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softykooky · 4 years ago

Text

sanctuary: six

summary: leaving your father was easy. leaving them? well...that’s a different kind of strength. 7.9k words.

genre: mafia au, fluff, major angst

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings: toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, reader goes to therapy, hurt, argument/yelling, the boys are mean...

author’s note: i made you guys wait long enough hehe :) hope you like it, please let me know what you think! and please take notice of the warnings!! they are there for a reason <3

♡ series masterpost ♡

Your nightmares have gotten better...somewhat. Better in the sense that you don’t let them carry over as much to the next day. Better in the sense that now, there are seven smiling faces that greet you every morning to help the fear dissolve. But they still relent as strong as ever, and make you toss and turn every single night with no pity.

They’ve gotten more frequent since that meeting with your father. More vivid. Some nights, your nightmares are so bad that you just end up migrating over to Taehyung’s room right next to you and sleeping on the edge of the bed (though you just end up wrapped around each other in the morning). Taehyung never bats an eye. Only opens the side of his thick duvet for you to crawl into and flicks on a lamp because he knows you don’t like the dark after a nightmare.

Tonight is no different. From the other side of the wall, Taehyung can hear your pained whimpers and mumbles that he can barely make out. Your sheets rustle as your body protests the vivid dream, and he can’t help but to bolt out of his comfortable position to check up on you. You’re still deep in restless sleep when he opens the door and approaches your bed.

“Y/N, sweetheart, please wake up”, he soothes, caressing the side of your face with one hand. “It’s just a dream.”

The yellowing bruise on your cheek has begun to fade, but it still makes their blood boil every time they catch sight of it. Seeing it right now makes Taehyung want to burn the entire city down and your father along with it. But he is here for you. And Taehyung (and the other six) cannot be anything but soft towards you.

“Baby, wake up”, he says again, louder this time and it makes you begin to stir out of sleep. You quiet at the contact of his skin but your eyes remain closed and that fitful frown is still on your face. Taehyung doesn’t know that his mere presence brings you comfort. Even when you’re not conscious.

He takes the authority to nestle under the covers next to you and it’s as if your body just naturally gravitates to his, tucking yourself into his arms like a linking puzzle piece. It’s a selfish reason, and Taehyung doesn’t want to tell anyone, though he has a feeling the guys already know and also share his belief. But he secretly treasures the moments that he gets with you, even if it is for a heartbreaking reason such as nightmares.

He loves the feeling of your body next to his, and the blankets that get just a little too overheated because the both of you are human furnaces. He loves the gentle thud of your heartbeat on those nights that he holds you closer than normal, when you shake like a leaf through your dreams and he is your tether to the ground.

And to think, just a while ago he was yelling at you from the other side of the wall, complaining about your loud crying. He wants to go back in time and kick himself. Taehyung’s scared. He’s never really cared for someone like this before.

You are already safely stowed away in his wide chest when a shadow walks by the room. Taehyung is not surprised when Yoongi creaks the bedroom door open, and not surprised when he sees Jimin in tow.

“We heard her all the way from upstairs.” Yoongi mutters through a yawn. Jimin just sighs and looks at your sleeping figure with concern and longing. The two men shuffle into the room and as Jimin lifts up the blanket to flank your other side, Yoongi sets himself at the foot of the bed. Not that any of them lacked space, of course. The boys made sure your room was properly equipped with a large California king.

“It’s been getting worse. I don’t know what to do. I want to help her, but I-”

Taehyung finds himself getting choked up through his words. They all feel the same way. It’s just that there’s been too many nights where he’s had to hold your broken pieces together while you scream out the ghosts of what has happened to you. If it’s too much to bear for the seven of them, looking from the outside, they can’t imagine how it must feel for you.

Jimin reaches over, your body nestled between the two of them, and inserts his hand inside Taehyung’s, caressing the thumb back and forth of his skin.

“I guess all we can do is be here on the nights that are difficult.” Yoongi tilts his head so that he’s looking at you, still drifting off in your dream with a pained expression on your face.

