#this game is putting Lesions in my brain

[funishment-time]

V3 playing "New World Order" aka the Kyoko Savior Of The Universe theme at the most random times is THE toppest tier comic relief in this franchise. oh Kokichi getting choked out? oh Angie's corpse found? *kaede's dead body being slammed on a piano* DADADADADAUFGUFG DUH DUH DUHhhhhhhhhh

[aria-ashryver]

hiya darlings! health update below the cut

TW: cancer

so, further to my last health update - I've been on a break from my regular immune therapy treatment because it was causing heart failure, and I had just started a new course of medication to try and counteract this.

i've been monitoring my symptoms - my heart seems to have recovered a tiny bit, but I have been dealing with steadily worsening headaches since early September. Headaches are a known side effect of this particular medication, so I was just planning to bear it until my next scheduled oncology clinic.

here's where things have taken a turn. Part of my break period involved getting a heart scan, and a CT of my head, abdomen, and pelvis -> since I had paused my immune therapy, we had to check the cancer hadn't spread in the interim.

I got a call yesterday with my CT results. Unfortunately, it is showing multiple lesions in my brain. The headaches aren't a side effect of the meds like i thought. I have cancer again. In my brain.

uuuhhhhh, not good news, huh? :/

I don't know what the game plan is - im expecting a call tomorrow to tell me to get my ass to the hospital so I can talk to my oncologist and see just how bad things are, and how we are going to proceed with treatment.

It's likely I'll be doing radiation therapy, but I don't know much yet. They put me on an urgent course of steroids to reduce the swelling in my brain around the lesions, so with any luck, my headaches won't be so bad pretty soon! (Bc holy crap they have been bad. People don't warn you just how much cancer hurts, y'all. Not the treatments, the treatments are bad, yes, but the cancer itself, as it is growing. I'm reeeeaally looking forward to a little relief lol)

Anyway, sorry for the shit news!! My presence online will probably continue to be infrequent, but I'll make sure to post now and then to let you know I'm still alive lmao. WHICH I PLAN TO BE. I have kicked Caesar's ass once before, and I am planning to do it again this time too ✌️

sending you all my love,

aria

xx

[happymetalgirl]

Undeath - More Insane

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

Well in the spirit of dusting off this blog and scrubbing off some of the rust with some brief album reviewing, what better way to ease back in than with some simple, good ol' meat & potatoes death metal. This is the third album from old school Floridian death metal revivalists (from New York), Undeath!

Their 2020 debut album, Lesions of a Different Kind, instantly hooked a great many death-metalheads clearly hungry for the primal, groove-focused, hardcore-influenced stew of gory, straightforward death metal that Undeath was cooking, myself included. Though a subtle feature of their craft, I think the band's hardcore influence is what ultimately gave them the edge over the surrounding death metal crop with the dynamic punch of hardcore, and the surge of bands with similar influence like Frozen Soul, Gatecreeper, Sanguisugabogg, and 200 Stab Wounds represented, I think, a shift in the death metal landscape toward leaning into allyship with the meteoric rise of metallic hardcore thanks to bands like Code Orange, Harms Way, Kublai Khan, and especially Knocked Loose. Undeath's sophomore effort in 2022, It's Time...To Rise from the Grave, deviated basically not at all from the mission statement they'd put out two years prior, in style or quality, to the dismay of no one really.

More Insane finally does show a change of trajectory for Undeath as they showcase some technicality and finesse through some slightly more sophisticated composition as a break from the infectiously filthy, nonstop go-dumb approach. Nothing radical, but I think a fresh approach for the band relatively speaking, even if Cannibal Corpse worship or Bloodbath worship aren't exactly new in the death metal landscape broadly.

I actually was kind of disappointed by this album's playing into those over-played death metal compositional tropes on my initial listens to it because the shift of focus onto more intricate guitar passages and more ornate song structures does indeed kind of clash with the simple, no-nonsense, anti-overthinking approach that made Undeath's hooky and delicious pair of albums before More Insane such a breath of fresh air for death metal. And it was disappointing to hear what I first heard as being dragged into the muck of death metal by the mere gravitational pull of it simply to keep on schedule and put out an album. The more I listened, however, without the expectation of the same jungle-pit-opening death metal experience the band already kindly delivered twice, the more I came to appreciate the finer details of the arpeggiated melodic leads on "Sutured for War", the ripping speed of the drumming on "Cramped Caskets", the intricacy of the riffing on "Disattachment of a Prophylactic in the Brain", Alexander Jones' more expansive vocal technical prowess all across the album, and the more I came to appreciate More Insane as a finely crafted death metal album in a slightly different vein that showcases the instrumental talents Undeath has to offer without sacrificing too much of the hooky, meaty core of the band's primary compositional appeal, and definitely one of the year's most solid death metal records from a band who has, through both their consistency and boldness, definitely earned being trusted to try something different and to expand their sound in the future.

The strength of More Insane lies less in the brute force and hardcore-infused muscularity of their prior output and more in the band's practiced and meticulously honed technical abilities in death metal's foundational elements both in writing and playing. And with less of a lean-in to the novelty of the hardcore influence that colored the previous two albums, Undeath prove that they're not on top of the death metal game because of a gimmick or a trend, but because they know their shit, and they've got their shit together, and in that sense, More Insane is an even simpler display of their death metal supremacy than It's Time and Lesions.

8/10

[aevallare]

Hi! I'm stoked for all your writing, your stories' plots in particular are so good (which is something difficult to find in fanfics). Question/headcanon/observation: I noticed your Astarion is pretty smart. He has some wrinkles in that brain of his. He can think within a two days foreshadowing, which can't be said of the in game version. I adore how much of a dumbass he is in there (cue my OC getting head lesions for all the facepalming), but I also love how you gave his brain some ridges!

first of all, thank you so much. plot is my bread and butter but it's also So Fucking Scary to put out into the universe. i really appreciate it.

secondly, if i can be controversial for a second:

i know why we joke about astarion's smooth brain. i know the writer canonically called him a dumbass. i get all that. but i just cannot for the life of me believe that a man who has been through all of that wouldn't be capable of critical thinking. i know a lot of people buy into the nepotism theory for how he became a magistrate but i just... can't. hell, he hatches a plan to sleep with the MC to gain a shield for himself. it's self-preservation, sure, but it's also him planning ahead and trying to account for the worst possible outcomes.

it's funny when he's dumb. don't get me wrong! but i do think he's smarter than fandom often gives him credit for. in particular, i think he's got street smarts like you wouldn't believe. you don't survive cazador for two centuries without developing some, even if you didn't have them in the first place.

[canon-vi]

I tried to create her on January 3, but forgot...

--------------------------🦊----------------------------

Name: Anastasia

Name abbreviations (popular and frequently used): Nastya, Nastenka, Nastyukha, Asya

Age: 8-9

Height: 134

Birthday: April 30 (April 30) {it’s just that my friend Nastya was born on the same day—}

--------------------------🦊----------------------------

•

Asya has aphasia, to put it simply, she is mute, she became mute after the car accident

•

For conversations she always carries a notebook with a pen, she keeps this notebook in her bag

•

Nastya is a very tactile child, she loves hugs and physical contact, especially with her family

•

She has trouble sleeping and has nightmares, often involving an accident, so she goes to her parents' room for support from Merciless

•

She is patient with bullying, but at the same time vindictive, she remembers everyone who has offended her in some way and the “evil” comes back doubly, “there are devils in still waters,” she once doused a girl with boiling water, but that doesn’t matter—

•

Nastya has a personal diary, even 2, one where she writes everything good and leaves it where someone can find it, and the second about all her and not only terrible secrets, which she hides... But I won’t tell you where, what if someone find it? (under the floor)

•

Asya wants to become a programmer in the future and create her own game, wish her luck :3

•

Nastya loves all sorts of folk and pagan holidays, like Russian Maslenitsa, but who doesn’t like baking and eating pancakes for a week, and burning an effigy at the end of the week? It's fun and delicious!

