ‘GO!’ title card

How cute (?)

…Actually, he’s also kinda cute

Don’t approve that much the fact he does the smoek though

(yeahesamaryjanestuntoowhaddyagonnadoaboutit-)

4.-Grawlbert’s in-game sprite concept

(…)

Similar case with Mendel, but this time it’s more zombie-related

…and funny enough, that custom card would appear every time BF faces an undead oops-

Even the mic is customized now lmao

No sprites extras this time tho, sad cri :^(

5.-Grave-nan in-game sprite concept

(…)

Everything cool till you take a peek at the icons, specially the one where he’s losing…

Get weird with it, my inner demon said

It’ll be fun, it said

I regret it

…a little

But I still kinda regret it

thoughconsideringbfiscanonicallygaythensobeitiguess-

6.-BF’s icon, but the sickness is getting to him a little harder

Okay now I’m worried

Like, you doing ok there pal? Ya need a drink or anything?

7.-BF’s modified mic

About to get serious, I see?

Again, this was made before I changed my mind about the crack in the mic and stuff, but it doesn’t take away the original intent for this

How does this work exactly? I’ll explain it short:

There’s no light in the hood, so BF has to keep his mic on somehow when he brings it with him outside his old house (or apartment, not really sure about it yet)

Boyfriend is basically the battery of it, since his own energy gets transferred to the mic and then turned into pure electricity (not exactly sure how that’s possible in concrete sense but eh-)

However, here’s what’s funny: Turns out the outage is actually due to a spell that made the electric zones malfunction, and the way to get them work fine again is through intense and well-timed frequencies…aka rapping

Yup, they ‘reload’ the same way his modified mic does, but only if they’re directly connected to it, and if he’s in a crucial zone near the power core, specifically where the bosses I’ve just thought out previously are at

…I basically resumed half the storyline here as a whole (or at least that’s mostly what it is supposed to be), nice move there Phids you magnificient rascal

Though, I needed to correct myself on the mechanics over there, cuz let’s be real, how do u get electroshocked when power is basically 0%??? It doesn’t make any sense

8.-Medicine

Can kill the zombie bacteria if you’re bitten by one…but can’t do anything when you’re in the Graveyard

thenwhatsthepointinusingitatall--

9.-Mendel’s microphone

ANOTHER CUSTOM MIC WOOOOOOOOO

Don’t judge me, I like making those, it’s really fun

#friday night funkin'#fnfau #bfsh #alt universe #alternative timeline #alternate universe #au #at #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years ago

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Smoke & Mirrors - part 6

Neil x Reader

Chapter 6: You’re mine

(see chapter 5, 4, 3, 2, 1)

summary: a conclusion.

warnings: alcohol mention, language and other explicit things, 18+

author’s note: When @vaneilla first mentioned she had an idea for a story, I thought it was a good opportunity to challenge myself with writing something new. I had no idea how attached I was going to get to these two over the course of the last weeks.

But this is it. Not the final story, but the finale of this story.

Couldn’t have finished it without my friends, putting up with me and my bullshit at the craziest hours, so ladies - thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

And thank YOU, for your support. For staying until the very end.

As for the song - you have to wait til you finish reading.

Anyway, enjoy! Can’t wait to see what you think, so let me know, please?

------

Things between you and Neil were… civilized, so to speak. Because of your recent promotion, you really were stuck with him. Training, missions, planning, and back again.

Two of those things were not a problem, the worst part of it all was training together, especially those bloody sparring sessions.

None of you could hide behind tactical gear, a stack of documents, or a laptop. Or anything even remotely resembling a barrier of some sort, making it easier to pretend that nothing had happened. Ever. Having that, both of you were the embodiment of professionalism, focused on a shared goal, one could even say that the mutual respect was visible in your actions. But as soon as you collided with each other in combat, you found yourselves slipping into old patterns almost instantly--

“Why don’t you hit me like you mean it?”

“Oh blondie, I really don’t feel like bulletproofing those next variations all by myself.”

“Aren’t you cute.”

--at least up to the point, and that point usually being one of you getting pinned to the mat. That look in his eyes, not helping in the slightest. The pure need overriding every other thought. Your bodies ready to respond in complete disregard of any sense. And then, every time without fail, the memory of a searing embarrassment snapped you out of the moment, casting a bitter shade over the rest of the time you had to be in such close proximity to each other.

Your back hit the mat with a loud thud again.

“Know what, your lack of focus is almost insulting, mate.”

“Fuck off,” you hissed, sitting up and glaring at Ives. “Remind me again, why am I even training with you today?”

“Thought we could catch up.”

You scoffed, accepting a hand extended in your direction.

“Couldn’t we do that over a pint or something?”

He shrugged lightly. “Would have to stop avoiding everyone first,” he said, his voice casually mocking, but you knew him well enough to know what that look in his eyes meant. He was concerned.

You put your guard up.

“I’ve been busy.”

That wasn’t a lie. Technically. And if you didn’t have enough on your plate to keep your mind occupied – because you could only spend so much time at the shooting range – you always found a way to make yourself busy. That’s exactly how you survived the last couple of days - you dived into your team’s archived reports, analyzing old operations and figuring out ways to improve and incorporate particularly interesting tactics into the next planning sessions. Because, of course, the initial draft from that evening was just plan A, and now you needed several backup ones, just in case anything went sideways. Murphy never sleeps, so why should you, right?

“Uh-huh,” Ives sent you a doubtful smile. “Fucking it out stopped working?” he teased and threw a punch aimed at your head.

The audacity of the question was almost enough to stop you in your tracks, but you ducked, avoiding his flying fist just barely. Still, it felt as if the hit landed straight at your chest.

“What gave you that idea?” you huffed as you started circling him slowly.

Your friend raised a brow, studying you carefully. “A wild guess, but your reaction is rather telling.” He blocked your hook to his chin. “But honestly? The lack of your usual bullshit in the comms.”

Damn it.

It had been a while since you trained with Ives, Now that you finally focused on what was going on, you realized that his hand-to-hand combat style was so different from what you’d gotten used to over the last weeks of training - he was more about strength and endurance than speed and precision, and you needed to adjust your tactics accordingly.

“You need to work smarter, not harder.”

Wiping sweat from your forehead, you tried to make your tone as nonchalant as possible.

“Maybe we’ve grown as people,” you said, shifting your balance back and forth, waiting for an opening.

An amused snort was enough of a comment.

“Or someone’s caught feelings,” he pondered, charging at you.

You laughed dryly, jumping out of his way.

“Like you’d be the one to know.”

The kick you sent after him reached its destination and Ives grunted before turning your way, perplexed.

“Oi, the fuck was that supposed to mean?”

A closed chapter.

“Nothing,” you shrugged. His next attack was sloppy and your eyes flared up, spotting the perfect opportunity. Quick sidestep and grab. Precisely applied pressure. Well-practiced twist. Using Ives’ own weight and momentum, you sent him to the ground with ease.

A smug grin crept on your face at the sound of him turning the air blue.

“You’ve had enough?”

Ives gave you a murderous glare, trying to catch his breath.

“Stop gloating and give me a hand.”

Next thing you knew, you were lying next to him on the mat, wondering how you could fall for the oldest trick of his. Without changing your position, you punched him in the arm. He laughed in response and you shook your head, stifling a chuckle.

With the corner of your eye, you caught his worried glance.

“You know you can always talk to me, right?”

“I appreciate it, but--...” you hesitated and sighed. The offer meant a lot to you, but you didn’t really feel like talking.

Ives sent you a knowing smile.

“But you’d rather just grab that beer and brood in silence, eh?”

“I don’t brood,” you faked an offended tone and got up on your knees, reaching out your hand again.

“Since when?” Ives smirked and accepted your help, only for you to let him fall on his ass in the next second.

Damn, you really missed this, you realized later on, closing your locker. In your line of work, it was almost impossible to cultivate relationships with civilians, so the ones you made with your teammates were essentially the only friendships in your life. And with everything that was going on over the past few weeks, having someone like Ives around felt like a true blessing.

You exhaled slowly. It was supposed to be your first free evening in a long time, as your boss asked Neil to accompany him to some work-related event. You could use that time off to recharge - order some comfort food, watch something from your ever-growing list of movies you had to catch up on, or simply have some you time...

You looked around to check if you hadn’t forgotten anything, and then your gaze landed on that certain spot and--

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

All of the sudden, the thought of going back to a dark and empty apartment was unbearable. You grabbed your bag and rushed outside.

“Ives…?” you called out, stopping at the top of the stairs. As he turned around and looked up, you shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “That beer offer still stands?”

“You know it.” His eyes warmed up as you made your way to him. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, as you walked down the street together.

You looped your arm around his waist in return and sighed quietly, easing into the embrace.

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

Neil tossed a clipboard across the table and rubbed his face.

“We’ll run out of letters soon.”

You glanced at him from your spot on the windowsill.

“Wanna bet some idiot is gonna end up improvising anyway?” you said, closing your laptop.

“Jesus, don’t even make me think about it,” he groaned and shot you a tired look. And as he noticed your raised brow, he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That was one time!”

“I didn’t say anything,” you pouted, slipping to the floor.

“Didn’t have to.”

The insulted expression on his face contrasted with a spark in his gaze as you snickered, piling up all the notes littering the windowsill. You placed them on the laptop, and in the name of your general rule that you'd rather eat barren rocks than go twice, you lifted everything up, balancing the stack, careful not to scatter it around. Should have paid more attention while reaching for your empty glass, though.

The glass shattered on the floor, sending broken pieces all over the place.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, putting your stuff back, your face flushed from embarrassment.

Neil jumped up from the sofa. “It’s nothing,” he said, waving his hand dismissively and sending you a reassuring smile. “I’ll get something to pick it up, just don’t move.”

A quite accurate representation of everything slipping out of your hands, you thought as you squatted, collecting the bigger chunks with shaking fingers. Sharp pain in your palm made you realize how much of a stupid idea was that.

“Motherfucker!” you hissed, dropping the now bloodied glass on the ground and flapping your hand as if it could stop it from aching.

Neil emerged from the hall, carrying a broom and a roll of paper towels.

“Couldn’t you have waited one goddamn minute?”

“Excuse me for wanting to help,” you huffed angrily and stood up.

Swiping the glass out of his way, he eyed you with concern.

“How bad is it?”

You glanced at the injured palm and winced, fighting the childish urge to hide it behind your back. “Just a small cut.”

But your casual tone was not convincing enough. Neil’s features tightened as he put the broom away.

“Let me take a look,” he said, tearing off a sheet from the roll. Without giving you much of a chance to protest, Neil reached for your hand. He smacked the tongue and shook his head as he examined the wound, carefully wiping off the blood from around its edges. “You’ll live, but we have to clean it up.”

You realized you were holding your breath. Not from the pain, though - it was the first time you felt his touch outside of training since that initial evening in his apartment, and something as simple as the light strokes of his fingers was enough to send your heart racing.

Get yourself together.

You inhaled sharply.

“I can do it myself, thanks,” you said, trying to slip away from his grasp, but he wasn’t ready to let you go that easily.

“But you don’t have to.”

The enigmatic look in his eyes was unnerving. You glared at him with determination and pulled your hand out of his.

“I’m fine.”

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, watching as you crossed the room cautiously, your bare feet tiptoeing around every glimmering spot on the hardwood floor on your way to the kitchen, where you knew Neil kept his first aid kit. Your thoughts wandered back to that one evening he answered the door mid-buttoning up the striped shirt of his.

“Can come back later if you have company...”

“I’m sure arnica is not gonna mind you joining in, a dirty little ointment that she is.”

Rolling your eyes almost as hard as the previous time, you opened a cabinet next to the sink and took out the kit. As you began cleaning the cut, you could hear Neil swiping the glass and tossing it to the bin behind you shortly after, when you were almost done.

But the further you got into the process, the more you struggled, having to use your slightly trembling non-dominant hand to deal with all the unpacking, disinfecting, and so on. And when a bandage slipped out of your hand, rolling out to the floor, you spurted out a litany of curses. Trying to salvage it into a state that would make it relatively easy to use, you noticed Neil casually leaned against the further end of the countertop with his arms crossed, looking at you with a smug grin.

“Need a hand?”

You wanted to snap back at him, but then your fingers cramped and you winced, exhaling shakily. Neil walked up to you and as his eyes met yours, you slumped your shoulders in defeat, nodding. He took the messed up bandage and rolled it back into a more usable form, the amusement in his expression tainted by something resembling a fondness. Holding your injured hand gently, he readjusted the gauze over the cut. You turned his way fully, your gaze transfixed on his moves as he meticulously dressed the wound. When he was done, he examined his work, running his digits across your palm. A corner of his lips curled into a smile and you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore a sudden heartache.

He arched a brow and looked up at you. Playful lights danced in his eyes as his thumbs stroked your fingers slowly.

“Your pride still intact?”

“Just barely,” you said and internally cursed your hoarse voice for exposing you and your reaction to him, his closeness and his attention. “Thank you.”