“She’ll get through this. She’s strong.”

The words that Yoongi whispers into the night air of your bedroom are hopeful. Uncharacteristic for a man like him, but when it comes to you, optimism is the only choice. He’ll allow himself to have hope if it’s for you.

The four of you fall back into shallow sleep, and time passes by differently when it’s night time and your bones cry for rest. They fall in and out of consciousness for a minute or a couple hours, none of them are sure. All they can focus on is their worry, and you continue to battle through your war of bad dreams. Jimin and Taehyung awaken again when you begin to stir.

You quiver like you’re cold, even when you’re sandwiched in between two warm bodies and they both snuggle in to hold you even closer. But you remain lost to your nightmare and begin to cry tears that drip down and dampen the fabric of Taehyung’s pajama shirt. He knows you’ll apologize profusely for that in the morning, but he couldn’t give less of a damn about his shirt. The feeling of you crying in his arms makes him feel like an utter failure.

Jimin wipes away the wet trail that the tear left behind on your skin, and wants to cry himself. He doesn’t know how to take your pain away, and wants to scream because sleep is the only time where you can truly rest and the universe deprives you of even that.

“I’m so sorry, princess. We’re here.” He whispers to your unhearing ears. “We’ll be here.”

When your cries begin to get loud and your muttering becomes pained, the door is softly opened again. This time, it reveals a wide-awake Jungkook and a not so awake Hoseok. Yoongi rolls his eyes but can’t help the fond smile that paints his lips.

“Jungkook, I told you to stop staying up so late playing video games.” he whisper-scolds, and Jungkook looks sheepish in the lowlight of your bedroom. They’re not surprised by his late night antics by any means, and they’re also not surprised that he abandoned them to check up on you. They all know Jungkook has an unreasonably tender spot for you.

“Is it her dreams again?”, Hoseok says, pure worry leaking out of every word and staring at your impossibly small self in Taehyung’s hold. There’s no annoyedness in his tone. They’re all just deathly concerned about you.

Pushing Hoseok inside the room and quietly closing the door behind him, Jungkook situates himself on the loveseat next to the bed, while Hoseok just plops on the plush rug, snatching a throw pillow and tucking it under his head. Jimin sweeps a stray hair away that had fallen into your face.

Though they’re all trying to close their eyes and sleep, they all know that tonight will be a restless one. If you are not peacefully sleeping, they won’t be able to either. And it seems that that statement applies to all of them, when not even 10 minutes pass until Namjoon and Seokjin make their way to your bedroom, for the same reason as the other five. They wordlessly set out pillows and blankets on the floor beside your bed, nestling into each other for warmth and hoping that you can feel their sincerity even in sleep. And if anyone could see them now: big, bad mafia bosses cuddling together to help you through a night of bad dreams, Bangtan would force them to sign non-disclosure agreements. For you though, they could do this for hundreds of nights.

When all seven are there, you miraculously slumber peacefully through the night. For the first time since Taehyung crept into your room, you are resting comfortably, quiet and undisturbed. And when you start snoring, Taehyung wants to cry with sheer relief. It was as if your subconscious vied for the presence of all the boys, and now that you have it, they finally allow themselves to drift off as well.

The last thing you expected when you woke up this morning was to be dripping in sweat and much too aware of the extra three bodies on the bed with you. Ones you don’t remember going to sleep with last night. You have no recollection, just remembered that you went to sleep alone and now the seven men you’ve grown far too fond of were in the room with you, still snoozing the day away.

At the foot of your bed, Yoongi stretches his limbs and groans when the sunlight peaks through the curtains into his eyes. He squints away the sleep and smiles dopily at you from under a blanket. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the way you practically melt at just his gaze.

“Morning, sweetheart.” His throaty morning voice makes you blush two shades of red.

“Good morning”, you whisper back, not wanting to wake any of them up. They just look so adorable and so completely exhausted. Yoongi bets that all of them would rather forfeit their positions as mafia bosses before telling you it’s because they stayed up all night worrying about you. “Um…”, you murmur, eyes darting around the room, “why are you all in here?”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to admit how whipped they actually are for you.