Note:

— Aphasia is a local absence or disorder of already formed speech with impaired speech perception while maintaining hearing. It occurs with organic lesions of the speech parts of the cortex (and the “nearest subcortex” - as Luria puts it) of the brain as a result of injuries, tumors, strokes, inflammatory processes and some mental illnesses. Aphasia affects various forms of speech activity

— The name Anastasia has meanings: return to life, resurrection, rebirth

--------------------------🦊----------------------------

Dream:

" I don't know him, but the name sounds familiar, maybe I heard about him once? I don't know, I'm not sure "

Ink:

" Isn't this Aunt Drop's mom? I heard about her, Aunt Drop said that someday she would show me photographs of her! I can't wait for her to show it to me!! "

Cross:

" Grandpa cooks very tasty, I like to cook with him, and he is also strong and cool! I love it when he rides me on his neck! "

Hope:

" Mom and dad always spoke well of her, but grandpa shudders as soon as he hears her name, I would like to meet her :D "

Nightmare:

" Dad talks very little about him, but he definitely loves him, well, I think so "

Killer:

" Grandma Kill? Dad loves to talk about her, and I love to listen to his stories, sometimes dad says that I am very similar to her "

Merciless:

" Dad is the kindest and the best, it seems to me that he will support me, even if I need to kill and bury someone I love him :3 "

Lux:

" Mom says that I take after my dad in appearance and even in mind, which means she loves me just like dad: D I love my mom, I feel safe with her! But it’s very painful to see how sad mom is, I don’t want to leave her alone :( "

Pallete:

" Thief. "

Drop:

" Aunt Drop is cool, she creates games! When I grow up, I want to create games just like her! :D For some reason, aunt always carefully leaves us, I don’t understand why? "

Sunrise:

" If I hadn’t just stood and watched, that guy wouldn’t have taken her Sorry, Sun :( I miss her "

Moonrise:

" Brother Moon is very cute He often reminds me of Sunrise, I really try not to cry at such moments, but sometimes I fail :'( "

--------------------------🦊----------------------------

Fun fact: I decided to create Nastya when my friend with the same name was in the hospital with alcohol poisoning in a coma, ahah

--------------------------🦊----------------------------

E. L. A. by @anotherrosesthatfell

[lepertamar]

GAME REVIEW: GASSY CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE WEIRDO, RAGNAR, 20XX

[ed. note: A1 Reviews was hospitalised in the course of writing this review due to terrific brain lesions. What follows are his unedited and hysterical notes.]

1. Meaningless vermin experiences have potential to exist outside of the economy of sensation by which time is strategically invested in things so as to optimise profit in either enjoyment or knowledge; a process which transforms the raw matter of life / perception into a kind of uniform casino chip, worthwhile only as means to an end! Purposeless and scrappy things can only trade one kind of equivalently valueless experience for another and thus highlight being as an act in itself rather than a kind of empty space to be filled with other things.....

[.........]

6. Note #12: I am slowly drifting through the walls of the castle due to unspecified tileset errors.

7. Author’s statement for GCYOAW: “ [….]for some reason teleports teleport you into trees and water and stuff in Gassy Choose Your Own Adventure Weirdo so you need the No Clipping in Test Mode where you hold down ctrl. Also you need to set Switch 1003 to ON or you can’t explore the town.” What is Test Mode??????

8. Most ethics of vidcon design based on humanistic principles eg not wasting a person’s time or money, not being coercive. A hypothetical offshoot or degeneration would consist of not even daring to take up any of the player’s time, of tactfully assuming he or she has better things to be doing, building games presumed upon the natural disinterest or contempt of every possible audience - things not meant to be played, but if they should be, that would consist of trivial meaningless activity spaces for people to tinker with if they should so graciously deign while occupied with their own infinitely more important thoughts and emotions, like a philosophical conference hall which is also a jungle jim[sic?]. Nonlinear and nongoal oriented due to excessive modesty but also no real aesthetics as that would imply the submission of viewer -would just consist of vague presence moment-to-moment. Recall the quietists who thought that to make any change to the world was in some way to defy god.

Possible that such sect already exists, in abandoned angelfire.com ratnests and untagged tumblr pages, or working on Advanced Dumptruck Simulator 2013 in hyperspecialised german forums. How would we know?

I’m stuck in a dead-end game loop with excellent music.

9. found it very sensuel[sic] moving around as the saucer note don’t put this in review

10. Aiiiieee!!!! My brain!!!!

Gassy Choose Your Own Adventure Weirdo: 400 Stars

[ofdetonation]

hello! let me quickly run through some updates that have happened but i've neglected to mention. even if i ain't here, i may as well keep you informed - because once the bnha manga starts picking up again, i wanna be here.

putting it under a read more, bc it's all irl stuff. nonetheless, hope you all are holding up! it's been a real tough year jfc.

ms progression: so, six months on kesimpta (ofatumumab), still getting lesions popping up. from an mri on sept 4, had 3 new ones on the brain. hooray. progress seems to have slowed though, and sensory stuff hasn't been affected, so it's just brain stuff. makes sense, right?

family stuff: a close relative of mine is dipping in and out of hospital with treatment for something that's likely going to kill them before they're "cured". it's been pretty rough on the family, me included. it's been a long time coming but it still kinda sucks. another one's also jumping around doctors for issues, but that's less of the severe impending doom nature and more of the "oh well that's not good" nature.

trying to stay positive has been one hell of a task, but that's kind of why i've been deep diving into bg3 while not really interacting with people (see: maybe 2-3 people in a day). it's also why i haven't been on! keeping as sane as i can.

if you're still sticking around while i have all this going on, thank you! i haven't been active for ages, so i really appreciate it!

i really hope the bnha manga picks up (aka: bring back b.kg already i'm getting so sick of him being aliven't in this goddamn house), because i'd love to get really involved in the fandom and all! when i'm doing better, anyway. i'll hopefully come in with another update on my health in... a few weeks? recovery from lesions take way too goddamn long.

in the meantime: take a couple of screenshots from my current hyperfixation. deadass. i am (almost completely) unapologetic about how obsessed i am with this game, and i'll literally talk about it 24/7 365 rn.

oh, and a couple of my guardian in this playthrough. just bc i'm proud of her too.

[danilovesivars]

What now?

Time doesn’t make sense. The days are long and draining and yet I’m doing nothing.  It used to be filled with you. It took you forever to eat your meals (although I guess it’s because it was hard for you to do the work when your brain couldn’t get the messages through).  The house is quiet. You aren’t banging on your pots and pans in the play kitchen or throwing crayons off your table. Containers of play doh just sit there now. Not that you cared as much for the play doh as it was taking the lids on and off the containers. I went out with Miss Kelly, and Miss Amanda and Miss Cat yesterday then saw my friend Michelle. I cried to all of them.  Then I came home and felt lost again. There was still so much of the day left. I felt exhausted and sore all over my body. I took a nap. Napping isn’t right anymore either because I napped with you. If my hair was still in a pony, you’d reach your little hand under my neck and pull my hair towards you. So I made sure to put my hair down yesterday. I can’t even keep track of what day of the week it is. Nothing is comforting. I can’t figure out what to watch on TV. I could do some work but I can’t think up anything creative and it seems like too much mental effort. Reading is hard I’m too easily distracted by the silence. Since when does that make sense? I can’t even find a Twenty One Pilots song that helps. In some ways I guess that’s an okay thing because I would never wish this pain on anyone and to write something that would explain this you’d have to experience it. Which means I have to be the one to write it. And let me tell you Charlie, Mommy is not the writer Tyler Joseph is. I wish I could be. Music has often been a comfort to me. Now I’m pulling songs from Frozen because I don’t know where else to look.  You received a lot of Easter gifts - some stuffies and blankets and chocolates. Losing you on Easter Monday meant you never got to use them. You were like Mommy and were addicted to chocolate. We have so much chocolate now because you had to start every meal with a small piece. Weirdly enough though Mommy has lost interest in chocolate. I’ve had some but it doesn’t taste the same anymore.  I try to talk to you like you are here. I’d love to hear your voice though. You are supposed to be whole in Heaven now so in theory you may even be able to talk. You certainly understood what was being said to you. You did have some words at one point. If in Heaven those lesions are gone from your brain are you chatting up your grandmother? What does it sound like when you talk? I wish we knew Charlie. I wish we knew what you were going through so we could reduce the suffering a little bit. Everyone says it may be better that we didn’t. You experienced a lot - A Blue Jays game, Wonderland, Santa’s Village, Sauble Beach, Daycare - things we probably would have been too afraid to take you to if we knew. But I don’t forget your tired eyes and your sighs. I know now why and I wish I could have helped you through those moments. At least we think we know why. We are still awaiting the genetic testing to confirm it was Leigh’s. I don’t know how I’d feel if they came back still not sure of what it was. Today I’ve tried to do stuff. Daddy got me a new grief journal. Plus I had one I got another day. I tried to look at Disney Cruises. A little getaway. We had hoped to take you to Disney so I thought a cruise might be a nice alternative. I sent out more GoFundMe Thank you’s and but I couldn’t finish anything I set out to do. Somehow after trying all those things it was still only 2 something. That’s when we’d normally be napping. Riley then called home. She almost made it through the whole day. I don’t blame her I can’t get myself to do anything so why should I expect her to? Daddy described this as feeling almost like you’ve lost a limb. Mainly because you always were clinging to Daddy’s shoulder so he quite literally felt like he lost a limb. But I went on to agree because I was thinking something similar. When you lose a limb (modern technology aside) it doesn’t grow back. You can stitch up the area and it will heal up but the actual limb is gone forever. How you move forward in life is completely different. You have to learn to adapt without it. And most of your limbs are pretty important in your daily life. You don’t NEED them to be alive but they are important to your functioning.When they are gone you still can feel pains from where they were. You can still feel your brain try to use them and function as you did.  So we are still here. Trying to continue without an important piece of our family. Moving forward and learning to adapt but trying to accept that you won’t be coming back. We still feel the pain of losing you. We still anticipate seeing you in the hallway when we open the bathroom door, or pulling yourself up to stand by the couch when we are watching TV. I still think I hear your voice when you wake up from a nap then remember you aren't there.  I just don’t know what to do now.  