Neil smiled in response and his gaze softened. He raised your hand and placed a small kiss on your knuckles. Your mouth fell open but he already let go of you and started packing the first aid kit back into the cabinet. You left the kitchen in a hurry, the initial shock got replaced with a mix of frustration, anger and confusion. What the fuck was he thinking?

Grabbing your laptop on the way, you fell on the sofa, hoping it was enough of a barrier to shield yourself with until you get your storming emotions under control again.

Neil sat down on the armrest and the blue eyes bored into you.

It took all your self-control not to shift away, just to gain a little more personal space, but you were determined not to give away how uncomfortable you felt at the moment. Instead, you simply pressed your lips into a thin line, reading one sentence from the opened document over and over again, waiting for Neil to back off voluntarily.

As if you’d forgotten how persistent he could be.

"Okay, enough.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Can you tell me what's going on with you?"

You shot him the most indifferent glance from your arsenal.

“I’m trying to get the job done, despite my coworker’s attempts at distracting me with some impertinent questions.”

“You’re funny,” he grimaced. “And what is it, really?”

"Nothing."

Neil laughed dryly. "One thing I've learned about you is not to trust your nothings."

You closed your eyes for a second, trying to keep your nerves at bay.

What could you possibly tell him to make this whole mess between you more bearable?

"Drop it. We have plenty of work to do."

A sore scoff.

"If that’s truly what you want," he said, shrugging.

But his bitter tone was the match in the powder barrel, and you couldn’t stand it anymore.

"And what do you want, huh?!" you exploded and sprung from the sofa, tossing the laptop away. Neil’s eyes widened as he stood up slowly, but the confusion on his face was only fueling your despair. "Tell me, because just when I think I know, you pull off some--” flailing your arms around, you searched for any appropriate word to push through the lump in your throat. ”--some bullshit, and I can't go on like this, so tell me - what do you want?"

Neil stared at you in disbelief, shaking his head slightly, as if he had trouble coming to terms with the turn this conversation had taken.

"I want you,” he said, stepping in your direction.

You chuckled harshly. Could have expected that.

“Sure,” you spat out, turning away, the pain in your chest making you struggle to draw a breath.

And then a sudden touch on your clenched fist.

“No, not like that!” he huffed, taking your hand in his and pulling it gently so you faced him again. “I mean-- ...yes, of course I do, but that’s not what I have in mind, goddammit.” He cringed and groaned quietly. And then he gave you a look so hopeless it took your breath away. “I care about you. I…” he stumbled over his words and blinked a few times in a futile attempt to compose himself. "I want...you." He moved closer. “The right way.” Neil cupped your face with his free hand and as he leaned in, you exhaled shakily. He softly stroked your nose with his, the familiar gesture letting you know how much he wanted to turn back time to fix his mistake from before. His broken voice shifted into a breathless plea. "Let me show you. Please."

You closed your eyes, melting into his touch.

“Neil…” you sighed, as his name was the only thing left in you when your mind went blank. Allowing your fingers to interlock, you raised your joined hands and pressed them to your chest so he could feel the heart pounding in your chest. The light brush of his thumb against your cheek made you look at him again, right into his longing eyes. You bit your lower lip to stop it from trembling and nodded.

A sharp chuckle escaped his mouth as his hand slipped into the back of your neck, pulling you into his embrace, your joined hands trapped between you, the racing heartbeats speaking more than a thousand words.

You wrapped your other arm around him and while you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your injured hand fisted on the material of his black hoodie, as if you were afraid that as soon as you let him go, you would never get him back again, losing him forever.

While Neil’s hand slid from your neck down your back, tightening the embrace, the other one loosened the hold of yours, grazing over your collarbone on its way up, and tangling itself in your hair. You felt his warm breath on your neck and then a soft kiss just below your ear. You bit back a needy whine and your eyes screwed shut as Neil tipped your chin and his lips traveled along your jawline and stopped in the corner of your mouth. His thumb glided over your lips slowly and you opened your eyes, your fingertips already mirroring his gesture. He gasped and his gaze darkened. The yearning pouring from the blue irises resonated in your every particle and hazed over your mind.

“I need you,” you breathed. Three words being both a confession and a prayer.

A corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

There was a purposeful lack of urgency in his movements as he laid you down on the bed and undressed you, his lips greeting every inch of your bare skin with admiration. You followed, getting rid of the clothes that stood in your way, exploring his toned body with the reverence it deserved. The way his breath hitched when he eased into your hands made any coherence dissolve in your mind.

But Neil could give as good as he got, and he already knew how to work you. So you melted under his fingers. Every touch set you ablaze. Every kiss he left on you made you crave for more. More of this. More of him.

“Neil--…” you begged, bucking your hips, dragging your nails against his shoulders.

The roguish twinkle in his eyes when he crawled up to you made your heart skip a bit. He hovered over you, mesmerized by the view of you falling apart for him that easily.

“Look at you, so eager,” he teased leaning in, a husky voice carrying a smug smile. His teeth grazed your earlobe and a shiver ran down your spine.

“Takes one to kno--...oh fuck,” you panted as his thumb circled your clit, your reaction prompting a hoarse chuckle against your neck. Your hands flew to his hair and you tugged on the blonde strands, tilting his head. A groan built in his throat and it was your turn to let out a pleased laugh. “Stop playing around,” you rasped, hooking one leg over his hip as you sucked on his jaw, the sharp edge that drove you wild your every waking hour. And as your hand wandered impatiently down his body, Neil grabbed it and pinned it over your head, lacing your fingers together.

“Gladly.”

A moan escaped your mouth, taking any last resolve left in you with it. Your eyes fluttered shut. The fire in the pit of your stomach kept rising with every move of his. Even with the pure want overcoming both of you, Neil’s thrusts were slow, almost tantalizingly so, but you didn’t feel the need to ask for more. Not yet. You relished the sensation of his weight on top of you. The way his chest heaved against you. The breath you shared. There was only him. Filling your body. Filling your mind. And, undeniably now, filling your heart, too.

You looked into his eyes.

Your free hand already on the nape of his neck.

The pulse pounding in your ears.

You pulled him closer.

And kissed his lips softly.

Neil gasped breathlessly, his grasp on your hand tightened as his brows furrowed slightly and he kissed you back, athirst, and the pace of your lips matched the rhythm of your bodies instinctively. When you broke the contact, the awestruck look he gave you was filled with so much affection. Tenderness. And absolute devotion, like he would follow you to the end of the world if you asked him to.

You bit back a quiet sob.

And then he let you go and sat on the bed, a sudden lack of his closeness drawing a deprived whimper out of you. He laughed and pulled you into his arms again, and as you straddled his torso, he tucked his long legs under you, nesting you in his embrace perfectly.

The blue eyes wandered around your face and his features softened as he wiped off a single tear rolling down your cheek with his knuckles. Oh. Neil searched your gaze, making sure you were all right, and you smiled, feeling your heart melting a little inside.

His hands slid down your sides to your hips and he lifted you up, helping you position yourself on top of him. You held onto his shoulders, and as you lowered yourself down, taking him in fully, your back arched and your head fell back. You moaned and bit your lip, the pleasure searing your every nerve. God, he felt so good.

Captivated by the view in front of his eyes, by your reaction to him, Neil licked his lips and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

His mouth traveled through your chest as you rocked back and forth, gasping when he cupped your breast with his hand and rolled your nipple between his fingers. You tipped his chin to kiss him again, couldn’t get enough of him. You savored his taste. The heat of his body. His scent. Him. Utterly stunning.

The pressure built inside of you, threatening to consume you any moment now. And if the hazed blue eyes could be any indication, Neil wasn’t far behind you, too.

So you slowed down, agonizingly.

The wounded expression on his face was somewhat satisfying.

“...a payback?” he huffed in disbelief.

“Couldn’t resist,” you purred with a wicked grin, enjoying the way he groaned when you started rocking your hips again. He screwed his eyes shut and your name rolled off his tongue. You captured his parted lips in a kiss and kept grinding into him, every move bringing you closer to the release. You closed your eyes, panting frantically, trembling, almost collapsing. But he was there, holding you firmly in his arms, keeping you going.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

Encouragement. Reassurance. But also a statement. And epiphany.

You cried out and the reality shattered as the blissful pleasure rippled through every fiber of your being. Cupping Neil’s face, you kissed him again, riding out your high, feeling he was getting closer to the brink himself. You buried your hands in his hair and tugged at them, rolling your hips and he cursed and moaned, coming into you hard, pulling you to him as close as he could.

When the world stopped spinning and your gazes met, it dawned on you that there was no turning back now. He saw you. And right through you.

And judging by the tender look in his eyes, he rather liked it.

How fortunate.

Because the feeling was very much mutual.

And you weren’t afraid anymore.

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

The moonlight seeping through the window was slowly gaining warmer undertones. You glanced at the sky visible between the tall buildings - must have been dawning already.

Grunting softly, you turned to the other side, shivering at the sensation of the chilly air against your skin, and you melted at the sight.

The impossibly ruffled blonde hair. The peaceful face, half-planted into a pillow. The gorgeous lines of his arms. The veiny forearms. The watch, still present on his wrist. The hands--...

“You’re staring at me.”

Your gaze flitted back to his face, only to see a corner of his lips twitching into a smile.

You stifled a giggle.

“And what about it?” you teased, propping the chin on your palm.

Neil opened his eyes and a cheeky grin crept on his mouth. “Seems like a good moment to mention that I don’t fold my underwear.”

You couldn’t keep the straight face at the reference and you let out an amused snort.

“Ah, nobody’s perfect,” you said, aiming for the most sympathizing tone.

The playful sparks lit up the blue irises as he grabbed your uninjured hand.

“Come here, you--” he chuckled, pulling you into his arms, entangling your legs together as you laid face to face on his pillow.

He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, gazing into your eyes fondly.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, stroking your cheek with his knuckles gently.

“Just woke up,” you said, easing into his touch. ”And got...distracted.”

A knowing hum was enough of a comment.

You slid down a bit and hid your face in the crook of his neck. Neil tightened his embrace and started tracing small patterns on your back. You let out a happy sigh, reveling in his warmth and closeness.

“Am I going to see this side of you more often now?”

“Maybe,” you wondered.

Neil sighed and smacked his tongue. “Such a shame, that obnoxiously angry chick started to grow on me.”

An outraged scoff escaped your mouth.

“Oh, fu--” you started, pulling back to glare at him, but he didn’t let you finish. Cupping your face with his hands mid-curse, he placed a kiss on your lips, deepening it at the sound of your incoherent protests. When you finally kissed him back, you felt him smiling against you, and then you lost yourselves in this little moment of bliss until you ended up breathless.

“You’re perfect,” whispered Neil, nudging your nose with his tenderly.

Your heart sang in your chest as you laughed softly in response, “You’re quite okay yourself.”

He mumbled something about you being insufferable and pinned you into the mattress, climbing on top of you.

“Aren’t you tired?” you gasped as his mouth traveled down your neck.

A throaty chuckle. “Of you?” And a roguish smile. “Impossible, I’m afraid.”

That smug bastard.

You didn’t stand a chance.

You knew you were beyond saving.

...or maybe quite the opposite?

--------

“You’re humming,” noted Ives as you left the HQ together.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at him, wrapping your jacket a little tighter, trying to protect yourself from the cold wind.

“Don’t be absurd.”

He studied you warily.

“I’ve heard what I’ve heard.”

“You should mention that during your next medical then,” you said, arching your brow.

He snorted and punched your arm playfully and you grinned, hitting him back.

“Oi, wanna grab a beer?”

You ran your fingers through your hair, grimacing slightly, suddenly embarrassed.

“I can’t. I--…I have a date,”

His eyes lit up. “A proper date now?” he teased, shaking his head. “You two are a tad backwards, eh?”

You shrugged and smiled, waving at the blonde man on the bottom of the stairs.

“Seems fitting for our line of work, don’t you think?”

---------

“What took you so long?”

“Neil, I swear to god, if you don’t stop asking me that every damn time you lead the blue team--”

“I can ask our boss to demote you and put you back on my squad if you want.”

“I’d rather take that total annihilation instead, please and thank you.”

The Protagonist sighed, joining Ives outside the building.

“Some things never change, huh?” he pondered.

They watched as the bickering couple walked down the street together.

Ives smirked, spotting the joined hands.

“Well, that’s new.”

Wheeler walked up to them. “These two are made for each other, all right.”

TP puffed out his chest slightly.

“I told you so.”

She glanced heavenward, keeping her next thought to herself.

Then she looked at the couple again, just to see a light tug at the olive green scarf.

And a kiss that followed.

She smiled.

Her job was done.

You’re welcome, dumbasses.

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

a/n: I promised you a song.

Here it is.

The song.

Their song.

Thank you, A.

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #tenet #robert pattinson #neil tenet fanfiction #tenet fanfiction #the protagonist tenet #ives tenet #wheeler tenet #neil tenet imagine #smoke & mirrors

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neutron-stars-collision · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 9 - ‘The Kindest of Kisses Break the Hardest of Hearts”

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 (swear I’ll make a masterlist soon)

Summary: Back in London, you find unexpected help in the form of Ives. But when Neil comes back sparks fly... ✨

Warnings: Swearing.