“You were...having bad nightmares. So we wanted to come make sure you were okay.”

Your eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, and it reminds you of when Namjoon had done the same for you all those nights ago. It makes your heart ache and bloom at the same time because well..no one’s really cared enough to do something like this for you. Something so simple yet significant. You blink away the mistiness in your eyes, looking around the room once again.

Three of them are on your bed. The rest are distributed across the floor and Jungkook’s slung uncomfortably on a chair. When you look back at Yoongi, it seems like he already knows all the thoughts running through your head. He already knows the words you want to say, but don’t know how to articulate.

“We’ll do this every night if we have to, Y/N. For as long as it takes.”

You leap from your spot under the blankets to wrap Yoongi in a bear hug, burying your face in his shoulder as he buries his in your hair. Though you are overheated from the cuddling and still dazed from sleep, you hold him with as much sincerity as you can muster. You have a feeling he can tell when he holds you back just as warmly.

The movement makes Jimin and Taehyung wake in unison and as they rub the fatigue from their eyes and land on the sight of you perfectly swathed in Yoongi’s arms, the two of them think it’s a sight they could get used to waking up to. They wonder if you feel the same way.

“Thank you.” Your words are airy and light in his ear, but Yoongi knows their true weight. He doesn’t say anything. Just plants a soft kiss on the side of your temple and relishes in the scent of your shampoo.

When he stares past your shoulders, he meets the gaze of Jimin and Taehyung, who are fondly peering at the two of you. Years of being with each other, they’ve learned to communicate certain things without having to say anything. And right now, in the gentle morning light, the realization is beginning to seep in.

Perhaps the way they care about you is more what they had expected.

Living with the seven of them is an adjustment. Getting accustomed to a rhythm and routine in a house that’s the headquarters of an underground powerhouse is easier said than done. You were constantly surrounded with uncertainty and tiptoeing danger but you had never felt unsafe. They were there. And as long as you had them, this house was sanctuary.

You’re not in any immediate danger. Your father had basically agreed to leave you alone for the foreseeable future and the media had begun to calm down. However, when the tides have settled, the boys are able to see you up close and personal and at all the ugly scares you’ve tried to hide from everyone. They’re able to see what those years of trauma has done to you.

Whenever someone’s voice booms too loudly across the mansion, yelling orders at subordinates or for any other reason, you start to quiver like a leaf in the wind. When one of them reaches towards you too quickly, for simple things like a wave or to hold your hand, you can’t help but to flinch in anticipation. And you try to hide it, but it’s impossible not to notice.

They notice everything.

They always do, when it comes to you.

With every mannerism and survival instinct that has been involuntarily drilled into your subconscious, they all grow angrier that you’ve been subjected to this pain. Hoseok has had to talk Namjoon down from sending their entire fleet to dismantle the ambassador a couple too many times as they continue to learn how deep the trauma with your father truly runs.

“Y/N…”, Jin hesitantly mutters, fiddling with the food on his plate nervously, “have you ever thought about...going to therapy?”

You freeze in between a chew and swallow, eyes staring into his with an innocent deer-in-the-headlights expression. You look like you might have a panic attack, and Jin is quick to cut the tension.

“N-not that we’re forcing you to do it, my love. It’s only a suggestion. It’s just that..maybe it would be good for you. To talk about things and get professional help.” By the way he says it, and the way the other boys are staring at you expectantly, you realize this is something they’ve probably been discussing for a while now. And though it’s heartwarming to know that they care about your health, the idea of going to therapy is deathly daunting.

“I don’t know, guys…” You twist your hands in your lap, a nervous habit to show your discomfort and they all instantly regret bringing this up at all. You keep your gaze glued downwards. You’re afraid that if you look up, you’ll just see disappointment from the ones that you’ve grown to care about so much. You don’t think you could handle it.

“Could you look at us, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice is soothing and there is no single trace of anger or frustration. You slowly tilt your head upwards and meet his eyes.