[corvidcrybaby]

aaawww thanks sm for the tag! I'm low on brain juice today so I'm just gonna tag @ofwraithsandwords

3.

  The two men entered an arching overpass, their feet clacking in muffled tones on the dark, smooth brick road beneath their feet. The sign overhead read “Josefov.” The old Jewish quarter of Prague.

 Or the Jewish ghetto, in less flattering terms.

Those coiling, tight passages weaving behind decrepit old buildings, many seeming as deserted as they were architecturally haphazard. Every cobblestone, down to the last errant pebble, strained to accommodate twice as much city as anywhere else the duo had ventured thus far. The wind murmured ominous dissonance through the arteries of alleyways clogged with fog, hanging heavy around the peaks of each and every leaning structure. Mansion or hovel, all choked with tightening wreaths of mist. Streetlights distorted to engorged, radiant spheres of light blazing from their centers, as the sun might behind a dense sheet of storm clouds. As though the city itself scowled at them.

(Lesions Of A Different Kind (Ch. 9), OC/Canon, Zemira/Alucard, this is a flashback sequence)

2.

Rabbi Loew meticulously studied the scene for a few quiet moments, taking in the empty silence and uncomfortable stillness thereof. The spotlight of his squeaking oil lantern cast itself about like stage lights. Then he nodded, sighed, and made for his bed, not sparing the window so much as a glance as he did.

“You’re behind the curtain,” Rabbi Loew said matter-of-factly. 

With a disappointed groan and the sibilating music of flying sand, Judah melded forth through the fabric, his greaves clanking down onto the floor as their owner crossed his muscular arms. Judah scowled at the elderly fellow with an expression equal parts dejected and exasperated. “How the hell do you keep doing that, old man?”

Rabbi Loew turned to him over his shoulder with an innocent smile that reached all the way up to the joy-worn crow’s feet at the edge of his eyes. Judah’s grousing seemed irrelevant to his ever-sunny temperament. He adjusted his spectacles in that idiosyncratic manner of his - middle finger and thumb, with the other fingers held up high, delicately. “It’s funny. You keep calling me that - despite the fact that you are, quite literally, four times my age.” 

Judah was tempted to chuckle, but not for long, as Rabbi Loew’s expression hardened in an instant. The vampire froze with his mouth still agape as the old man rounded on him.

“Moreover,” Rabbi Loew snapped, stomping over to Judah, waving a judgmental hand with an extended pointer right in his face. “What in G-d’s name is wrong with you?!”

Judah cocked an eyebrow, the side of his lip curling. With a spout of ghastly muttering, he turned away from Rabbi Loew and began to traipse about the bedchambers, busying himself by examining the operating table. A site of golemancy - many a maintenance session for Guard and certain other projects had taken place here. Judah, ever the cynic, pondered on how often the elderly Rabbi considered throwing him down onto that thing himself. The old man would no doubt deny it outright, but Judah wasn’t about to cast his chips on it. “Come on, rebbe. Selling me awful short here, don’t you think? The kid just got her world torn down around her - encouraging her to be soft won’t help her for jack shit.”

“Yehuda,” Rabbi Loew hissed, following him around the table, trying to catch the vampire’s gaze. A large hand came down on the Hammer’s armored shoulder with a clink of iron scales. “You know how I feel about these games you play with your descendants. It’s not your place to meddle with their destinies.”

“You say that, but you never stop me,” Judah growled, sliding his eyes over to Rabbi Loew’s own. Their golden glint matched his own crimson gaze. “You chide. You chastise. You swat me upside the head like I'm some delinquent child from time to time. But actually putting a damn foot down and stopping me yourself? Crickets.”

Rabbi Loew heaved a great sigh, removing his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, the other resting at his hip. The silver lion medallion jingled and swayed as its owner shifted. “I cannot be everywhere at once. You, on the other hand? You get around.”

“Getting déjà vu here,” Judah groused, stretching one arm and then the other, the action straining his voice - an impressive feat, given the scorched, scratchy tone of Judah’s boisterous baritone. “How many G-dforsaken times are you and I gonna have this chat?”

The old man did not answer for a solid few seconds, busying himself with adjusting valves and articulation points on his lantern. Then, with yet another exhausted sigh, he set it down with a hollow clank. He braced both of his large, wrinkled hands onto his workstation. A faded ink stain on his right hand matched the artisans’ mess before him. A hundred emotions ran through his features, his old skin with all its valleys shifting through just as many forms - all of them tinged with melancholy.

“I am far more tired of it than even you,” Rabbi Loew breathed.

(Lesions Of A Different Kind (Ch. 19), OC/Canon, Zemira/Alucard, this scene in particular an argument between two OC's)

Then Zemira bit off a cheeky smile, before it spread in all its lopsided glory beneath a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I don’t care how hooked on fucking me you are, you can't Corpse Bride my sorry ass, got it?”

Alucard made a choked sound, gawked at her, and then doubled over with a great eruption of thunderous laughter. With a large hand he caught himself and braced against her bed’s armrest. “My dear, please,” he chortled, finding his voice and looking her dead in the eye. “You would make a terrible vampire.”

Zemira crossed her hands over her chest and gasped, with adulation that was only partially feigned. “Aww, Vlad! You mean it?” 

“I can think of no other being I would want as a fledgling less than you.”

“...Not even Integra?”

There was a beat.

Alucard blinked. “I can think of but one other being I would want as a fledgling less than you.”

Zemira bobbed her head in emphatic assent, as that same past strain of unease began to creep up her spine in earnest. She wriggled her hands as though shaking off something sticky and cloying. “Yeah, feeling’s mutual. Cause then I’d have to call you the ‘M’ word.”

Alucard froze, eyeing her. “‘Master?’”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Ech,” Zemira made a crass gagging sound with her tongue stuck out. She shuddered, though it didn’t stop a cavernous yawn from pushing her eyes shut and distorting her speech. “Could never be me, not even once.”

The moment Zemira cracked her eyes open again, Alucard was looming right in front of her. Great palms planted on either side of her thighs, hair wisping down to tickle her nose as it wafted in a nonexistent breeze. His coat draped about them both as though a pair of fiendish wings swaddled her, as his mad menagerie of arcane eyes peeled open in droves. The insidious sneer he wore was so intense, so poisonous, and so beguiling that her blood turned to ash in her veins, stopping her heart and reducing her bones to gelatin.

The carnivore’s teeth parted, and liquid sin poured out. “You could always give it a try.”

Then Alucard choked on a cold length of metal that jabbed the back of his throat in a frantic flash. Zemira clutched her Browning handgun in a shaking fist, itchy finger resting atop the trigger. A nameless dread flashed inside her eyes, blown wide with uncharacteristic panic. Her pulse thundered in her head, as spiders danced along her scalp.