Author’s Notes: So here’s the chapter I’m incredibly excited about... Suppose I should thank Dior for inspiration in this one. Hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing the last scene! Please let me know what you think!

You did not remember the last time you were this happy to be back in London. After the mission in Paris was done, Jasper went back to Boston, and you were free to do what you wanted. You contacted TP, told him how the mission went (without certain details), and in return, got told to wait for more information regarding the next steps. By your estimation, it was less than two weeks left till Kiev and the day when the mysterious plan will be set into motion. You were scared.

Ever since that day in Paris when Neil called, you had a difficult time maintaining normal conversation with him. He would message asking about something as mundane as how your day went, and you would only respond with a short sentence. You could not really explain it if asked. It was as though after hearing his voice and letting yourself have that conversation with him, all the doubts came back with a tripled strength. Suddenly you could almost believe Jasper and his harsh words suggesting that you were not important in Neil’s eyes. Maybe he just liked flirting, and you were conveniently there? That sounded rather plausible. Ever since you started naming those thoughts, an ache in your chest was hard to ignore. And so you did the best you could, which in this case meant low-key ghosting Neil and losing yourself in training and work.

Surely with enough time and space, you would get over it (him), right?

That was the state of your mind the day when rather surprising help appeared. You have been back in London for a few days and have not really interacted with anyone. Usually, you would spend two hours in the shooting range and then in a sparring session. After you were done, you would retreat to your room and try to ignore the texts that were still occasionally coming.

“How’s London treating you? Say hello to Anna from me” you glanced at the screen and frowned.

The instant temptation to text back was still there. Only now, it was tainted with much more anxiety and uncertainty.

“It’s alright, rather quiet. I haven’t seen her around though. Maybe she’s moping after you”

Like I am? You sighed and chose to focus on notes from the physics class. You were saved from the study by an unexpected knock on the door. Without thinking, you got up and opened it, only to see Ives standing there with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Hi” you muttered, worried you have forgotten how to behave like a human being.

“Hello, love” he grinned “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No, I was actually rather bored” you admitted with a sheepish smile.

You heard the distinct buzz of a text message but chose to ignore it. You were slowly getting better at the game.

“That’s terrific because I thought we could have a coffee in the canteen and chat” Ives’ thick cockney accent was somewhat adorable.

And you could definitely do with a distraction.

“I’d love that” you beamed back at him and left the room, locking the door behind you.

As you walked side by side along the corridor, you struggled to say something.

“How did you know I’m here?” finally you settled for a rather easy question.

“I’ve seen you at the shooting range in the morning” he watched you closely for a short moment “You’re fucking amazing, did you know that?”

“Oh no, I’m really not” you felt your face heat up.

“Yeah you are” he playfully nudged you in the side “You could probably teach me a thing or two”.

You glared at him and then quickly considered your options.

“Only if you taught me how not to be knocked out within the first two minutes of the hand in hand combat” you knew you could use help in that department.

“Deal?” Ives stopped and turned to you with an outstretched hand.

“Deal” you shook it with a grin.

Once you made it to the mess hall, you noticed with relief that it was rather quiet. You both made coffee and sat down at the table in the corner. After a few moments of comfortable silence when you sipped your drinks, Ives spoke up:

“What have you been up to?” he was eyeing you curiously.

Even though you barely knew him, you felt at ease. There was no enigma of TP to him or Neil’s intensity. Instead, he was just a friendly bloke with sharp wits.

“Oh you know, shit mission in New York and now even shittier one in Paris” you frowned at the fresh memories “Though I suppose the recent one at least ended with success” you mused.

It was true not all of your missions have ended with a huge fuck up. And that was somewhat encouraging.

“With Jasper?”

“Yeah” your frown deepened, and Ives grinned.

“My condolences. He’s a right pain in the ass”

“Well said” you laughed, finally feeling some of the tension of the last few days dissolve.

But it was not meant to be for long. Before either of you spoke again, you heard your phone buzz. You took it out of the pocket and glanced at the received text. It was him, of course. You grimaced and placed the phone screen down on the table as if to avoid the temptation. All the while you felt Ives’s attentive gaze. He has not missed a thing.

“Neil?” he asked, watching you closely with a neutral face.

“Yeah…” you shrugged, avoiding his stare “I’ll probably sound pathetic… but do you know where he is?”

Once the question was out of your mouth, you felt your cheeks heat up. It was one thing to worry about him daily. Another to actually voice the worries. But Ives did not seem to mind. He quickly considered something before leaning over the table.

“He’s in India, dealing with some sudden disruption. I was there with him in the beginning” at your unspoken question, he added “He’s fine, often said that’s partially thanks to you” he eyed you carefully, and you looked down at the table, flustered.

“It’s more that if I wasn’t there, he wouldn’t even need help in the first place” you mumbled, feeling the guilt gnaw at your heart.

Still, sometimes you kept wondering why on earth had he decided to shield you back in the bar. But any possible answer to the question meant having to assume something about Neil’s intentions. And that was dangerous territory.

“Should I ask?” Ives’ question brought you back to the present moment.

“Better not” you smiled wryly, and he just nodded.

“He wouldn’t shut up about you sometimes, you know” he spoke up again after a short silence, making you look up.

You were not sure you liked the cheeky smirk that appeared on Ives’ face. You were not going to give in.

“He’ll get over it in no time, I’m sure” you feigned nonchalance as you finished your coffee and met his gaze.

“Are you two good?”

You just shrugged. To be frank, you had no clue how to answer that. Was there even such an entity as ‘you two’ when it came to you and Neil?

“Well, whatever is going on, know that I’m ready to slap some sense into him if needed” Ives grinned at you, and you beamed back.

“Appreciated”

The next few minutes passed in companionable silence. That is until your brain rudely decided to suggest another pressing question.

“Is he there… alone?” you cringed as soon as you said it aloud.

No point in trying to sound disinterested…

“Nah, Wheeler stayed with a couple of others” his stare was way too knowing.

You felt a sharp stab of pain in your heart. What even… There was no reason to be jealous. Right? As you were internally debating what the new feelings were supposed to mean, you failed to notice Ives’ grinning at your distress.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous” he was enjoying it way too much.

“What? No, I’m not” you tried to scoff at this insinuation but failed miserably.

“Yeah, you are” that’s how you learnt that Ives had his own version of a shit-eating grin.

Was that a part of the Tenet work application?

“Mate, Neil and Wheeler wouldn’t fuck each other even if I paid them. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you” Ives wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and you groaned.

You glared at him, unable to come up with any good response.

“What? I may have only seen you two together once, but it was clear to me that dear Neil is interested. Very much so” he smirked at your wide-eyed stare “But I don’t think that’s in any way news for you” he squinted his eyes as though trying to see right through your soul.

“Please, let’s leave psychoanalysis for another date” you grabbed the phone from the table and looked at him pleadingly.

“Of course” he grinned “When shall we have our first sparring lesson?”

“Tomorrow morning. Be there at 9” you got up “Thanks for the chat”

“Anytime, love” he waved as you left the canteen.

*** Combat lessons with Ives have proven to be a gift from the gods in the days that followed. He would accompany you to the shooting range afterward as well under the pretence of wanting to learn from you. Even though you were sure it was utter bullshit as he could hit the marks as well as you, if not better, you appreciated the sentiment. To say that his help in the sparring sessions meant you have greatly improved would be an overstatement, but certainly, additional tips slowly started to make a difference. All that distraction meant you also spent much less time wondering about Neil’s whereabouts and asking yourself existential questions about your own feelings. That was probably the best outcome of the situation.

Another morning of the sparring session began with you and Ives meeting in the gym as usual.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as you entered the gym.

“More or less” you grinned, stifling a yawn.

Last night you spent way too much time overthinking the text exchange with Neil. All it took was for him to mention ‘the fun you had in New York’ and then compare it to the recent night undercover. To you, it meant that Jasper was right, and you were just another ‘flirting companion’. And that shit hurt.

“That will have to do then” he tossed a water bottle in your direction, and you caught it easily.

You set it down on the side and the mat and stood facing Ives. After a short warm-up, he began showing you the way of blocking punches aimed at your upper body. While the demonstration always looked easy, once you went onto the practice, you have begun to struggle. After getting a third light punch to the shoulder, you huffed:

“Maybe I should just give up and become a sniper” you rubbed the aching spot.

“That could work” he grinned “Though I’m not sure how Neil would feel about that career change”

“Fuck Neil” you made sure to put up your guard, expecting another punch.

“I see how it is” Ives smirked before he threw a hit towards your other shoulder.

This one you blocked. And the one afterward as well. Slowly, with only a few mistakes, you got the hang of the game. That is until you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat by the door. You both turned to see Anna standing there.

“Y/N, can I speak to you for a moment?” she sent you a fake smile.

Christ…

“Of course”

You looked at Ives with panic in your eyes before you followed her into the corridor. Anna was clearly uncomfortable with having to talk to you, and that did not ease the tension.

“What’s the matter?” you spoke up first, hating the awkwardness of the moment.

“Neil called me yesterday” she paused, and you frowned.

“Yeah?” if she wanted to torture you, she has succeeded.

“He wanted me to let you know that they got Steiner in New York” despite Anna’s best attempts at keeping her face neutral, you knew she was enjoying this.

“Okay, thanks” you smiled weakly, trying to ignore the jealousy building up in your chest.

“Oh, and he says he should be back next week” now she was smiling dazzlingly.

“Great” you mumbled and showed her your brightest grin “Thank you”

With that, you chose to end the tortures for you both and went back into the gym. At Ives’ questioning stare, you just glared. He understood instantly.

“Fuck Neil?” he offered you a sip from the water bottle, which you gladly accepted.

“Mhmm”

There was so much to unpack from what Anna told you. Partially, you knew your ghosting was to be blamed for the situation but still, it hurt. Especially the unspoken fact that Neil has called her. You knew you were being ridiculous but could not ignore the feelings that were attacking every fibre of your being.

“Ready for another round?” Ives looked at you worriedly.

“Absolutely”

*** A few days later, as you left a meeting covering suspicious activity around London, your head was most certainly elsewhere. Ever since the awkward situation with Anna, you were not sure what to do with yourself. Only carefree moments were those you spent in the shooting range or learning hand to hand combat with Ives, who was surprisingly great at distracting you.

Walking along the corridor, you were too busy worrying about all those texts you have ignored to see where you were going. With eyes trained on the floor, you barely registered the surroundings. And that is why you were incredibly surprised when you unexpectedly collided with something solid standing on your path.

“Fuck” you muttered before slowly realising that you have, in fact, walked into a person.

You felt someone’s hands reach out to steady you by wrapping around your waist. The next thing you registered was the smell. A very familiar one that you have tried to repress from memory for the past few weeks. You felt panic surge through your whole body before you let out a long exhale and lifted your head.

“Didn’t expect our reunion to be that dramatic, but I’m not complaining” Neil grinned at you with that smug look on his face you have grown to hate.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you” you choose to stare at his tie.

A nice burgundy one which he has worn in New York, during the mission. At the memory, your cheeks grew somehow warmer, and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to be swallowed by the earth. But to no avail.

“Are you alright?” his voice broke through the increasing paralysis.

“Yeah” you forced yourself to look up at him again.

The concern in his eyes only made your desire to run stronger. But his grip on your waist was unyielding. You were acutely aware of standing in the middle of the corridor. Anyone could pass by and see you like that. But it looked like Neil did not care.

“I tried calling you last night” his voice was tense.

Shit.

“Sorry I was busy” you were a terrible liar.

And, of course, he saw right through you. You noticed how the look in his eyes went from concern to serious worry, and you desperately wanted to flee the scene. He was studying your face, and you tried to look anywhere but at him. After a beat, he must have found some answers in your conflicted expression because he relaxed the grip on your waist, giving you a way out.

“If I said anything wrong…” you were thrown off by the slightly wounded look in his eyes.

Now that you actually could run away, you did not want to. Not without making sure he understood.

“You haven’t” you took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing heart “It’s… just things that Jasper said and stuff… it made me think” you mentally groaned, annoyed at how you could not form a coherent sentence.

But Neil understood as he nodded and reached for your hand. You let him lead you to a quieter spot in the adjacent corridor. You were still paralyzed with conflicting feelings, but now also curious. The voice in the back of your head kept on reminding you how much you have missed him. You had your back pressed against the wall and stared as he slowly stepped closer, making your personal space non-existent. It was suddenly hard to think about the reasons why you should not let him be this close. The look in his eyes was unreadable to you.

“I don’t know what that idiot told you or what’s going on in your head, but it’s all wrong” you felt his free hand slide up your arm to rest on your neck and gently caress the skin there.

It was embarrassing how you responded to his touch with your body tensing and goosebumps appearing where his fingers made contact with your skin. It was hard to lie, even to yourself.

“Why should I believe you?” your voice sounded breathless already.

You knew you should have never let him get this close before you talked. But still, the way he looked at you was surprising. Any train of thought was interrupted when he brushed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. His eyes were darker than usual, and the intensity of his gaze alone made the flutters in your stomach appear.