“At the end of the day, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you don’t want therapy, then fuck therapy, princess.”

Namjoon feels gratification when his statement makes you smile, and his heart suspiciously flutters in his chest.

“But we just want the best for you. We all want you to heal because…”, Namjoon looks around and makes eye contact with the rest of the boys, whom he knows share his same feelings.

“You’re so important to us.”

You’ve known this. You know that they care about you even when your mind forces you to doubt that anyone does. But when you hear it like this, so raw and unfiltered with sincerity leaking in every letter, it ignites something that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

You take a glance next to you at Jungkook, whose warm smile makes your lungs feel like molten honey. At Yoongi, who looks back at you with gentle eyes. At Hoseok, who is impossibly soft with you. At them all. It makes you realize something:

You don’t want to go to therapy. It’s scary and you’re not really sure if you want to talk about your father or your family or anything that happened before you met Bangtan. But you have people who care about you now. And if you didn’t want to do this for yourself, then, well... you would do it for them.

“You don’t have to decide now, but-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice slices through Taehyung’s words. “I’ll go to therapy.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”, Hoseok questions. Though he wants you to very badly, he wants you to do it on your own terms. And though your statement is strong, he can see the doubt and uncertainty swimming in your irises.

“No, not really.” you whisper, and they practically deflate so you are quick to remedy their dejection.

“But...I know that I want to get better. I know it’s going to be hard, but I want to get better.” You take a deep breath.

“For you. All of you.”

The room falls silent, and the noise of clinking cutlery against porcelain plates stills. They could only look at you and wonder what country they have saved in their past lifetime to deserve to stumble upon someone like you. Someone so wonderful, and so damaged but so determined to heal. For them. For all of them.

Jungkook scoops your hand in his, and when you look in his eyes, you are stunned to see that there are unshed tears pooling at his waterline. He looks at you and there’s something in his gaze that you can’t place. Something lovely that makes you feel like all this hurt has been worth it. Jungkook looks at you like there is something worth looking at.

“We love…” From your other side, Jimin starts speaking, but cuts himself off halfway through and suspiciously glances around the table, meeting the gaze of the six other boys who already know how he wants to finish that sentence. But he doesn’t.

“W-We love that you want to do that for us”, he coughs, and you return it with a smile.

Did a part of you want him to say something different? Something deeper? You’re not sure, but the tinge of disappointment in your stomach that follows his words is a sign.

Could you allow yourself to think that someone could actually genuinely like you past platonicity? Much less seven powerful men? After years of your father telling you the complete opposite, accompanying each scathing word with a bruise, it’s difficult to believe anything different.

Therapy was, in a word, completely exhausting. It was tiring dancing around the subject of your father’s abuse, your mother’s neglect, Soyeon’s blatant denial and just the complete package of being the eldest daughter to Ambassador Yoo. When they all had scheduled you for 4 sessions a week, you immediately wanted to decline and opt for one. But their eyes had all looked so hopeful. So excited for you to get professional help, and there was no possible way you could have turned them down.

Progress is frustratingly slow, though. Some days you just want to quit.

You plop unceremoniously on the large plush sofa, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and cradling it to your chest. The boys are all in the other room, but are now fully aware of your presence after you slammed the front door and huffed your way to the comforting couch. They can practically feel the rays of stress emanating from you.

“Y/N? Baby? What’s wrong?” Jimin is the one that first approaches, and the rest stare on with concern leaking out of every pore. And when you reply with a sniffle and hiccup, their hearts all collectively break.

You feel a dip in the couch and crane your neck to lock your teary eyes with Jimin’s, whose brows are deeply furrowed. You involuntarily launch into his arms, tucking your face into his neck, and inhaling his cologne that always manages to calm you down. You hear them all shuffle around you.

“It’s just..”, your voice pitifully cracks, “hard.” From your position, they are thankful you cannot see the heartbreak in their expression. It’s so hard for them to see you as anything but happy.

“I don’t know if I can do it”, you breathe out, feeling a new wave of tears begin to rise. You want to cry even more at the thought that they would be more disappointed in you. .