“N. O.,” she spelled out, spitting each word with corrosive bile. “Not in your wildest fucking dreams, Drac.”

Alucard’s gaze did not flinch or falter from hers for an instant. Instead, with a foreboding crinkle to the edges of his eyes belying inbound devilry, he wrapped his lips around the barrel of the intruding pistol, hollowed his cheeks, and sucked on it. 

Zemira’s face contorted into a confused flinch in an instant, and she released a thoroughly scandalized noise. One with all the enthusiasm of a prudish housewife coming across an oversized slug in her garden. Her mortification was only exacerbated when he fucking moaned at her, and she wrenched her weapon back with a hoarse shout. It did not conceal the furious flush on her face.

sitting here to myself reading old works and drafts only to get obliterated by what I thought was a super well written scene and now I wanna spread that joy in a tag game.

there are no requirements for the number of folks that can tag, but if you are tagged: know that the person who tagged you wants you to share three of your favorite lines/descriptions/scenes that you're written.

wanna give it a try? @rotten-hearts-sharp-teeth @hellogreyeyedathena @neet0 @corvidcrybaby @zestyaahbutler

3.

The minute parting of her lips and ruby red dust on her cheeks burn her expression into his memory and he knows that he’ll savor it over and over again. A big bad wolf and his sweet little bunny, living in their cottage in the woods with a floor of wildflowers. Better yet, it’ll be the same little spot that Briar teaches their kids the magic to weaving branches with flowers and Barrett will get to sit and watch over them, alert for threats to keep them safe. That’s almost as strong an urge as the hunt, now, and he wonders how he could ever deny it. He’d lay his life down for this woman without a second thought.

(May Day Celebration, Briar/Barrett, OCxOC, thanks Rotten)

2.

He follows not long after, trailing just far enough behind he can enjoy the way her skin seems to glow in the humid air before she takes a couple long strides and flings herself off the end of the dock. Contrary to his training and previously rigid life, he just dumps his clothes in a pile beside hers and follows her lead: taking wide strides until he reaches the end of the dock and vaults himself into the air, landing with a splash that swamps over her just as she surfaces.

Even then she laughs and they chase each other throughout the lake, strokes and splashes kicking up ripples that disturb the view of heaven overhead. He feels young again with her, cool water caressing his skin and giving him the illusion that, for one night, it was just them in their prime and all the privacy in the world in all the ways he’d craved before the violence of his life dragged him in.

(Midnight Dip, Claire/Hans, OCxCanon)

“No!” Briar squeezes his hand in hers, taking him seriously. “I’m knitting so we can curl up in it together. It's warmer that way.”

1.

His eyebrows push together and he wrinkles his nose at her, seriously questioning her judgement, before he gives up and decides it’s at least in his favor for now. “Are you knitting that blanket so that you can stay warm without me?” He cracks a dry smirk at his own joke.

“If you insist,” he says, smile falling back into neutrality.

"You're not going to make me leave soon, are you?" Briar’s hand in her knitting tightens.

It’s Barrett’s turn to squeeze the hand he holds. "No, you'll always have a spot in my den, bunny."

In Briar’s ears, the sound of the television drowns out and her heartbeat picks up. Her sweater and the half-made blanket in her lap are stiflingly hot and yet not warm enough. It leaves her fingers twitching and her gaze searching Barrett’s calm face. "Don't say that or I may never leave."

"All the more reason for me to say it over and over again."

(Dreams, Briar/Barrett, OCxOC, thanks again Rotten!)

[octania]

Congrats on 200!!! 💫 you really deserve it honestly! Is it okay if I get 22 with our buff boy Obi 👉🏽👈🏽👀 best believe his fingers prolly feel great

I was so damn amused with the song WAP- Cardi B (WAP stands for Wet ass pussy) that one ANON mentioned (Sol bless your thirsty mind 🙏 )  , I decided to do these Headcanons so they match the lyrics (lyrics are the bolded parts in the text). That song is so damn thirsty I just could not resist, and my brain just could not let Obi go when I heard it, imagining all the ways he would please that WAP…..So, I will do this request + this idea, making a sweet smut pie out of it. I do recommend listening to the song before reading, it is like a thirsty hymn, I swear 🤣 . Bon appetit.

PROMPT 22. : “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

Word count: 1.7 k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, spanking, rough sex.

Short description: Obi is a freak in the bedroom.

_________________________________________________

I want you to park that big Mack truck right in this little garage – You will never forget the first time Obi had his way with you, first time you two had sex. What that man did to your little cunt prevented you from sitting normally for a few days. You were no virgin, but you felt like one when he entered you. Only seeing the size of his dick for the first time, made you swallow nervously. Above average was a poor description  of it, massive was even a weak word…giant was the closest. As his whole body was, big and strong, his dick was matching it perfectly. He even went in gently, slowly, really giving his best to let you get used to the size and your pussy to adjust its walls to it. But there was no helping the feeling of being stretched to the limit, being filed to the brim, being too small for the cock that was only half in and you were already feeling dizzy. He would kiss your face, whispering- “Shh baby, you are doing great.” –pushing a bit more, then answering on your whines while you sink your nails in his shoulders. “Fuck baby…good girl, spread that legs for me…daddy will take care of you.” – your body released more juices from the arousal on his words. He felt the fraction beginning to be smoother, taking the advantage of the moment, sticking it in to the end. You screamed his name, as it echoed the room. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he pushed your hands into the mattress, picking up the pace. He started slowly and tenderly, but the clutch of your slippery walls around his length made him lose it, making the push turn into a shove, smashing into you with no hesitation, fucking you into the mattress like his pretty little whore.

He bought a phone just for pictures of this wet-ass pussy- You hate being separated from him, and he despises it even more. Not being able to touch your warm flesh and feel the soft skin on his, knowing he is being your shield from everything all the time makes him furious. What makes him even more mad, is when he is not able bury his rock hard dick into you when he has the need, and he does not care much for porn. He wants his girl, the one that makes his wildest and most intimate fantasies come true. So, what is better than to document that lewd fantasies? There is a phone. A smart phone with high resolution camera, and photos and videos are the only things that are on it. From all the pictures of you in tight skirts, role play clothes like nurses or cat girl, his cum dripping from your face as you lick the tip of his dick to collect the last of it, his favorite , and most used for his jerking, is the video when he was fingering you in one of the bases bathrooms. The sight of you pressed on that cold bathroom tiles , with your ass placed on the sink, legs spread as his two fingers travel to your G spot, caressing the velvety walls, and his thump pressing your clit to make the stimulation even more intense, gets him to cum in minutes while he strokes his dick on it. The part that makes him almost always cum in an instant is when he hears and sees your response on his comment. -“Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”, he said while spitting on your clit to make the circular motions of his thumb on it even smoother. The golden response he got was priceless “Stretch my pussy with the third finger, please daddy.”- the strings of his warm cum almost always  burst from his throbbing dick when that part of the video comes. 

I want you to touch that lil' dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat – Touch it? He would pass by it, sticking it right on your palate, shoving that thick dick right in your tight throat, enjoying how he fills the space with ease. As you try to breathe, the muscles would clutch around his meant that would prevent you from getting that sweet air. Looking in your watery eyes, feeding on the sight of your mouth full, he would whisper “Suck baby.”- stroking your hair. Something about this soft gestures mixed with perverse things he does to you, gets him into a fever pitch. You purse your lips, push your tongue along his length, and suck in your cheeks, creating pressure around that massive thing. Oh, and daddy Obi is satisfied. Tilting his head, he enjoys your efforts to be granted air, petting your cheek. Then he pulls out for a brief moment, to let you fill your lungs with oxygen, just so he can repeat the process again…and again…and again.