“I’ve got a few reasons”

Gently he tilted your chin and covered your lips with his. You gasped at the contact and felt him smile against your mouth. Then, as though a switch was flipped, Neil started kissing you hungrily, and you responded in kind, letting your teeth graze his lower lip. When his hand wrapped around your neck, you felt lightheaded and breathless. But still, you deepened the kiss, making all the feelings you have tried to stifle lead the moment. It was scaringly easy to do. Only once you felt like you had no breath left, you broke the kiss and stared back at Neil with a dazed expression. That was not what you expected from your reunion.

“Hope that beat whatever Jasper had to offer you” he grinned, and you enjoyed the sight of his subtly swollen lips.

“Please don’t remind me” surprisingly, you could still form a sentence.

But that ability was soon to be gone as you watched mischievous sparks shine in his eyes. His lips curled into a smirk, and you knew you were fucked. In every meaning of the word. Before you could react, he leaned in closer again, kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving a trail of kisses down to your jawline, and then crook of the neck.

“Neil…” you breathed out, trying to somehow stop the situation from getting out of your hands.

“Yes?” he interlocked his fingers with yours, pinning your joined hands to the wall.

Perfect leverage. Thinking was getting increasingly difficult.

“I… I’ve missed you” that was not exactly what you wanted to say.

You heard him chuckle with his lips brushing the skin on your neck.

“Quite right” he kissed the spot beneath your ear “Too”.

You sighed at the sensation, tightening the grip on his hand and letting your other palm splay on his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt, you could feel the fast heartbeat. It was somewhat encouraging to know that it was not just your heart that was beating wildly. He was kissing your neck with something akin to reverence, which made you feel faint. The traces of reason left in your brain started screaming for attention.

“Neil” you huffed, annoyed at how you were unable to voice the mess of thoughts.

Slowly he lifted his head and looked back at you.

“I really like how you say my name” the roguish grin that began it all was back to haunt you “So breathless” his voice was huskier than usual.

He wanted to kill you, evidently.

You met his gaze helplessly, feeling vulnerable with how he could see right through you. He looked almost fascinated by your stunned expression. Then his eyes softened.

“I missed you too” you felt his hand travel down your body to settle on the hip “So much”.

That admission was all it took for you to lose it. Again. You leaned in and initiated another kiss, unable to deny the need you felt. Neil was ready as he easily matched the tempo you have set. This time neither of you wanted to rush it. Instead, you kissed slowly and delicately, enjoying the careless moment. You tangled your hand in his blonde strands, tugging lightly to bring him even closer. He groaned at the sensation, making you feel a new kind of tension. You wanted him to make that sound again. But before you could find ways of achieving that, on the periphery of your attention, you heard the distinctive sound of footsteps approaching fast. Then they stopped abruptly and were replaced with a shocked gasp.

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring straight at Anna. Fuck. She was frozen in the spot three meters away and had a bewildered expression on her face. You knew there was no way in hell she has not realised what was going on. You could only watch as her face scrunched up in a scowl before she turned on her heels and almost ran back down the corridor. That image was enough to help you wake up from the daze. Gently you disentangled from Neil, who looked confused. Despite the reality of the situation downing on you, you grinned seeing his ruffled hair and disoriented gaze.

“Well done, now Anna hates me” you warily eyed the corridor before settling your eyes on him again.

You watched as he slowly absorbed the information, frowned, and then brightened up again when he met your gaze.

“Pretty sure she did already” he eyed you carefully as though assessing the state he brought you to.

Conscious of how you looked, you smoothed your hair and patted your blazed cheeks. There was no pretending that nothing happened, even if you wanted to.

“Why?” you arched your eyebrow at the implication.

“You know why” he just smiled as though it explained everything.

You didn’t know why. At all. You watched as he ruffled his hair even further by combing a hand through it, and your eyes settled on the exposed forearm and rolled up sleeves. For some reason seeing him like that was very thought-provoking. You knew he caught your stare when you heard him chuckle.

“Like what you see?” it was that smug smirk again.

You could not help but roll your eyes at him. This time the voice of reason was not so easily ignored.

“We really should talk before…” you did not even want to finish the sentence.

“Before?” Neil took a step closer again.

“Before we do something much more reckless than… this” you gestured vaguely and took a step back.

“Would that really be so bad?” he bit his lip and eyed you curiously again.

You have had enough. Placing a hand on his chest, you pushed him back. That clearly surprised him.

“Let’s just talk. Please” you put on your best puppy eyes just for him.

That did the job. Thankfully.

“Couldn’t say no to that” he grinned and took your hand in his “C’mon”

Now you just had to figure out what to tell him. The only issue was that you had no idea about how you felt… Fun.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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primasveraas-writing · 4 years ago

Text

And In Darkness, I Stand- Chapter 4

Kallus' leg is never quite the same after Bahryn. But then again, neither is he.

1 2 3 4 5

4. Yavin IV

“Captain Kallus.”

Kallus turns the best he can, gripping the handle of his cane as he does. Zeb is making his way over, his tall frame parting the flow of traffic in the hall.

“Kal,” Zeb amends with a smile, brushing a hand against the small of Kallus’ back. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Kallus nods, and grimaces. “I don't suppose I can use my position to get out of physical therapy?”

“No. I’ll still carry you there myself if I have to.”

Heat flames across Kallus’ cheek, but there’s nothing he can say to defend himself. His daily routine has been centered around his recovery for weeks, despite his protestations. On his first day back, he reported to Command for an extra few hours rather than going to the medbay, which caused a small uproar among the likes of Hera and Zeb. The resulting situation was a lecture from Zeb and the entire medical staff, as well as a warning from Command as to where his priorities should lie.

But aside from the initial excitement, Kallus has settled in quite well. He has his own post and a small command to his name. He’s been forgiven by the Rebels in an official capacity, and has learned when to ignore the snide comments made by his less-forgiving compatriots. For the most part, his job is normal and steady- he’s in the company of fellow spies most of the time, but everyone on Yavin is well acquainted with danger, regardless of their roles within the Rebellion. He nearly fits in.

It would be better if he were not so limited by his physical ability. He cannot stand on his leg unsupported, so he has been using a cane constantly, save for a few small excursions across his quarters, which, so far, have been painful and short-lived.

Suddenly, Kallus is bad at keeping himself out of trouble, between his efforts to heal and his apparently lacking self-care habits. This is yet another change he attributes to rebel influence, but he rather likes it, even if he is adjusting to this new life slowly.

“You’re improving and you’re not going to stop now,” Zeb growls. He may as well be threatening Kallus, who minds this fact very little. His hand tightens on his cane.

“I know,” Kallus breathes, and drops his gaze. His next step forward is slightly unsteady, but he’s overly aware of Zeb watching him closely and that his friend is fully prepared to catch him should he trip.

Kallus hasn’t fallen in weeks. He can make it all the way across base without needing to rest now. The medics say the fracture is largely healed, and he thinks he must have made some kind of progress over the last few weeks.

“Are you coming with me?” Kallus tries not to sound too hopeful or excited; Zeb usually accompanies him to the medcenter for checkups and therapy, if only to ensure that Kallus himself actually attends.

“Of course.” Zeb glances at him. “‘Til you say you don’t want me there.”

“I do,” Kallus affirms, too quickly, and tries to discern if he’s blushing again. His face still feels hot.

They make their way down to the medcenter, where the staff greets him and Zeb both by name. The journey takes longer than he’d like, and Kallus tries not to count how many people pass him. It’s mid-afternoon by then, and his leg has started to twinge, although he turns away from Zeb and bites the inside of his cheek to get through the moments of pain.

Zeb steadies him as he strips off his jacket and boots, clutching Kallus’ left elbow. Kallus shoots him a grateful smile. He wobbles on one leg, unsteady, and he knows he will not fall.

“Ready?”

It’s not Zeb who asks, but a nurse. Cida Amada, who was one of the first people he got to know during his stay in the medcenter. She barely looks old enough to have such responsibility, with her shy smiles and soft tones, but she and Kallus took a liking to each other. They made each other cry, he lost in frustration and agony, and she hurt after discovering his tendency to yell and swear when in crippling pain. Yet once he had apologized, their relationship improved, and Amada became his primary caretaker, which most predominantly includes cajoling him into showing up for his appointments.

She and Zeb seem to adore each other for this fact. Kallus can only pretend he hates it so much.

He nods, his mouth suddenly dry, and she reaches out to take his hand. He lets her, and Cida smiles at him, not meeting his eyes for more than a few seconds.

“It’ll feel better later even if it’s uncomfortable right now, Alexsandr. How have the last few rotations been?”

She is gentle and kind. Forgiving, too, which is the strangest of offerings he’s even been gifted in his life. Kallus mostly expected to be dead by now, rather than guided through a half-stocked medbay by a medic exclusively trained by war doctors. Cida genuinely likes him, too, which is odd. Both Hera and Zeb had to assure him of this fact, though Kallus is sure she wouldn’t be capable of pretending otherwise. He first had doubts about the girl’s abilities as a liar since she apologized for taking a blood sample from him. She is too good to lie, which, he supposes, is why he’s a former Imperial-turned-spy, and she is a rebel war doctor.

Cida stretches his legs and guides him through a few exercises that should be simple but prove exceedingly difficult for Kallus. He has to touch his toes. Climb stairs. Walk 2 meters with support on either side. He grits his teeth and sweats through it, mumbling curses that Cida and Zeb pretend not to hear when he inevitably falters.

His hands shake for an hour afterward. Kallus showers and lies on his bunk, exhausted.

His leg feels better than it did before.

Had he stayed with the Empire, Kallus would have received higher quality medical care.

He might not be stuck with a limp and a cane.

First, he would have needed to swallow his damned pride and ask for treatment, and then the initial break would not have affected him for the rest of his life. The Imperial meddroids would have returned him to normal in a matter of days, if not weeks, and Thrawn would have never rebroken the leg, even if Kallus had pursued life as Fulcrum. The Empire is equipped with better resources and better training.

But he didn’t ask for help, not upon his return from Bahryn nor any of the painful days after. Konstantine didn’t even look up at him. If anyone noticed he was uncomfortable or weaker, they politely looked away and saved that topic of discussion for when his back was turned. Kallus was alone in caring for himself, and it was thus unimportant to everyone in the Empire, including him. He adopted the same attitude regarding his own health.

Hera had caught him when he collapsed, after Atollon. Cida cried when he cried because she hated seeing him in pain. Zeb has been there for him in more ways than he can count.

Sometimes, Zeb calls him Alex. He hasn’t had that nickname since he was a little boy- his parents never bothered with it and he had few friends by the time he entered the Imperial Academy.

Zeb is the only one, in his entire life, who has called him Kal.

That’s yet another thing they share. Kallus has gleamed that Zeb never fully revealed the truth of what happened on Bahryn, even to the rest of the Ghost crew.

He does not know what would be enough to repay the Rebels. They have so little, yet they give to him, in time and effort and supplies and trust. It would be more just if these things were diverted to another, not to a formal Imperial, but they will not let him refuse their generosity.

Kallus would give his life for these people. For Zeb and the Spectres, certainly, but for those he does not know, too. For the ones who hurl dirty looks and harsh words at him in the mess and hallways, for Cida, for the other Fulcrums, for every rebel on Yavin and the galaxy beyond.

His life would not be enough, when they are the very people who have given it back to him. Kallus’ life is marred and stained and broken. He can offer the rebels service and secrets and loyalty, and he will do all he can to see them to victory.

He wonders about that, too. He would be more confident about winning the war were he still an Imperial agent. He is a man of facts and logic, and he knows that the odds are against the rebels to prevail over the Empire.

But he believes in the rebels. Kallus believes in their cause and their people. That alone has carried them further than Kallus ever predicted.

He would give his life for them without thinking. He gives his hope and keeps his doubt and his cynicism, heavy as they are, so that they do not burden those like Pica and Leia Organa and Ezra Bridger.

Even as a rebel, being a spy still demands a certain mindset of coldness and hardness. Kallus is learning mercy, and he is learning how mercy does and doesn’t fit into his role. Draven has told him more than once that they serve the cause of the Rebellion, not its people.

Kallus is not sure he agrees. Draven has the end of the war in sight, and that is what grants Kallus peace of mind while the familiarity of Draven’s words nags at him.

Draven has also told Kallus that he is still useful, despite his leg. The General had looked at Kallus with pity while he had said it. Kallus will prove him wrong, and his heart sings with a small amount of pride with the knowledge of the difference he has made already under and to Draven’s command.

Kallus is trying to be good in his new role. He is also trying to become someone worthy of the friendship and care that the rebels have shown him.

He wants to be accepted by them. He wants to be their friend.

“Alexsandr!”

The use of his full first name startles him, nearly as much as the alarm in Zeb’s voice does. Zeb is staring at him from across the hangar, Hera by his size. The droid, Chopper, makes some obscene noise that Kallus can only assume is scolding.

The trio is at his side quickly, and Kallus grunts as he loads the shipment onto the shuttle.

“I can do that,” Hera says. She sounds mildly scandalized, and she takes the box from his hands. Chopper wags his mechanical arm at Kallus, and emits a horrifying cackle at the indignation on his face.

“No cane?” Zeb sounds surprised, but Kallus has had a good few days. He’s permitted not to use it for short amounts of time, given that his leg doesn’t start hurting. He and Cida are hoping that this will become the norm, that he will only need his cane some days. Kallus has floated the idea of field missions once or twice already, but he’ll push for more unsupervised walking first.

“Not for a while.” It’s nearly strange not to have the cane in his hand, but he’s been making good use of his free hands for a while. Then: “General, I assure you I am very capable of doing that.”

Kallus tries to take the next box from Hera, who passes to Zeb. In turn, he holds the box over their heads, then sets it in the shuttle.

“You could hurt yourself,” Hera chides. “Let us help you.”

“Lifting a few crates will hardly send me into critical condition,” Kallus protests, but the words are weakened when Hera glares at him. Chopper laughs again. “My leg is injured, not my arms.”

“No extra weight,” Zeb reminds him, taking another box from Hera. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“It’s just-”

“We’re happy to help,” Hera interrupts. She exchanges a look with Zeb, and Kallus bites back a retort. He’s perfectly capable.

The next time he sees Cida, Kallus is sure to mention lightening the restrictions on his carrying weight. She’s willing to negotiate, at the very least, and they argue until it’s agreed that Kallus can lift, but not carry, a few kilos. He’s sure to complain very little for the rest of the session, and the nurse sends him away with a smile at the end of the day.

She tells him he’s making progress; a statement constantly echoed by Zeb. Physical therapy becomes easier and less frequent; he’s fully adjusted to using his cane, although he has started to go many days without it. At first, it’s painful- he can only endure the day without his cane if he stays in Command, but then weeks pass and he can move around base on his own. He’s outfitted with temporary mechanical braces, and he goes on his first field mission as a rebel.

The days are not bad, and the initial mission goes smoothly, as do all the ones after that.

When night falls after he returns, Kallus can barely stand, and the pain reduces him mostly immobile.

Cida worms this fact out of him after he spends two rotations chasing down a rogue informant. He had been late to see her, and stiff and quiet during their appointment.

“You’ll make it worse,” she warns him. His leg has been swelling, too. “Too much at once will only hurt you.”

“I’m useful out there,” Kallus insists, staring at his injured leg. It would be a waste if he remained on base all the time. “If I can get stronger, then I can fight.”

Cida sighs, her eyes full of worry. Kallus looks away, his heart poisoned with guilt. “If you keep doing this, you may last a few months or a cycle. After that, you could spend the rest of your life walking with pain and assistance.”

He nods once. That’s as much time as he needs, regardless of what follows.

Kallus has greater potential than what his leg allows. He could be one of the best ground fighters on base, if his body worked right.

“Does your leg hurt?”

Kallus grunts. “My leg always hurts.” He shifts, moving his lower body as little as possible, but Zeb moves into his full view a moment later.

“You shoulda said something on way back-”

“I’m fine, Zeb.”

“Your cane-”

“It hurts with or without the cane,” Kallus snaps, then averts his eyes. Zeb’s ears flatten, and Kallus’ stomach flips.

“Are you gonna use it now?” Zeb asks quietly. They still don’t look at each other.

Kallus reaches for the offending object and thumps it against the ground. “Yes,” he mutters. That’s the only reason he got here, in some dirty corner of the base. The cane saw him back from the medbay and into the spot where he had chosen to sulk.

Apparently, the covert location wasn’t quite private enough. That, or Zeb knows him too well, because he seems to have sought Kallus out with ease. But here he is, sitting on the floor with Kallus and watching the rest of the Rebellion walk by, totally oblivious to their discussion.

“Today is a bad day,” Kallus says. That’s how he measures time- in good days and bad ones. “I’ve been having a lot of those, recently.”

“You’ve been working hard.”

“I want to go back to normal,” Kallus mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’m sick of being weak. I’m tired.” He smiles at Zeb, his lips thin and pursed. “I’m done.”

“Alex.” Zeb is imploring.”How could you think you’re weak?”

“Because I can’t walk down the damned hallway!” Kallus scoffs. “Because I have gone through all this suffering and I am not better! And all I wish is that it would end!”

“That makes you weak, does it?”

“It doesn’t make me strong, Garazeb. Not the way you think I am.”

The Lasat next to him snorts. “Kal, I have seen you walk through hell and back-”

“That doesn’t make-”

“- I know how strong you are,” Zeb finishes, talking over him. “Do you trust me?”

Kallus blanches, his heart pounding. “Of course.”

“Then believe me when I say you’re strong.”

“I’ve never seen it that way.”

The words are nearly inaudible. It’s a shamefaced confession, and Zeb stares at him with wide eyes, taking both of Alexsandr’s hands in his.

“Just because I survived doesn’t mean I’m a martyr, Zeb. Or some inspiration to look up to.”

“That’s half of one of the many reasons I care for you,” Zeb whispers, his voice so, so low. “Not because you’ve managed to survive, but because of how determined you are. It’s the stupid face you make when you’re concentrating and the way your voice gets all high when you tell me about how fine and capable you are.” Zeb chuckles, and Kallus is very acutely aware that Zeb is sitting so close to him that their thighs are touching. “You’ve always been so damn stubborn.”

“You like that about me?” Some alarmed voice in Alexsandr’s head warns him that this is barely tangential to the topic at hand.

“Yeah.” Zeb’s ears twitch, and he drops his eyes from Kallus’ wondrous stare. “Even if it pisses me off.”

“I know it does.”

“Yeah,” Zeb growls, then he deflates as he sighs. “I’ve always known that about you. Even when you were trying to kill me.” He gestures to Kallus, to his brace and cane. “Seeing you recover is another way you’re proving this to me. Your absurd relentlessness. And your strength.” He glowers at Kallus when he says the last word, as if daring him to object. “You’ve always had that.”

“Someone better would have handled it with grace.”

“Maybe.” Zeb shrugs. “You’re tough, not a saint.”

“Thank you, Garazeb.”

Zeb rolls his eyes, shoving against Kallus’ shoulder gently. “Whatever.” He clears his throat. “Maybe all this made you stronger. I don’t care if you get back to normal, or whatever you’ve dreamed up for yourself. I only want you to be happy with where you were.”

“And go to physical therapy.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“Right.”

Zeb grins. “By the way, if you didn’t want the hurt from your serious injury to go away, then you’re twice as big of an idiot as I thought you were. I have no idea what else you expected.”

“I expected for it to last a few weeks. Not the rest of my life.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wishing for that.” Zeb looks up at the trees, and Kallus thinks of a burning world, razed to the ground by the Empire. Zeb didn’t come away from Lasan unscathed, he knows. “Whatever happens though, here you are, Kal. Even if all you’ve done is survive.”

Alexsandr reaches out for Zeb’s hand, and his friend takes it. Zeb’s words are muddled with affection and friendship and respect. The person Zeb describes sounds like someone Kallus can appreciate. Somebody with an iron will and a conviction for the right kind of things. Somebody worthy of love

That night, Kallus cannot rest. He wanders the halls, on a dreadfully familiar path- the one Zeb takes him on when Kallus has to stretch out his leg. His feet carry him into the cool night air, his cane thumping against the stone after every uneven step.

Kallus searches for privacy, but he cannot make it far outside the base. There are still lights blinking from the hangars and a quiet bustle of nightlife shows that the base is still busy, but Kallus staggers along as far as he can and settles on a log under the cover of some trees.

“Can’t sleep?”

Alexsandr jumps, then he squints in the dark. Some 30 feet away is Kanan Jarrus, sitting on the forest floor with his legs folded beneath him. He appears to be meditating; his shoulder pauldrons and mask are off, and he sounds relaxed.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Kallus calls. He fumbles with his cane and readies himself to stand; he’s still slightly out of breath and now he has nowhere to go.

“No.” Kanan stands instead and approaches Kallus, nimbly stepping over branches and rocks. Kallus stares up at the blind Jedi, then averts his gaze when Kanan takes a seat next to him.

They sit together in silence. Kallus doesn’t mind the company very much; he fiddles with his hands and does his best to ignore the aching in his leg.

“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” Kanan says finally. He turns to Kallus expectantly.

Kallus gives a nervous chuckle. “What is?”

“Healing.” Kanan opens his hands as if he’s referring to the whole jungle, instead. “Even with the people who love you at your side.”

Kallus opens his mouth to protest- he’s not sure who loves him, even if a few people come to mind- but the depth of Kanan’s words hit him a moment later.

“I don’t-” Kallus struggles for the right words. “I don’t believe I’m alone.”

Kanan nods slowly. “I had Hera with me every step of the way. She’s the most understanding, caring person I know.” Then, Kanan shrugs. “But it was impossible for her to understand what it was like, no matter how hard she tried. It was lonely.”

“Yes,” Kallus says slowly, exhaling. “Even- even-”

“Zeb doesn’t understand?” He can hear the humor in Kanan’s voice, although Kallus cannot piece together why Kanan would be amused. “I think that’d be impossible unless he’d been through it, too.”

“Do you know anyone who did?”

Kanan shakes his head. “Not quite.” He smiles, and again, Kallus can’t comprehend why. “I had to find solace in other places.”

“Do you think you’re on the other side?”

“Of recovery?” Kallus inclines his head. “Yes. It’s different now.” Kanan’s smile becomes wistful. “But there’s no going back.”

“You made it through.”

“I did. And you will too. In time.”

“I want it to be over.” The confession falls from Kallus’ lips before he can help it. “I’m so tired of being in pain.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think it will ever pass.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then…” Kallus sighs. “Then I move forward with it, anyway.”

There’s no other choice. He will stay with the rebels until the end, and he will do so however he can. He could lose his leg tonight or he could wake up entirely healed tomorrow morning. Either way, there will be little change to his plans.

“I thought you’d say that.” Kanan rests his hand on Kallus’ knee. “It gets easier.”

“I know.” It has already. Maybe Zeb is right. Maybe he is strong because of what he has survived, and maybe there’s truth to Kanan’s words, too.

“I think you’ll find someone who makes it less lonely. I believe you’ll find yourself on the other side.”

Kallus bows his head in acknowledgment, suddenly exhausted. “Zeb will be yours again, once we get back from Lothal.” Kanan’s seriousness disappears, and Kallus knows the moment has passed. He can’t help that the corners of his lips are quirking up, and Kanan seems to both know and enjoy this fact.

“You leave soon?” The thought is bittersweet; the Lothal rebels returning home again, and Zeb will leave his side.

“Three rotations.” Kanan answers. His tone has become heavy again, but the Jedi does not sound afraid.

“I wish you luck.”

The earliest sign of civilization is a healed femur.

#kalluzeb #kalluzeb fanfic #swr #rebels #kallus x zeb #alexsandr kallus #kallus #agent kallus #star wars #star wars fanfic #sw rebels #rebels fanfic #star wars rebels #SWR fanfic #star wars rebels fanfiction #kalluzeb fanfiction #kalluzeb imagine #kalluzeb headcanons #and in darkness i stand

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themaddruid17 · 3 years ago

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💜 Depression & Anxiety Life Tips 💜

Depression, and anxiety are best friends. They often show up together, and slowly destroy you in tandem. Anxiety is the first to start usually. Anxiety is natural part of us, but it's more like a weed. Take a dandelion, it has benefits, but too much of it and it will choke out everything.

What do you need to do though? You need to keep your anxiety in check. How? Read these tips to learn how I've gone from debilitating anxiety to moderate and still fighting. I've been in 8yrs of government therapy so far. (CBT, DBT, EMDR..etc)

1.) Your anxiety comes from when you step outside of the safety box. If you have a small box, you will get anxiety more often, you need to slowly work on expanding that comfort zone.

When something is making you nervous, take deep breaths and tell yourself just keep doing it. I know that sounds easier said than done but, I've been working hard on it and it does work. Sometimes I'll shout out loud "Just push through it, don't stop keep doing it me!" And long as I push through it'll work.

2.) It's okay to fail or be mediocre at something. It took a long time to accept this but failing is part of learning. It's learning a way not to do something, it's getting experience to get you to that final level. Do you play a video game sad you don't start at 100? Hopefully not. It's part of the fun.

To encourage yourself take photos or keep your projects to remind you of how far you've come. And secondly don't compare yourself to someone else. You are them and that's what makes you special. Do things for yourself, not to compete with others cause if you go through life chasing to be as good as someone else you'll miss out on how good you are. Everyone is unique and that should be embraced.

3.) Take care of yourself! Silly I know but water, food, sleep, exercise. Drink water, not anything with sugar or caffeine that actually dehydrates you. Specially first thing in the morning, because you usually wake up slightly dehydrated which is why you feel that groggy feeling. It's because you lose a lot of moisture over night through sweating, breathing and filling your bladder.

Eat atleast 1,000 calorie meal a day. It's okay to struggle to eat, eat anything over nothing. It's better to eat junk food than no food.

Sleep hygiene is important, specially if you have insomnia. Set a routine before bed of good sleep hygiene. No electronics 2 hrs before bed, no food, start to let your body shut down. I'll help your sleep out so much. Which in turn will help yourself out.