 I'm a freak bitch, handcuffs, leashes – What made you think he is not a freak when it comes to toys?  Man is surrounded by various gadgets because he is not blessed with fire as a power, so he needs to be handy with the equipment. And we all saw that he is more than handy….so you better believe that passion and experience follows him in to the bedroom. When he is done filling your mouth with his own equipment, he wants to make sure that you will be quiet and not wake up the whole base with your screams while he fucks you to the point you have no sound left in you. He would wrap a tie around your mouth, handcuff you to the bed, and spread your legs. Seeing you that helpless, he had a need to save you. And how do you save a thirsty beauty? You quiet down that thirst. First, he would make sure you are all soaked and ready, because it will be a long ride once he is inside. He would rub his fat cock on your folds, along your slit, pressing it on your clit, creating a fraction that is making you insane. Swallowed by anticipation, you trying to jerk your hips up, just to be smashed back down on the mattress, and forced to endure his slow teasing game. You meet your punishment soon, when a vibrating thing meets your nerve bud. You scream around the tie that is stuffed in your mouth, just to be shushed again with his words. “The more you move baby, the more I will enjoy playing with your pussy.”- Another pleasure explosion, spreading along your body from your clit. Somehow you managed to peek down to see what is going on. Obi was pressing a small vibrator on your clit, continuing to rub himself on your entrance. “I need to make you nice and wet for what is coming.”- he explains in a husky voice, pressing the toy harder on your over stimulated pearl.

You can't hurt my feelings, but I like pain – Obi would be damned before he would ever break your heart, or even make you sad to be fully honest. He would carry you like a drop of water on his palm, giving you the treatment that only a queen would have. And that you are, his beautiful queen. But…as his queen, you have to be good to your king. Your behavior sometimes crosses the limits. He is a busy man, and he needs to fulfill his obligations on time, after all, he is a captain, and as a head of the house there is no slacking. So, when you continue to bother him while he is working by jumping on his lap, asking him a thousand meaningless questions, taking his papers that he is currently reading, teasing him by bending down, pretending that you dropped something just so you would put that booty right up to his face and you know he would stare at it because he can’t not resist the sight…well, you will get what is coming to you. That night, when he enters your room and climes on the bed while you are already asleep, he would turn you so your belly is on the mattress, grabbing your panties, pulling the fabric as it breaks with ease, smacking you with his rough palm on your ass cheek, so you are not only awake, you are well aware of the things that are about to go down. “What did I tell you about not letting me work?”- before you could murmur the answer, another sharp slap on your tender skin, making you whine. You are going to cry about this when you know you deserved it? Obi does not think so. He pushes your head into the pillow, smacking you a couple of times on the both cheeks, fast. The whines now are silenced by the cushy pillow, but his words are loud and clear. “Quiet.”- ordered the captain as the next slap is on your pussy, softer but still sharp. When his hand meets your sensitive parts, you feel dizzy with the pain mixed with pleasure, and he can feel your reaction by your trembling, letting him know he is really teaching you a lesion.

I need a king cobra – You know what they say, be careful what you wish for because you might just get it. And now you have tasted the consequences. I mean, what did you expect, the man had a picture of Double power cobra on the Fire force calendar. That was a clear warning. His body is representing one cobra, and the other the part in his pants. Your fault you decided to ignore the warning signs, now you can’t sit for a weeks or talk normally because that  cobra destroyed and owned your holes, like a king should.

Bonus: Hinawa walked into the bathroom, seeing something on the floor. He leaned, picking the thing up with his pen he had in his pocket. A bright red thong hanging from the tip of the pen. He murmured - “There’s some hoes in this house.”   ( 😂 🤣 😂 🤣  You will get this is you listen to the song 😂 🤣 )

If you want to support my work, you can leave me a small tip on Ko-fi 💖 . It is highly appreciated. 🥺 😍

[bartholomewmacmillan]

You'll need a boutonniere. Actress Kathryn Harrold is 66.

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[wayfaringmd]

Enneagram Types as Medical Specialties

Type 1: Infectious Disease. They’re always on a mission to improve antibiotic stewardship. They probably did a stint with MSF providing life saving vaccines and HIV treatment to the medically underserved, even before it was the cool thing to do. They could have done cardiology and made the bigger bucks but they followed their calling to reign in and order the chaos that is orthopedists ordering antibiotics. When healthy they wear 5 different professional hats and do all the jobs well, AND still have great bedside manner. Their perfectionist tendencies may also draw them toward plastic surgery- reconstructive, not purely cosmetic.

Type 2: Pediatrics. Typically they are warm and squishy, always ready to help and give of themselves to a fault. They will see 40 patients a day in flu season just to make sure all the parents are happy. During med school their self-care involved rocking babies in the NICU and their main extracurricular was dressing up as an Avenger to hand out stuffed animals at the children’s hospital. Throw an abused child or an anti-vaxx parent of 6 in their midst and they’ll blast you with enough truth and protective energy to blow off their own bow ties and novelty socks. Type 2s could also go in to Infectious disease (I see y’all running those free HIV clinics) or psychiatry (unhealthy 2s that is...codependent much?).

Type 3: the stereotype would be Cardiology or Neurosurgery. Because it sounds really great to say you fix brains or hearts, right? But Threes could reasonably be any specialty, as long as they’re at the top of their game. They were the person in your med school class who was AOA, MD/PhD, and Doctor’s Doctor. They had top USMLE scores and glowing letters of rec and can be genuinely great doctors. They aspire to be medical director or chief of staff at their clinic or hospital. They drive a foreign car with a vanity plate and always wear a crisply ironed white coat. This doctor wants to mentor students, if for no other reason than to make themselves feel important.

Type 4: Psychiatry, obvs. Who else would appreciate being in the midst of constant melancholy? Raw emotions and vulnerability do not scare them, but they may hide their own self-consciousness behind a mask of caring about others’ feelings. They secretly hope that in counseling patients they will one day uncover their own identity and significance. Some will be aloof because they see their emotions as being deeper or more complex than their patients’, and thus should be a burden they bear quietly. Others will embrace their individuality and fluid identity and use it to show the exact persona their patient needs at a certain time. (Note: I worked with these 2 psychs in medical school. One gave zero clues to his own inner workings but you could tell there was some deep blue something there. The other wore Miss Frizzle type dresses and would laugh histrionically with one patient, cuss out the next, and weep with the next.)

Type 5: Pathology or Neurology. Following the stereotype, if they have to interact with people they should either be dead or be part of a really interesting puzzle. Pathologist Fives love their hospital basement offices where nobody bothers them all day. The neurologist is patient with people only because she likes to play “map that lesion” secretly when she examines them. Fives could also be Family Practitioners or internists (the kind who won’t give up until they figure out your diagnosis), Radiologists (less peopling and stress, more quiet and chill time), Anesthesiologists (sleeping patients are good patients), or Ophthalmologists (it’s dark in there and you probably can’t see them clearly. This is ideal for forced Peopling ™ because it adds a layer of secrecy).

*Caveat: But Wayfaring, aren’t you a 5? Yes I am! But I’m a social subtype of 5 so I’m a bit more open to human interaction. My personal need for knowledge is tempered by my 6 wing which needs to consider lots of possible scenarios for every patient, so I’m more focused on being competent in a wide variety of subjects rather than needing to know everything about one thing. I have a hard time with the peopling sometimes, so I tend to spend my off time alone recharging.

Type 6: phobic 6: Hospitalist. This doc obsessively checks his patients’ vitals and labs a dozen times a day for fear of missing something. They don’t just read imaging reports, they pour over the scans just to make sure the radiologist didn’t miss anything. Their documentation has all the right phrases to protect them from malpractice lawsuits and Medicare fraud allegations. Patient is in for simple cellulitis? Call Infectious Disease anyway. Consult nephrology because the vanc will probably jack up the patient’s renal function. Consult ortho because the cellulitis overlies a joint and maybe it’s infected too. Consult palliative team because the patient is 89 and a full code. Check a pregnancy test because patient is female. Who cares if she’s 89? Consult everyone. It could be lupus after all.

Counterphobic 6: ER or Trauma surgery. Everything could go wrong, so might as well jump right in and assume it already has.

Type 7: Emergency. They need variety to keep them going. Somehow they manage multiple crashing patients at the same time, flitting from room to room and putting in orders on the fly. Though they look scattered and disorganized they are great multitaskers and can anticipate which patient will need intubating soon and have already planned what they will do when the 3 car pileup victims roll in 5 minutes from now. If they keep their wheels spinning too long, though, they’re highly prone to burnout.

Type 8: Surgery. Probably Trauma surgery. They’re direct and they know what to do immediately in a crisis. This doctor loves the challenge of the unknown and the opportunity to run a team. They might come across as abrasive when they’re working, but they do great work and want the team to succeed.

Type 9: Primary Care Family or Internal Medicine. Likely in Urgent Care or a concierge practice. You want antibiotics and steroids? They know they aren’t indicated but they don’t wanna rock the boat. Here’s your Rx. Prime specialty would be palliative care. Everyone gets what makes them happy!