4.) Go slow and small. It's better to go slow and small than to quick and feel like things aren't working. Start with one small thing and when that feels good and is routine, wait another week or so, then add another thing. Going slow is good because it reinforces it in the brain. Gets those myelin bridges built! It takes roughly 21 days to get into a habit of doing it daily.

5.) Journalling. It allowed me to go back to my depression phases and see how bad I was and where I needed to improve. It's been an invaluable tool for me. Journal before bed. Add it into your nightly routine.

6th and last.

💜 I am always here if you need someone. Ive been through hell and back and don't judge. Honest to god's nothing you say could scare me away. If ppl can hate for no reason, I can love for no reason. Druid loves you 💜 Take care

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crystalstar8 · 4 years ago

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Knights of the Night (ch 19)

Chapter 19

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,012

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2 @zobadak @fallenstar-7

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

When Jimin finally awoke, he was met with a set of big blue eyes staring back at him. He gasped and tried to get away, but the action made his head ache something awful. He held his head in his hands and glanced up. There was a little boy sitting beside his bed staring at him…no. Not his bed. This wasn’t his bed. This was a dingy cot in the corner of a tiny cement room. The little boy was staring at him with wide eyes. He had ahead full of dark, unkempt hair. He was pale and shivering.

“What’s your name?” the boy asked.

“Jimin,” he said. He wanted to panic, but that probably wasn’t the best thing to do right now, for the sake of the child and for the sake of his still throbbing head. “What’s your name?”

“Caleb,” the boy said.

“Do you know where we are, Caleb?” Jimin asked. Caleb shook his head. It was then that he noticed the needle in his arm. The needle was connected to a tube, which ran up to a blood bag on an IV pole. His heart sank. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“That’s a bad word,” said Caleb.

“Sometimes, a situation calls for bad words,” said Jimin. Caleb smiled.

“Yeah, this situation is pretty fucking bad,” he said. Jimin’s eyes widened.

“Just don’t say that around your parents,” said Jimin. The smile fell from Caleb’s face.

“I don’t think I’m gonna see my parents again,” said Caleb.

“Why would you say that?” Jimin asked, carefully peeling the tape off holding the needle down.

“I’m not stupid,” Caleb said, picking at his sweater. “My mom told me that there’s people out there who kidnap kids and sell them. And that’s why I have to be careful with strangers. I saw a ton of people come in here and talk about prices, and they tasted my blood. It’s so creepy! I already had two roommates before you got here. Both of them got sold right away. I bet you’ll be next. The Dracula guys like pretty people who are adults more than they like kids I guess.”

“They don’t like kids?” Jimin asked.

“No,” said Caleb. “Well, they said that my blood is really good ‘cause it’s clean. But they said that kids are too much to deal with. I guess it’s a good thing.”

“Probably is,” said Jimin. He slowly pulled the needle from his arm and then reached for Caleb’s arm. Caleb let him do the same with his needle.

“They’ll get mad,” said Caleb.

“We’ll put them back in in a few hours,” said Jimin. “How often do they come in?”

“Not very often. Like, twice a day to give us food and put the needle in or take it out,” said Caleb.

“We just won’t let them take too much from us,” said Jimin. “Besides, my friends know where I am. They should be coming to rescue us soon.”

“That’s presumptuous,” said Caleb.

“That’s a big word,” said Jimin.

Caleb shrugged and said, “I learned it from a book. I like to read. Do you like reading?”

“I used to,” said Jimin. “Now I’m too busy to read. I go to college, so I have a lot of homework and dance practice.”

“You dance?” Caleb asked. “My big sister is in dance class too.”

“Oh yeah? How old is your sister?” Jimin asked.

“She’s twelve,” said Caleb. “I’m eight. I miss her, even though she’s a jerk sometimes.”

“I’m sure she misses you too,” said Jimin. “You’ll see her again. Hopefully soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You actually showed up!” Makai shouted, standing up to greet them with open arms.

Yoongi led the way into the room, Catalina and Jungkook following behind.

“Yoongi is the best one for this role,” said Namjoon.

“Why? You’re the leader,” said Catalina. “I feel like they’d expect you to be the one going in.”

Yoongi chuckled and said, “Namjoon is too nervous. He can’t act his way out of a paper bag.”

“I…well yeah,” Namjoon said, not trying to defend himself. “I can’t act. Or lie.”

“So, to review,” said Jungkook. “We’re acting as Yoongi’s familiars. We’ll go in, buy Jimin, and then leave?”

“Right,” said Namjoon. “Nothing else happens that day. We’ll execute the second part of our plan another time.”

“I suppose I was curious,” said Yoongi, shaking Makai’s hand. Makai had that easy going smile on his face. It was disarming, Catalina needed to stay focused on hating the man.

It was nerve wracking, being able to just walk into the facility like this. Catalina had never felt this kind of adrenaline before. She tried her best to stay calm and regulate her breathing though. Namjoon warned them that vampires can basically smell fear. They can hear when a human’s heart beats faster and smell when their blood rushes quicker.

They were standing by the desk in the middle of the lounge-like space. This was the area Catalina and Jungkook saw when they snuck in.

“Are you looking to buy today?” Makai asked. “Or were you just in the neighborhood?”

“I’m not sure yet,” said Yoongi. “It depends on if you have anything I like.”

“I’ve got quite the variety,” said Makai. “And all our products are very high quality. All very healthy and clean.”

“That’s good to know,” said Yoongi. “Most of these kinds of organizations get their products off the streets, they’re usually riddled with drugs and diseases.”

Catalina chose not to think about why Yoongi knew that.

Makai chuckled and said, “I have to admit, we started our company like that. We’ve improved so much over the years though. Anyway, I can give you a tour. If you’d like, there’s a waiting room in the back where your familiars can stay.”

“No thank you,” said Yoongi. “I’d rather they stay with me. I don’t trust you just yet.”

“What’s not to trust about this face?” Makai asked, pouting a bit. He burst into laughter. “I’m totally joking. You have no reason to trust me, you barely know me! I hope we can be friends someday though. I like you, Yoongi.”

With that, Makai led the way deeper into the facility. The first door he opened made Catalina’s heart drop. The woman inside was limp and pale, sitting up against the wall on a cot. Her hair was thin and her lips were blue.

“We’ve had her for a while, so I would probably let you have her for a hundred if you’re interested,” said Makai. He closed the door and continued down the hall. He pointed at a room through a pair of archways and said, “That’s the recreation room. There’s snacks, if you guys want anything.”

“Chocolate?” Yoongi asked.

“Haha! Sure, let’s see,” said Makai. He went in and rummaged through the cupboards. Catalina hung back with Jungkook and took his hand. He squeezed her hand back, leaning in to whisper, “Are you okay?”

Catalina nodded, even though she was starting to feel queasy. Yoongi came back to them with a mouthful of Dove chocolate, more in his hand.

“Jungkook will have his phone in his shirt pocket, with the camera facing out. It’ll be recording the entire time,” said Namjoon. “This way, we can map out a basic floor plan.”

Catalina glanced at the phone in Jungkook’s shirt pocket as they were led deeper into the facility. Makai continued showing them “products”, as he called them. There were so many. Catalina didn’t know how she’d be able to leave them all here today. She hated thinking about Jimin in this situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jimin tried his best to keep track of the days, but without any outside light source and an irregular sleeping schedule, time quickly began to blur together. He had no idea how much time had passed. He what he could though.

He didn’t let the vampires take too much blood from him and Caleb, just enough so they wouldn’t notice a loss. He made sure he and Caleb ate everything they were given, to keep up their strength. Every few days, or so Jimin figured, they would have a break from being hooked up to the IV. During those days, they made sure to eat and move around as much as they could.

But after a while, everything began catching up to them. They were slowly losing energy. Jimin hoped his friends would find him soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing these people, tired and limp, and hearing Makai list off prices like they were at a car dealership made Catalina feel sick. She knew this kind of thing went on, but to see it with her own eyes was something she would never forget. She had to keep reminding herself that they would come back for these people.

“This one is a little feisty, but if you keep her drained, she should be fine,” said Makai, closing the door on another cell. “Did you see any you liked? Did you at least like the tour?”

Catalina’s stomach dropped. That couldn’t have been the last one. Where was Jimin? Did someone already buy him? It hasn’t even been a week!

Jungkook took her hand and squeezed hard.

“Do you have anything else?” Yoongi asked. His bored façade was still going strong, or maybe it wasn’t a façade. Catalina couldn’t be sure. Did he even actually care about these humans? Either way, he was doing a good job on this mission.

“I mean, we have other humans, but they’re not ready for purchase yet,” said Makai.

“I want to see them,” said Yoongi.

“Sure, were you looking for something in particular?” asked Makai.

“Eh…not exactly. I suppose I’ll know when I see it,” said Yoongi.

Makai pointed to him and said, “I totally understand. Ya know, it’s like buying clothes. Fashion trends change so fast and I never know what I want to buy for summer, or for winter or whatever. But when I see it, I know! Can you believe the early 2000’s are coming back? It just ended! Give it a break for a bit!”

Makai laughed heartily as he rambled on, leading them to a different hallway. He opened a few doors and introduced a few people inside. These people looked a little less tired than the others. These ones still had a bit of color in their cheeks.

The third door he opened was the one. Jimin stared back at them with wide eyes. The fear in his eyes melted away when he saw them. But there was another set of frightened eyes staring at them from over Jimin’s shoulder.

A child sat behind him, clutching Jimin’s t-shirt.

Yoongi faltered. He didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Is this the one? Are you having your moment?” Makai asked.

“How much for both?” Yoongi asked.

“Oh…well, the kid isn’t for sale,” Makai said.

“Ten thousand for the kid,” said Yoongi. “One thousand for the other guy.”

Catalina watched with amusement as Jimin pouted, glaring at Yoongi.

“Okay, so these guys aren’t really for sale right now,” said Makai. “So you’re gonna have to-“

“Fifty thousand for both,” said Yoongi. Makai closed his mouth.

“Ya know what, I like you Yoongi. So I’ll give them to you for fifty and a half,” said Makai.

“Deal,” said Yoongi. They shook hands, Makai smiling wide.

“I’m just warning you, this one’s squirrely,” Makai said, pointing to Jimin. “And the kid is too smart for his own good. So do with that what you will.”

“I have these guys,” Yoongi said, gesturing to Jungkook and Catalina. “I’ll be fine.”

“Right on, man!” Makai said, slapping Yoongi on the shoulder. “Let’s go to my office.”

Makai’s office was beautiful; the first thing Catalina noticed was the zen garden in the corner, bamboo shoots rising from the center. The whole office was dim, with stylish, plush furniture filling the space. The sound of running water brought Catalina’s attention to the black stone mini water fountain on the desk at the center of the room.

Makai went behind the desk and pulled out two forms.

“Are you paying cash or bitcoin?” Makai asked.

“What the hell is bitcoin?” Yoongi asked. Makai burst into laughter.

“Cash it is, then,” he said once he finished laughing. “Just go ahead and sign these for me real quick. This one is a nondisclosure agreement. Don’t go posting about this on social media and definitely don’t tell the cops!”

Makai laughed again, but Catalina didn’t find any of this funny. She wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

“And this one is just an agreement stating that once the transaction is complete, the product is nonrefundable and fully your responsibility,” Makai said. Yoongi signed both forms, then pulled several stacks of cash out of his jacket pocket. Catalina and Jungkook’s eyes bulged. He was just carrying all that in his pocket?, Catalina thought with a start.

Makai laughed and pointed at them. “Looks like your familiars are thinking the same thing I am. You’re gonna get robbed doing stuff like that, man! You’re stronger than the average guy, but vamps like cash too, ya know!”

“I don’t go shopping very often,” Yoongi said, counting out the stacks of bills.

“Clearly,” said Makai, double checking the cash, then storing it in one of the desk drawers. The two of them shook hands. “Do you want them delivered or do you want them right now?”

“I’m parked outside,” said Yoongi. “I can take them now.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Makai. “Just go ahead and wait outside, I’ll have someone bring them up.”

“Don’t damage them,” said Yoongi. “I like my products pristine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jimin and the child clinging to him stayed silent as they got into the car, all the way until Jungkook parked the car in the lot of a Popeye’s just outside of town. Then they all piled out of the car and Catalina and Jungkook immediately tackled Jimin in a tight hug. Yoongi climbed out of the car slowly, then helped the child out of the back seat.

“What’s your name kid?” Yoongi asked as Catalina and Jungkook fussed over Jimin.

“Caleb,” he said in a quiet voice.

“You’re safe now,” said Yoongi. “We’ll get you back to your parents.”

Caleb’s eyes widened.

The whole group of them went into the Popeye’s and ordered as much food as everyone wanted. Caleb squeezed into the booth with Jimin, the rest sitting on the other side.

“These are my friends I was telling you about,” said Jimin.

“Ooohhh,” Caleb said, eyeing all three of them as he munched on his fries.

“Are you guys hurt at all? What was it like in there?” Jungkook asked.

“I mean, it wasn’t even that bad,” said Jimin.

“Yeah! It wasn’t even that bad!” said Caleb.

“Okay, I mean, it sucked really bad, and it would have been worse if we got bought by someone else before you got there, but it worked out fine,” said Jimin.