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Dancing lessons

Hi!! I'm sorry, this one took forever, I had a Dengue Virus outbreak to deal with for the last three weeks and I even had the damn thing myself, not funny, wouldn't recommend it, it felt like shit and I had to skip work two days, thankfully no mortal victims, at least not on my watch, but the town is still recovering, anyway work is crazy and that's why I haven't update anything, I'm really sorry

Summary: Barry is finally cast in a feature, the problem? He said he could dance and now he can either disappoint Sally or found a way to learn some steps.

Part 1 ● Part 2 ● Part 3 ● Part 4 ● Part 5 ● Part 6 ● Part 7 ● Part 8 ● Epilogue

Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence, guns, cheating maybe.

Part 4

The lights on your studio were still on when you entered, and the dry blood on the floor made a horrible sight that almost made you faint again, thankfully a strong arm was holding you since you get out of the car, and he was looking at the floor too.

"I can clean that if you want" He said helping you sit down on a chair. "I'm not sure if you should climb your stairs yet"

"Thanks, that would be great. I would say leave it but I have class early tomorrow and is not a nice view for a bunch of 4 year olds" you said thinking about the wooden floor and how much damage the blood would cause, and Barry walk inside the storage closet looking for a mop.

"Then I will leave it there, you are insane if you think you are going to give any class tomorrow" He came back with the cleaning supplies and gave you a judging look, lacking any authority since he was holding a bottle of detergent in on hand and a bucket in the other.

"Fine mom, I'll cancel" you held your hands high in surrender "Actually I can use a day off, I have this terrible student in the afternoon, he is a pain in the ass" You said and he rolled his eyes at you while rolling up his sleeves and starting to clean the floor.

An hour later the floor was spotless, he had an odd talent cleaning up blood, and made a funny shocked face when you pointed it out, the clock announce it was merely 8:00 pm and you had to remain awake until 6:00 am at least.

"I feel well enough to go upstairs, you can leave now" you told him hoping he would listen since his presence made you feel uneasy at times.

"No way, the doctor gave me a list of things to check up every couple hours, and if I leave you would fall asleep, but let's go get you upstairs, you will be more comfortable on your couch" He said approaching with the clear intention of carrying you on his arms.

"I can walk, that won't be necessary" You said quickly, ignoring the idea of how wonderful would it be to be held in those arms.

Maybe that was the reason you had end up screaming in the first place, an elaborate defense mechanism your brain set up in motion to ignore the growing feelings you had every time he enter the studio, every time you held his hand and forced down your waist while you were dancing, and the longing in your skin asking for more.

Of course there was handsome men in your class every now and then, grooms, fathers of the bride, actors, etc. and you had always conduct yourself professionally regardless the clear intentions some of them may have. And you have always respected your marriage with Alan even in the worst of times. But Barry was different, there was just something about the way he looked at you that make you want to scream and run away because it terrifies you how easily you could fall for him.

"Are you feeling nauseous?" He asked once you were sitting on the couch, and you nodded no "Tired? Clouded vision? Having incoherent thoughts?" He continued reading the list the doctor gave him.

"I believe I'm a big green marshmallow queen of the north pole, but that's normal right?" You say dead serious and he hide a grin behind the white sheet of paper.

"Very funny, we should call the doctor and share the joke with her" he said seriously.

"Fine, I'm sorry. I have a minor pain in my head, but I can see and hear perfectly clear, I remember everything that had happened clearly and I don't feel like vomiting" you said and he put the list away satisfied with your answers. "I'm sorry I'm being an imposition to you, I'm sure you had plans" You continued and he opened his mouth to reply he was staying once again so you keep talking before he did "And since you are staying here at least let me fix you something to eat, is late and I don't think you have eaten". You stood up and he followed you to the kitchen.

"You really don't have to, I can make a sandwich if you tell me where things are, or we could order something, I don't think you should be near sharp objects" He plead alarmed when you took out a large knife from a drawer.

"Fine, but I'm paying, and once again I can assure you this is nothing I have had worst" you said putting down the cutting board and opening the fridge to offer him a beer "once I broke my leg in 3 pieces" you said confidently showing him a long thin scar on the side of your leg and suddenly feeling exposed since you haven't change from your dancing clothes, and you didn't feel the same confidence wearing them outside the studio.

"I've been shoot, a lot" he said lifting part of his shirt showing you a couple scars, not helping the situation in your mind.

"Ok war hero, you win, can you please order the food, I am going to change, feel yourself at home" You said patting his hand urging him to cover and hurrying to your room away from him.

***

Y/N took forever to come out and when she finally did she was wearing a comfortable pajama, and was drying her hair with a towel.

"You took a shower?" Barry asked upset "You could have fallen"

"But thankfully I didn't, I have to I was covered in blood and I need to find a way to cover this" She pointed at the place the doctor have shaved her hair and she tried to hide it with a lock of hair.

"I'm sure the parents would understand you had an accident" he said confused by her despair.

"Yeah, they will mostly, but Alan would make a big deal out of it and I'm sure he will use it as an excuse to keep pushing me into selling the studio" She said letting her hair alone and crawling onto the couch.

"Why would he do that?" He asked trying to be interested and ignoring the pinch of jealousy he felt once again when she mentioned his name "I mean you do charge a lot but you have many clients"

"Is not about the business, he just thinks I should sale the studio to Macy since she knows how to run it, and move with him to Dallas or Colorado or whenever his company wants him, that way he would be home every night to see our children" She said exasperated at the idea.

"Children?" He asked a bit shocked since she never had mentioned any children before.

"The hypothetical children we will have in case I actually leave this place behind" She said with a sad look on her face.

"So you don't want to have children?" He asked now genuinely interested. "I mean it's okay if you don't" he said quickly.

"Honestly?" She asked and he nodded "I really don't know, I mean when I was 22 and dancing in Moscow I have this crazy fantasy that I would retire in glory from ballet at 32 and meet a wonderful man and have a girl and she would be a great dancer by the age of 4." She had a sad smile on her face as if she could see herself in the moment she was describing.

"Moscow? As in Russia?" He asked.

"Yep, I was about to become a Prima Ballerina, then I broke my leg and every money I had went to surgery and recovery and suddenly I was no longer fitting to play Odette, or any major role and eventually like three years after I have to come back, I worked in Broadway for a while, that's when I met Alan"

"Sounds romantic" he said sarcastically making her laugh

"It was, at least at first, but then I had another lesion in my ankle so I was no longer able to work there either, and he was nice and sweet and he was with me, so we got married and end up here, five years later dealing with moms that feel their children would be next Maria Kowroski"

Barry's phone start ringing and he went downstairs to pick up the food, when he came back she was holding a big photo album in her lap.

"I haven't seen one of those in forever" He said entering the apartment holding the bag with Chinese food. "I thought everyone had digital albums these days"

"They do, but you can't do this to digital pictures" She said showing him burned hole in one of the photos. "Kids these days, what would they burn when they break up with a boyfriend? Anyway I'm starving" she pointed to the kitchen so they could eat.

They share an animated meal talking about how life and technology was passing by them, maybe a little lost resentful than usually since they both have the same opinions on the matter.

"Did you told him?" He asked after a while, he was leaning back in his chair looking at her finishing some noodles. "About not wanting kids I mean"

"Of course I did, since we were dating,but he had this idea that he would make me change my mind, and I was sure I would make him change his. Now we have civil dinners when he is home and pretend we are not angry at the way this marriage turned out, just waiting for one of us to give up and accept the other terms" She said and her bluntness took him by surprise again.

"I'm sorry" he said with a sad frown on his face "Earlier when I said this was your dream job and that your situation is perfect, I have no idea and I'm sorry"

"Don't be, I shouldn't have to try and prove you wrong forcing myself to do the Odile's Coda, since I'm clearly not in shape to do it" She smile at him and pointed the injury in her head.

"Well that only make it worse, why would you need to prove anything to me? I'm really sorry"

"Relax, you already making up for it being here, and is only 10:00 pm, do you want to play a board game? I would say we watch a movie but I would fall asleep quicker that way" She said and he agreed.

They played scrabble, bringing out some dark competitive instincts on both of them, only interrupted when Barry took a couple trips to the bathroom to call Sally who was not upset at all that he had canceled their dinner since she had this amazing party to go to.