“Yeah, the situation was pretty fucking bad!” Caleb said, giggling and dunking his chicken strips into too much sauce.

Catalina and Jungkook’s eyes widened. Jimin and Yoongi just laughed.

“Don’t say that in front of your parents,” said Jimin, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“I just can’t wait to see the look on Namjoon’s face when we bring a child home with us,” said Catalina. Yoongi groaned and put his head in his hands.

“Yeah, I can’t wait either,” he said, sounding like he could, in fact, wait.

20 notes · View notes

suekre · 4 years ago

Note

So ive followed you a VERY long time (like from the deviantart days lmao) and i only just realised that you were talking about ocd in that post. Just wanted to let you know that i have ocd as well and god it is exhausting and i know exactly how you feel! I finally start therapy for it in 2 weeks. Pls know that i love your art and you very much and appreciate everything you create and share with us. All the best!! X

Hey you, I know you! Thank you for coming to my inbox and sharing this with me, I appreciate that so much. :) I am SUPER happy for you that you are about to get the help you need, that is awesome. I wish I could have had it at the time!

(And oh boy, the good old deviantart days, haha! Always happy to have my longtime followers around! :D)

OCD is exhausting indeed. People who aren’t affected can’t imagine what a nightmare it is. I, personally, am more prone to intrusive thoughts than actual obsessive-compulsive behavior. When people hear „OCD“, they usually think of obsessive hand washing or „leaving out every black tile while walking through a kitchen“ or so, while it can manifest in other ways. I didn’t know back then. I just thought I was going completely crazy at the time. I think I mentioned my disorder at times but I never actually openly talked about my own experiences (where I come from, mental disorders are a big NO NO, because it’s all in your head, just pull yourself together, other people are ACTUALLY suffering, it’s just dumb thoughts, you just need to think positive, y’know).

I kinda feel like doing it now. Just to get it out, and also to occupy my brain and hands and hey, maybe someone else can pick this up and find themselves in my own experiences. I sure know how relieved I was when I found out I wasn’t alone with my what I thought was a ‚Very Weird, Unique and Niche Problem‘.

I gotta admit first - I’m doing much better nowadays. Even my worst days, as horrible as they may feel at the time, do in no way compare to the hell I went through in the second half of 2015. I have come a long way since my last (and so far worst... omg, oof, I hope there won’t be another) episode of intrusive thoughts. But, oh boy, was it intense. It was the absolute worst time of my life, ever. I’m not writing this to scare anyone. Anyone who is familiar with this, will know how bad it is and anyone who can’t relate at all won’t feel affected anyway and will maybe even think something along the lines of „What the fuck?!“. I get it. It DOES sound crazy.

I have always been an overthinker. I always needed more validation and reassurance than other people around me and for the longest time I had no idea why that was. It was usually subtle - always kinda there but never strong enough to actually affect my life in a negative way. I just felt off at times, and not always super good. But I was generally ok, I could always manage.

Until that one episode that changed my life forever. I know that sounds dramatic but, even though I am in a good place nowadays, it sure DID change my life. I was 31, I lived together with my then-boyfriend and I still remember the exact date. Friday, July 24th, 2015. I remember the exact moment when my entire mind collapsed. It’s so weird, it literally happened from one second to the other. I am not making this up to sound more dramatic, it was a matter of seconds.

I was on my way home after work and I felt… restless and stressed. It felt good to get off work (it was my first full time job and... it didn’t go well, to put it nicely) but I was no longer really looking forward to my week off, and our trip to our favorite Open Air the following week. I picked up some dinner on my way, I came home, and I saw my boyfriend in the middle of the living room, he was making some preparations for our upcoming trip. When I saw him, tall and handsome and smiling at me, I smiled back but inside I felt like crying. My smile was fake. Kissing him felt weird, and also fake. And all of a sudden, there it was. The life changing thought:

„I don’t love him anymore.“

A simple thought. I had weird thoughts before, like anyone does, but they never had any greater impact on me. This time, though, that one thought knocked me off my feet. Not literally, I had turned into a pillar of salt somehow. This was the Perfect Man Of My Dreams (at least that was what I thought back then). The man I wanted to spend my life with, the man who made me happy every day! How could that even be, how could I even think something like that?

I felt even more restless. I didn’t tell him, of course. When he asked how my day was, I put on my fake smile again and said it was okay. We ate our dinner (although I had instantly lost any appetite), and I kept looking at him and the thoughts... just kept coming back.

You don’t love him anymore. What if you don’t love him anymore?

On repeat. It was awful. I just couldn’t shake them off.

It’s the stress, I tried to tell myself. You’re overworked. It’ll be good, you just need some rest.

But I couldn’t relax. My heart was racing, my blood was pumping. I didn’t know what was going on. I begged him to leave his work undone and take me out for an after work drink and he agreed. All the time, the thoughts wouldn’t leave my mind. I didn’t want to think them, but they were merciless, they just kept coming back. I felt so helpless.

A few drinks later, I had calmed down a bit, at least so much that I could stand to look at my BFs face again without feeling guilty. There you go, I said to myself, not quite convinced, you’ll be good. It’s already wearing off. When we crawled into bed later, I was tired and relaxed (and tipsy) enough to sleep and convinced that this was just a little glitch, that things would be just fine in the morning.

When I woke up, I felt exhausted. My heart was racing... and the thoughts came back IMMEDIATELY.

You don’t love him anymore. You gotta leave him.

What. The. HELL!? Why are these thoughts still a thing? Why are they still there? Why do they keep coming back?

I kept trying to push them away but the more I tried, the more intense they became. As if they tried to spite me. I started losing focus on everything else around me, the world slowly started to blur. It was just Me And My Thoughts from here. I tried my best to hide my state, and I think I managed for a while, but I felt like a robot any time I talked to someone. When people would pick up on my confusion, I usually brushed their concerns off. It’s nothing, I’m good.

I mean... how do you even tell someone that you just. can’t. stop. thinking. about whether you still love your boyfriend or not? According to the world, that is something you “just feel and know” after all. Except that I didn’t. I had no clue. I couldn’t feel anything. But, according to the world, that was perfectly normal, too. “Honeymoon phase is over at some point, babe. That’s everyday life, you grow comfy, it’s no longer a flash of feelings every day, you know that. You guys have been together for a while after all, what did you expect?!” ... what I felt didn’t feel like comfy everyday life either, though. Comfy everday life shouldn’t come with high key anxiety, sleepless nights and a loss of appetite at any lived second. If that was comfy everyday life, I sure didn’t want it.

So, what do you do when you have no clue about something? Right! Google! Go and ask the world! “How do you know that you still love your partner?”, “Is the love gone?” ... I spent hours, DAYS doing that, but no answer I found was remotely statisfying (or maybe it was for a minute, but the reassurance never lasted long) and I felt that those articles didn’t actually understand what I was asking in first place. I would spend every day like that. Permanently asking myself the same questions, analyzing myself, testing if the Big Feels for the man had decided to come back... nah, not really. Maybe NOW? If I just look at him close enough?! ... maybe if I squint a little?! Fuck, still nothing! Niente! Nada! I am a horrible person, aaah!

(Our open air trip was an emotional disaster by the way, I felt horrible all the time, and the permanent rain didn’t help. -3/10, do not recommend).

If I had known at the time that I wouldn’t spend just a few days but (more or less) six months with this shit... oof. I was already exhausted after those few days.

Over the course of the next weeks I stopped eating almost entirely. I just couldn’t. This permanent tight anxiety knot in my stomach made me want to throw up at the mere thought of food. At my worst point I weighed 138 lbs (63 kg), at 6 ft 1 (1,85 m). I often joked about how I had almost reached runway model standard. I was sick, I was weak, I was scared, but I just couldn’t eat and the bits I DID force myself to eat were burned almost right away by my crippling anxiety. (I still have clothes from that time, and I sometimes beat myself up for no longer fitting into them before I remember that I should NEVER fit into them EVER again.)

Instead I smoked a pack a day. I hardly got any sleep and when I did, it wasn’t relaxing. Always in Fight and Flight mode. My body was at alert level any minute, any day. I’m still asking myself how it could be that I never actually... collapsed. I was always tired, exhausted and malnourished... I dunno, you tell me.

The thoughts never really disappeared. They kept coming back in all variations. You don’t love him anymore. You have to leave him. You may not want to, but you have to. You don’t love him. I had very few “good moments” in between but in those good moments, my mind was usually frantically looking for explanations and reasons behind all this. For ways to improve my relationship, to feel better about my boyfriend. I came up with the WEIRDEST shit. Almost every day I found something new that bothered me. One day he was a little boring. That’s it! We gotta go out more, do more stuff, that’ll change everything. ... aaah, no. Guess not. The next day, it was something else. The day after THAT, it was something entirely different again.

I was suddenly prone to making some HELLA weird impulsive decisions, too. „I gotta break off contact to that one person RIGHT now, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!“, “I gotta talk to my mom about THAT particular incident in my childhood right now, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!”, “I gotta make a trip to the mall JUST NOW, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!”… the decisions made total sense to me the second I made them, for about ten minutes at most, but the initial rush of relief started to fade again quickly and I frantically started looking for new solutions. Google was my best friend. I couldn’t go a day without googling exessively. Overthinking, pacing, googling. Any day, any hour awake. Over weeks. A few months even. My mind was constantly reeling. It was a bottomless pit.

I cannot put into words how exhausting that was. Sometimes the idea of throwing myself out of the next window seemed SO tempting, not because I wanted to die, but because I wanted the thoughts to stop tormenting me.

(I was out of regular therapy at the time, btw. I thought about calling my therapist about it but never did it. I felt isolated, I literally thought I had to do this all by myself.)

At some point, a few months into it, I somehow transferred to zombie mode. The thoughts became a little less intense over time. They were never gone but not quite as nagging anymore. But any time I wasn’t in alert mode, I felt just hollow instead. Sucked dry of any joy, of any emotion, of any sign of life. I just... functioned. Still tried to hide it. I dunno how well I did with that. Probably not at all well. I kept it all to myself, just because it felt that ridiculous. Tried to find excuses. “I’m just tired.”, “You know, there’s a lot going on in my head right now, but I’ll be good.” ... truth is that I don’t remember a whole lot of that time, it’s all blurry. There are just a few significant moments.

Such as that one evening, after work, when I left the building, made a few steps and stood five (or ten? fifteen??? who knows?! not me.) minutes on the spot, motionless, because I could no longer remember my way home.

I got fired from that job, by the way. I’m sure it was mostly due to low performance, I get it, but I can’t blame my poor state alone - they were also assholes.

Anyway.

I had, of course, never stopped the googling and one day, after hours of browsing any niche I hoped I hadn’t browsed yet, I somehow found a blog written by a young woman like me. The description tackled almost all of my thought patterns and I was blown. away. She asked herself the very same questions, with the very same twists, and... she even had a name for it.

ROCD. Relationship Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I cried for what felt like hours. Out of relief. There was a person in this world who knew exactly what I was going through. And she even had tips how to overcome it. It wasn’t the first time I had heard about OCD, but as it had never affected me in any way before (I, too, associated it with compulsive hand washing and tile jumping), I wouldn’t have thought of it. After doing my own intense research on the subject, a huge part of me and my life finally started making sense to me. Not much was known about ROCD at the time, but it kinda didn’t matter anyway. What mattered was the OCD part. The subject of the thoughts is entirely interchangable. It’s the chain of thoughts itself that has to be broken. Don’t focus on the relationship. Break the chain instead.

The internet also recommended exposure therapy but as therapy wasn’t an option at the time (weird German laws... regular health insurance covers only a limited amount of therapy lessons within a certain span of time and I had used mine up and there was no way I could pay myself), I decided to try it myself, the key points being:

* No more googling, no more reassurance. Learn to live with the uncertainty, learn to live with Not Knowing.

* Let the thoughts happen. Watch them pass by. They’re just thoughts, they can’t harm you. Don’t fight them, just recognize them and let them stay, they’ll get less scary over time.

* Focus on other things, as hard as it is. Try to occupy your mind and your body. Any minute you spend doing something else but brooding is a win.

It all sounded so very abstract at the time, but I was determined to give it a try. Oh gosh, was it hard. After months of emotional torment and getting used to unhealthy ways of coping, it was SO DAMN FUCKING HARD to NOT google. To NOT think. It felt like torment all over again. How was I supposed to just let the thought sit with me!? It was scary, I didn’t want it! Just ONE little peek, only a second, come ON! I won’t do it again after that?!

Oh god, it was the worst, it really was. Trying to break the chain while I was so desperate to save my relationship was terrible. I honestly don’t remember HOW I made it... but I made it. I somehow... clawed and bit my way out of it. I went right through the pain and made it. It’s not actually a linear process but there comes this point (and I know a few people I met on online platforms who would back me up on this) when you know the worst is over. You just know it. Things weren’t exactly good by the time the thoughts were history but I had reign over my own head again, I could actually SEE the world again, and that was worth everything plus my body weight in gold.

I’ll stop right here because the following months weren’t about my OCD anymore, but about figuring out needs, figuring out myself and what I wanted from life and this particular relationship and it’s not quite relevant and another story. (I DID love my ex-BF but it turned out he wasn’t at all good for me, I had ignored all the red flags for too long, and it didn’t take long after this for us to go separate ways)

I hated this particular time in my life while it lasted but I have learned and taken so much from it. It has changed my life in so many ways. I learned that things are never set in stone, not for anyone. That there will always be uncertain times on our ways. That change is always scary. That it’s okay to be scared. That staying in crappy situations for the sake of it isn’t always the right thing to do. Sometimes, doing the right thing (aka leaving a relationship that isn’t good for you) can make you sad. Love does not equal compatibility.

Looking back, I am - in a very bizarre and twisted way - grateful for the experience. It was an incredibly important lesson for me that taught me to be kinder to myself, to look out for myself and to listen to my own needs. That I should put myself first at times. For the first time of my life, I really got in touch with myself and my own emotions. I learned to understand them, I learned where they come from. I learned to cut myself slack at times.

The list goes on and on, but you get my drift. I know myself inside and out at this point. That wasn’t always the case. Not until 2016.

It still comes back at times. Not with such full force, but it keeps creeping back in, pretty much any time I have to deal with uncertainty in my life. Bad news at work, not hearing from a friend for a while that I’m dying to hear from (inevitably thinking that they MUST be mad at me) or when I spot a few symptoms of sickness that I’m not familiar with (I practically never get sick). Not Knowing What Will Happen drives me CRAZY. I hate uncertainty, I need my life to be stable and calm to fully function.

Now, in COVID times, it’s mostly the fear of suffering from an incurable disease. AGAIN. I’m familiar with that, too. I’m not even scared of catching the virus, I just fell right back into overthinking any symptom I have, even if it’s just a short pain in the neck or whatever (you know, things that one usually brushes off). When my life was busier, I was MUCH better at handling those thoughts. Most of the time, they didn’t even come up in first place. Sitting inside and avoiding contact 99,9% of all times, and having little to no actual distraction („reading/watching movies“ doesn’t help me personally, it does’t occupy my mind enough, I usually just stare right through the pages/screen), however, leaves FAR too much time for the thoughts to unfold, once they come up.

This subtle but lingering concern for my health puts my body into a permanent state of anxiety once more. Fight and Flight mode. The pace of my heartbeat is always slightly, but perpetually, increased. It isn’t always outright panic attacks, it’s this constant state of having to be… alert. Something MIGHT happen, y’know. Be prepared. Relaxing and doing nice things becomes almost impossible. Instead, I get tired and exhausted. Depressed, even. It sucks the joy right out of me. I feel like living under a glass dome. I see what’s happening around me but I am unable to connect, emotionally. People keep living their lives and I can watch them, but I can’t be a part of it. It’s a deeply crushing feeling. I manage to somehow function but I don’t really feel alive. My abandonment issues and fear of „getting left behind“ kicked in again, too. I want to catch up and take part but can’t so I stress myself over THAT, too. This only adds to the exhaustion and makes me feel even more isolated.

Hello, vicious circle, my old friend.

I didn’t even realize that I had such huge potential to fall right back into it. It all started… I dunno, by mid/end of January?? It’s a bit blurry this time. It is directly connected to Germany’s recent lockdown, though. A massive case of Not Knowing How Things Will Turn Out. I failed to take better care of myself in the past few weeks. And now I’m here. AGAIN. Ugh.

But well, as I said, it’s not as bad and, as I said, I have at least learned some important things over the years. In this particular case of intrusive thoughts, the first rule is: NEVER GOOGLE SYMPTOMS. And never google shit like „chances to survive (whatever illness think you have at the time)“, either. The mind longs for reassurance but googling symptoms is BAD, as we all know by now. It’s not even reassuring when you do it. Because you’ll inevitably end up diving through the vast internet for HOURS, picking up an entry that some person named Kevin made on a cancer forum way back in 2004, saying that his uncle died the next day after finding out he has cancer and that is, OF COURSE, what will happen to YOU, too. There is no other way. YOU WILL DIE.

Excuse the text walls. I took an opportunity to ramble about my own experience, for the first time ever since it happened (not including the few short talks I had with the few people I met on internet forums).

To anyone who made it this far: Thank you so much for reading. It sure felt good to write this down for once, even if it’s just a short summary (yes, really, I mean, we’re talking six-ish months here), and the descriptions fall woefully short. If anyone affected by the same happens to read this - I am so, SO sorry you are suffering so much. You are NOT alone and you are NOT weird. Talk to someone. Open up. To your doctor, or you therapist, if you have one. To a person you trust. It is the worst but there are ways, there is help. I wish I had known at the time it started for me.

You know now. :)

P.S.: DON’T FUCKING GOOGLE:

#ocd #rocd #obsessive compulsive disorder #relationship obsessive compulsive disorder #mental disorder #sanne rambles

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hilltopsunset · 3 years ago

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4 Ways to Breathe New Life into the Pokémon Franchise

I love the Pokémon franchise. It’s because I love it that I truly want new installments of the game to feel meaningful, to make an impact, and to provide players with something new, different, and worth coming back for without relying on complexities that could turn away new players.

As I will talk about in a later blog post, Game Freak seems afraid to stretch Pokémon’s creative muscles any further; meaningful innovation has been petering out since the end of Generation IV in lieu of minigames like Pokémon Contests and Super Training alongside inconsequential time sinks like Secret Bases and Poké Pelago. While I do enjoy the inclusion of things to do outside the main storyline, these additional events and sidequests should not be the only significant additions to new generations of main-series Pokémon games.

The main attractions of recent generations have provided slight twists to gameplay with the addition of mega evolution and Z-moves, but these changes don’t fundamentally change or challenge the way players experience the game on a moment-to-moment basis. And despite the graphical and processing power of recent gaming devices, and even the long-awaited shift of the franchise to a main console, we are still getting the same low-effort and outdated battle animations we’ve been seeing since X and Y. We are continually denied a more genuine battle experience with Pokémon physically interacting with each other through animations that more appropriately suit each Pokémon’s unique identity.

So what can be done? Here’s a short but detailed list of 4 things I would like to see in a new Pokémon game, in no particular order of importance.

1. Let the Player Character Be an Active Part of the Story

When has the player character ever been a consequential part of a Pokémon game? They never speak; they never have any personality whatsoever. They never experience any growth, regardless of NPC’s trying desperately to iterate how much the trainer has grown over the course of their journey. Certainly the Pokémon carried by the player character have some impact on the story, but the trainer?

Let them speak! Let the player character actually interact with NPCs in meaningful ways rather than just listening at all times. Give the trainer a personality of some sort. Don’t just slap a never-changing pleasant face onto the model regardless of tense, frightening, or sinister scenarios (I’m looking at you, Sun and Moon).

Giving the player character a more active role in the story provides intrigue—as a player, it doesn’t feel compelling being pulled from one place to another; it’s not interesting when the only thing pushing me forward is NPCs telling me I need to get the gym badges, or stop Team Rocket. It would be much more interesting if the Player Character had some imperative reason to pursue these endeavors, rather than get involved simply because “it’s the right thing to do” or, worse, “it’s the ONLY thing to do.” I want to watch the character I’m controlling grow as a person and make choices that have positive or negative consequences on people they care about and the places they visit, rather than be a perpetual observer of events with no real stake in the game.

2. Trainer Levels

Speaking of the player character, create a leveling system for them. There are so many possibilities for a system where the trainer more actively impacts gameplay. For instance, there could be a class system and each class can have unique skill trees that provide access to passive and/or active abilities that improve how the trainer interacts with the world throughout the game. It could be required to choose your path at the beginning of the game, or perhaps you can access them all throughout the game, but can only have one active at a time.

Here’s a list of example possibilities:

Explorer: The explorer class specializes in travel, as well as tracking and catching new Pokémon—this tree can be subdivided into those paths: Travel, Tracking, and Catching. This tree provides skills that assist them in accessing otherwise inaccessible locations, increasing encounter rates with rare Pokémon, and specializing in different types of Poké balls to improve catch chances. Experience for this class is gained through catching Pokémon, encountering rare Pokémon, and exploring (walking in new places, finding treasure, accessing hidden areas, etc.).

Combatant: The combatant class excels at offensive battle prowess through its three branches: Type Affinity, Commands, and Reputation. This tree allows a trainer to specialize in certain Pokémon types (up to 2) to improve their STAB damage. Eventually, you can get a skill that provides STAB for your specialized types even for Pokémon not of those types! You gain access to in-battle shout commands that provide momentary buffs to your party, like improving damage, resisting a big attack, or improving critical hit ratio. A strong reputation will allow you to avoid battle even with trainers who have caught your eye; and in battle, an enemy Pokémon may flinch due to your intimidating presence. Experience is gained by knocking out Pokémon, winning battles, using moves of your type specialization, and issuing commands.

Breeder: The breeder focuses on developing deep relationships with their Pokémon. Skills of this class can be divided into the Breeding, Bonding, and Healing branches. Through this tree, trainers can hatch eggs more quickly, improve high IV chance from newborn Pokémon, develop friendship levels more quickly, etc. Bonding provides Pokémon with beneficial defensive capabilities during battle, like providing a chance to survive an attack that would otherwise bring HP to 0, and having a strong will to resist abnormal status effects like paralysis and confusion. A Breeder’s knowledge of caretaking allows for healing outside of battle, and can even teach Pokémon how to slowly recover in-battle. Experience is gained through hatching eggs, developing friendships with your Pokémon (through feeding/petting, etc.), participating in Contests/minigames, and having Pokémon in your party with whom you have developed a close relationship.

The establishment of a class system like this, where experience is gained through different means relevant to each class, incentivizes players to participate in those aspects of the game, and provides extra rewards for players who already want to get involved. It makes the trainer feel like a relevant and impactful part of the team, rather than a hollow vehicle strictly used to lug the real heroes—your team of Pokémon—from battle to battle.

And for those who think the inclusion of such a mechanic would trivialize the content, I have several suggestions: first, they could easily make the game content more difficult to compensate. Second, they could mitigate the strength of these class skills during key battles like Gym Leaders, the Elite Four, the Enemy Team (Rocket, Galaxy, etc.). Third, NPCs (especially the aforementioned key NPCs) could have access to these skills as well. Remember, I’m asking for significant changes, and this would provide something new, interesting, and impactful.

3. Battle Animations

Update them. It’s that simple. Let Blastoise shoot water out of his water cannons rather than out of his face. Let Scorbunny run up to its opponent and give it a nice kick! Get rid of the old, outdated animations of a drawn foot—we now have well-rendered 3D monsters on gaming systems capable of handling the graphical processing necessary for this to happen. Give each Pokémon a more unique identity with their animations; make them feel like they’re actually in a battle with one another. It’s time.

I acknowledge that providing significant animation updates for the 800+ models is an enormous undertaking that would require a massive amount of time and manpower to make possible. To this I say: spend the time doing that rather than developing Dynamax or whatever. Spend the time on more significant animation development instead of wasting that time on another gimmick that isn’t going to significantly impact gameplay anyway.

To be honest, this point alone would be enough to convince me to buy a new Pokémon game.

4. Populate the World with Pokémon

I know that the Let’s Go series and Sword/Shield did this a little bit, and while it certainly wasn’t executed perfectly, it was fun running around and actually seeing all the Pokémon that inhabit it. Spawn rates in both games were often a bit too high, resulting in cluttered areas. Adding aggressive Pokémon would further enhance the immersive experience—being required to sneak around certain stronger Pokémon could be a really fun mechanic and provide tension; it was a bit too easy to avoid Pokémon in Let’s Go and in the Wild Area. While it was nice to get through Mt. Moon without encountering a single Zubat, imagine instead running through a section of the cave with a trail of 15 Zubats on your tail? Make me work for it a little!

Ultimately, I want to see Pokémon behaving more naturally in their habitats, and not just in sections of the world that I can’t get to. I want to run into a Caterpie hanging from a tree, or a Fearow fishing for Goldeen, or a Pikachu grooming itself. I want to interrupt Pokémon from their lives, not run into a giant gaggle of automatons circling tiny areas for no reason.

So there it is: a look at just a few things Pokémon games could include to make things more interesting and breathe new life into an aging franchise. These changes would require work, but any new game should—I would hate to see Pokémon continue the troubling trend of easy and/or insignificant content when there is so much potential to do so much with what they have.

With all that said, I do want to offer a bit of praise—Sirfetch’d and Galarian Ponyta are pretty awesome, and Galarian Weezing is perfectly ridiculous. But I ask that you keep in mind what your money is telling Game Freak when you purchase their games: it tells them that you don’t mind the severe lack of innovation and improvement. It tells them you don’t mind Scorbunny hopping in place as a giant, orange, human foot strikes its opponent. It tells them that you’re willing to fund their copy/paste animations from 6 years ago, their uninspired gameplay updates, and their ever-increasing focus on gimmicks and minigames.

As for me, I will continue holding Pokémon to a higher standard and hoping that, eventually, Blastoise will fire water from his cannons.

#pokemon #game review #game freak #hilltop sunset #suggestions

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