By 3:00 am and feeling extremely tired and looking at her about to give up he call the hospital, the doctor kindly told him she was clear to sleep, news he took gratefully, but before he could tell her she was already curled in the couch, he sit next to her and let her rest her head on his chest, maybe when they woke up he could feel guilt and remorse about it, maybe he would have to stay away from her since he was obviously interested in her but at that moment he was very comfortable and lost in the smell of her hair to care about anything else.

@meraki--mei

[nythroughthelens]

I didn't know I was blind in one of my eyes until I was 24 years old My first eye exam was courtesy of the New York City public school system. I was 9 years old. 

That year a dentist and eye doctor visited the school to give exams to children whose parents couldn't afford such vital health services. Falling squarely into that less than fortunate category, I was able to get my eyes examined for the first  time.

The exam was rushed. I remember the eye doctor's crisp white coat and his gruff tone. I was asked to read a chart on a wall with my right eye. 

I replied quietly that I couldn't read the letters.  

The doctor appeared only slightly bothered, “Not even the top letter?”

I heard myself apologize automatically, “No, sorry sir.”

“Are you sure ?”, he asked sounding slightly perturbed.

I started to question reality, “yes?”

And that was the end of the exam.

I was diagnosed with a lazy eye and prescribed glasses with one comically thick pane of glass on the right side. 

I wore glasses like that for years. I also had chronic headaches. At a subsequent visit with another eye doctor in my early teens, headache concerns and failure to read letters on the eye chart with my right eye were interpreted as a need for a stronger prescription. 

When I was 18 years old, I moved out on my own and I stopped wearing glasses. I broke the one pair of glasses that I had and since I didn't have money for eye exams I concluded that it didn't matter anyway. My internal reasoning was that if I had a lazy eye, it wanted to be lazy. Why bother it further? Let it be lazy if it wants. 

My headaches stopped.

Years passed.

When I was 24 years old, I finally got health insurance from one of my jobs. Feeling residual guilt over not wearing glasses for years, I booked an appointment with an ophthalmologist. The exam involved a lot of questions, lights, and intricate machinery. 

At the end of the exam the doctor said: “I am about to ask you a strange question. What ear do you use when you use the phone?”

I answered without hesitation: “Oh! My left ear. That's my good ear.”

She then asked what no other eye doctor had ever asked me.

She asked me what I saw out of my right eye.

I felt seen for the first time.

I had never articulated a response to the question that she asked and I replied: “ I see scattered light only the light looks like it's being seen through broken glass like light through a crushed kaleidoscope.”

Hearing myself say those words out loud was revelatory. 

The doctor told me that she suspected I had cortical blindness with blindsight (more on this below) and scheduled an MRI.

After a pretty intense brain MRI, I was diagnosed with cortical blindness in my right eye. 

Here are a list of random facts that apply to my subjective experience with cortical blindness and blindsight:

1. I have had it since birth. 

It could be genetic or it could have been due to my mother's health when she was younger. My mother experienced extreme trauma and malnutrition as a child when she was in concentration camps for four years (this is way too long to go into here, maybe one day I will write about that story). It's been shown that malnutrition and trauma can lead to future issues with reproduction. 

However, no one knows for sure what caused my cortical blindness and it will always be a mystery. I am ok with that. 

2. I see the world with my left eye. 

I use my left eye when I use a camera. It's what I look out of when I make art, look at people, work, and do 99% of the things I do.

I don't think about my right eye at all usually. Some situations that have forced me to think consciously about my right eye: -When I was in pre-med, microbiology lab was a big issue for me due to the binocular microscopes.

-Escalators used to make me extremely anxious since my depth of field is limited.

- 3D films give me headaches and make me nauseous because my brain tries to process the visual output with both eyes.

-I absolutely love road trips but cannot drive because of my cortical blindness.

3. I have Type 1 blindsight. 

Blindsight is a peculiar thing to attempt to explain.In fact, I have never even tried to write about it before so bear with me if this doesn't make a lot of sense.

Here is the explanation of blindsight on Wikipedia : “Blindsight is the ability of people who are cortically blind due to lesions in their striate cortex, also known as primary visual cortex or V1, to respond to visual stimuli that they do not consciously see. 

The majority of studies on blindsight are conducted on patients who have the conscious blindness on only one side of their visual field. Following the destruction of the striate cortex, patients are asked to detect, localize, and discriminate amongst visual stimuli that are presented to their blind side, often in a forced-response or guessing situation, even though they do not consciously recognize the visual stimulus. 

Research shows that blind patients achieve a higher accuracy than would be expected from chance alone.Type 1 blindsight is the term given to this ability to guess—at levels significantly above chance—aspects of a visual stimulus (such as location or type of movement) without any conscious awareness of any stimuli. 

Blindsight challenges the common belief that perceptions must enter consciousness to affect our behavior; showing that our behavior can be guided by sensory information of which we have no conscious awareness '' 

I seem to be able to sense people by their movements even without seeing them. I can sense when routine patterns are off by even a tiny amount. This feeling is amplified on my right side. I used to say I felt like I had a version of spidey-sense. When I was officially diagnosed with blindsight, my spidey-sense made totally sense.

If I am close with or around people for a while, I don't even need to look at them with my eyes to see them because I know with pretty good accuracy what is happening around me even if (or especially if) it is happening in my right eye field of 'vision'. 

If I am really into / crushing on someone and around them for any length of time my blindsight is even more intense when it comes to sensing their presence and movements. Blindsight can't be switched on or off. The intensity seems to differ depending on circumstance, surroundings, and even connection to people. It isn't ideal all the time since it just makes me feel hyper-aware of people and myself which then makes me retreat super awkwardly since I also have social anxiety. Fun :/

3. I call my right eye vision: colored glass world. 

I don't always see or visit colored glass world. In fact, most of the time, there is no conscious awareness of colored glass world. 

This is the closest image I could find to show what it kind of looks like (however, I can see shapes and light):

Unlike blindsight, I can absolutely go into colored glass world at will or I slip into colored glass world when these circumstances occur:

-When I am really tired or when I daydream I tend to slip into right eye vision because it feels soothing to escape into colored glass world.

-When I am super happy. 

-When I play piano I get into a flow state and colored glass world meshes well with this state. I have played classical piano since I was 3 years old and used to specifically memorize long pieces of music just to play the music while in colored glass world.

4. That ear question the ophthalmologist asked me wasn't totally out of left field.

It's not so odd to have a dominant side when it comes to sight and hearing when cortical blindness occurs in one eye. I can hear out of my right ear but it's just slightly different in a way that I can't quite explain. my left ear. I am hyper-sensitive to sound.

I also tilt my head to the right when speaking with people as if I am presenting my good eye and ear. Once people know this about me, they can't unsee it. 

5.The irony of the fact that I ended up in careers that rely entirely on my vision is not lost on me.

I am currently a photo director and producer at Vox Media for Curbed. I am also a photographer who does commissioned art for games, film, books, and other media and have had two photography books published.

My second book, NY in the Snow, was the culmination of seven years of going out into every major snowstorm in New York City to translate into art all the feelings of isolation, nostalgia, and loneliness I felt while surrounded by the vast snow-filled cityscapes.

I never wrote about my vision in the book. In fact, it only occurred to me when the book released in stores and I was actively promoting it, that my snow photography was the closest way I ever came to showing everyone else how my right eye vision meshes with my left eye vision.

I spent hours waiting for the right combination of people and cars to enter the stormy backdrops.

Did I ever slip into colored glass world while shooting and editing the images during that time period? 

All the time. 

6. I finally got glasses this weekend.

After I was diagnosed with cortical blindness, I was told that all the years of headaches were due to constantly putting a thick prescription in front of my right eye. It was forcing my brain to try to adjust to the prescription. and just led to misery.

However, years later, my left eye definitely has deteriorated a tiny bit.

Having insurance again meant a visit to a new eye doctor and glasses with a prescription only in the left lens to eliminate any headache issues.

Here are my new glasses yesterday (this image was taken for Instagram stories which flips images, this is clearly flipped). 

It's nice to have glasses with no prescription in my right eye.

My right eye is just fine as is.

[fangzeronos]

New Year Observations

As the new year and new decade get started, I spent the day reflecting on the last ten years. I’ve seen friends get married, have their families, friends break up and get with someone else. I’ve had most of my family pass away and my friends pass away too. I’ve fallen out of contact with a lot of people, recently reconnecting with several of them. I’ve watched the country go from great to bad. I watched fandoms destroy themselves, toxicity running through them like a virus. I’ve seen franchises rise and fall, and companies go from giving a shit to only wanting our money to line their pockets.

 But looking back through the last ten years, I realize just how little I have accomplished or succeeded in.

 I used to work for my county’s 911 center as a dispatcher in 2011. I loved that job. I was forced out of it by the coordinator who seemed to think I was “spilling trade secrets” to my father who helped set the place up the year before. I sent fire and ambulance crews to scenes. I was responsible for one my friend’s deaths because I couldn’t get the helicopter launched quick enough to get to him. I still can’t look his wife in the eye even all these years later. That guilt still eats me up.

 I’ve got a semi-successful writing talent. AO3 and Fanfiction.net being where I post most of my stuff. I’ve completed a few multi-chapter epics, a lot of one-shots, some I even scrapped entirely or have been dragging my feet for months, all ranging from Teens to Explicit. My twitter (@FangZeronos) is just me rambling about television and movies and occasionally talking with a famous person.

 I started realizing through all my introspection, though, that my biggest problem feels like my life is unfulfilled. I know I couldn’t have gotten through the last ten years without my wonderful girlfriend beside me. She’s kept me grounded through everything. Part of my problem is I see how successful my friends are, see where they’re at, like teaching or a pharmacist or a drag racer or engineers or in the military, and I realize I never moved on or out of this little town. And I know why I didn’t, and I hate using this as my excuse, but it’s true.

 It was because of my mother. My mom had Multiple Sclerosis, and it got bad. It was to the point where they stopped counting the lesions on her brain and spine because there were so many. It was bad enough that by the time my sister was graduating high school, my mother was wheelchair bound. When I graduated in 2009, I had a chance to go to school full ride, no student loans, no nothing. MY uncle was going to pay for it, but I declined because I knew someone had to be here for my mother because Dad worked all the time and my sister was still in school and active in her church. I took care of my mom for 5 years. I did everything. Medication, going with her to appointments, getting her in and out of bed, helping her eat when she couldn’t steady her own hands.

 Then…September 2013, she developed an inoperable brain tumor. Glioblastoma primary multiform is what it was called. It was pushing down on her motor cortex, and if they tried to operate, it could have killed her quicker. She went through the radiation and chemotherapy, but it didn’t work. It got to the point that between the MS and the tumor, we couldn’t take care of her at home anymore, so we were forced to put her into a nursing home. I sat with her when Dad was doing the paperwork in the main office and trying to get her settled when she started screaming at me that I hated her, that I was a disappointment, I should have been aborted, etc. Same thing I’d heard for years at that point. The week before Saint Patrick’s Day 2014, she’d had a minor stroke that severed the brainstem from the spinal column. She was essentially a vegetable, feeding tube and breathing tube to keep her alive. Dad and I visited her in the hospital on March 13th, and I couldn’t bear to go back.

 He and my sister were there on the 14th, and they decided to leave since there wasn’t anything to do other then listen to the steady “beep beep beep” of the monitors. My sister looked back and said “Dad, is she supposed to be that color?” My dad worked ambulances for 30 years, so he felt her pulse, feeling the last beat of her heart. He said she smiled, like she was finally at peace. They got home, told me what happened.

 I’ll admit, I was a little callous. I honest to God said, “Good. Now we can get on with our lives and stop wasting our time with someone that didn’t want to do anything but bitch about how her care was being done.” There were more then a few fists thrown in the following days. We had a memorial for her in the middle of April, hardly anyone showed up.

 After that, I could have gotten a job, done something with my life, but…I didn’t. I stayed home, took care of the house, did the laundry, the dishes, took care of the cats, kept the house up. I still do all of that. But the fact is that I’m 28 years old and I have fuck all to show for it. A house full of video games, Lego, Funko Pop Vinyls, and plastic toys from Japan. That’s all I have to show for ten years out of high school. Everything in this town is either fast food or grocery stores or Walmart, and I’ve applied at several of them over the last few years. When I check on the applications, they say “We already hired someone. Thanks for your application.” But then still keep the “NOW HIRING” signs out all of the place.

 I do think there’s something wrong with me. I go to bed way too late, I’m up way too early. I eat way too many sweet things, don’t exercise, don’t diet. Some mornings I wake up and honestly say, “Oh, I’m still here. Damn.” It always happens between the start of September and the end of February. Today was one of those days. I went to bed at 2, was up at 7:30, had that thought. I struggle with that on a regular basis, but I don’t tell anyone. Dad’ll say I’m doing it for attention. I don’t know what my sister would say. I keep it bottled up because I don’t like asking for help or look for the attention.

 I think I’ve gone on long enough. This is about five hundred words more then I wanted…Happy new year, everyone.

 Daniel

[thehiddensouth]

Mary

Denver, CO - 2018-7-3  #GreyMatters

Mary: By the time I was three years old, I’d had several brain injuries. And when I was three and a half our dog got hit by a car. My dad took it out to the shed and strangled it because there was nothing else to do with the animal. I walked in when he was strangling our dog.

BW: Do you think that impacted your mental health back then?

Mary: Oh, sure. My dad had hit my sister around that time and knocked her jaw out of place too so there was violence in the house. When you’re young, you’re very vulnerable to the circumstances of your environment. It’s at that point in our life we’re formulating what we’re going to be like. 

I also discovered that I had gender identity issues. All this was hitting me when I was very young. My life has been erratic ever since. 

Growing up, I was bullied because I was upfront about my intentions to become a woman. My school chums just hated me. They were relentless. I was one of the biggest kids in school, but because I wouldn’t fight, they would . . . I was scared. I was just terrified. 

When I was 10, I had a seizure following a head-butting game with a friend of mine. Apparently, the injuries I’d had when I was younger put together with that head-butting affected me dramatically. All of a sudden I couldn’t turn in circles anymore. I’d get motion illness very easily. That set me up for the neurological decline which they eventually diagnosed me with a couple of years ago. It turns out I have a white mass covering the inside of my skull plate and scars and lesions.

Also, when I was 10, I was sexually molested by a pediatrician for a year and a half. That gave me multiple personality disorder. Back then, it was just make-believe personalities that I kept inside of me, but then they emerged later as something more real.

By the time I hit adulthood, I realized I was transgendered and eventually went through with the surgery. I didn’t graduate from high school, and I ended up falling into drug abuse most of my adult life. By the time I was 30, I was pretty badly disabled. I’d abused a lot of drugs, and I was just a mess.

I met my partner and moved in with her, and started recovery, sort of. In about 2009, I started taking the recovery more seriously. I entered treatment for a rape that I suffered at the turn of the century from a violent predator. I realized the rape was affecting me pretty severely and causing multiple personalities to come out. 

My partner and I were having a lot of issues. My counselor encouraged me to volunteer, so I started as a receptionist at the Gender Identity Center. I also started volunteering for the crisis unit for WINGS, survivors of childhood sexual assault. They ended up taking a statewide crisis contract for doing phone services and established a peer team. I was the first hire on the team. I did crisis work for a year and a half as a peer specialist on the statewide support line., and that was awesome. 

But a girl on the team committed suicide, and I went down hard. I just couldn’t deal with it. I lost the ability to speak briefly. I was having neurological problems before she died and they became quite pronounced afterward. I had to leave the job. I almost died from stress within a few months. I had a neurological collapse.

It started out just dropping things. Eventually, it affected my speech. I had trouble controlling the left half of my body, even the left half of my tongue. At its worst, the left half of my tongue was hanging slack and the right half of my tongue was doing all the work to make me speak. It’s been two and a half years. 

BW: Has suicide come up for you?

Mary: Oh, yeah. I’ve been tempted many times in my life. If I get really stressed out and things are bad, it’s the first thought that always comes to mind. “I should just kill myself.” Then the sobering thoughts are, “Of course I’m not going to kill myself. That’s out of proportion to the circumstance.” My last attempt was 22 years ago.

BW: What’s helped?

Mary: Just trying to keep hope alive in my heart. If you’ve got hope in your heart, you can make it through just about anything. 

And this little one, she helps stabilize me when I’m getting emotional, anxious, depressed, or angry.