But there is a warmth from your other side, and you don’t know who it belongs to as it sits next to you.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N”, Namjoon whispers oh-so-softly. They are such simple words. Arguably mundane and ordinary. Then why does it knock the wind right out of your chest? Why does it light up your dark tunnel? He’s proud of you. They all are. Even when you are an emotional mess with low mental energy, Namjoon is sitting next to you and telling you that he’s proud.

You erupt into heart wrenching sobs that won’t seem to stop no matter what you do. It’s the kind of cry that feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. A cry that comes straight from your core and it sounds painful but truthfully, it’s just relieving. You know that all of them are worried out of their minds. You can feel it in the way Jimin shakily holds you as tight as he can, as if you are delicate chipped porcelain in his arms.

But this is how you rebuild. With the seven of them by your side. You tell Namjoon to cancel your future therapy sessions the next day. Your psychologist was far short of revolutionary, and when they all asked you why, you admit that it’s not the therapy that’s helping you get better.

It was just them. Being around them. Talking to them.

It was Seokjin carding his hands through your hair and rubbing out the tension that always inevitably develops in your temples. It was Namjoon letting you lounge quietly in his office as he goes through paperwork, enjoying your presence as much as you enjoy his. It was Yoongi and Hoseok rambling to you about their adventures on the field (leaving out the gory details, of course. They wanted to keep you innocent and soft). It was Taehyung sneakily replacing your pink peonies as soon as the first petal began to wilt, even after the infinite amount of times you told him it was unnecessary. It was Jungkook and Jimin making excuses to spend the afternoon snuggled up on your bed when you all knew it was simply because they wanted to hold you.

It was all of them tiptoeing around affection, craftily sneaking in spare kisses and touches on the skin. Holding you a little longer than necessary, a little more tenderly. Intertwining your hands under the dinner table, or when their subordinates weren’t looking.

You notice the way they blush more often, if you let your touch linger for too long, or if you brush past them and make skin contact. You notice how pet names are easier to spill from their lips; ones like: my love, honey, sweetheart, baby...and you can’t help but to completely indulge in the way it is addressed only for you. Little ways to subliminally tell you that perhaps you meant more to them than they were ready to admit. And you would be lying if you said your feelings for the seven of them were completely platonic. You would be lying if you said love wasn’t on the brain.

Perhaps you are the missing piece to a puzzle they hadn’t realized was unfinished.

“Hyung...I think I love her.” Jungkook is unsurprisingly the first one to voice it. The six others don’t even bat an eye.

“No, Jungkook. I know you love her”, Hoseok whispers back in the tense silence of their meeting room. You are fast asleep on the floor above, but their hearts call out to you through the short distance.

“I am too. We all are.” It is a truth they’ve known for a while. Sooner than they’re proud to admit.

“I guess now all we have to do is figure out how to tell her.”

They did want to. Tell you, that is. They wanted to shout it from the rooftops and make it known to the world that you are the angel that has snatched their hearts without even realizing it herself. If it hadn’t been for the disaster that suddenly struck their mafia, the boys would have already bared their souls to you. But timing was never kind.

Bangtan were not known to be gullible. Not known to be easily fooled. So when Taehyung ran into their meeting room, red-faced and clenching his fists so hard they turned white, the Judas in their gang had come as a scathing surprise.

One of their inner circle. Someone they had poured their trust and faith into, who had learned the system of their syndicate, had been a mole the entire time. Of course, they had disposed of him quickly, but the damage had already been done to their business. Allies and affiliates were backing away from collaboration in fear that Bangtan had been breached by law enforcement. Shipments were going missing more frequently, and even the lower hierarchies of their gang were beginning to become doubtful. To say the least, the seven of them were under debilitating stress and frustration.

Nowadays, things were different than before. You were mostly kept in the dark about their business but you knew that something had happened. Something to make them so wound up, and it worried you to no end. It’s impossible not to notice how tense the house had become.

Taehyung no longer stops by your room late at night, and in the early hours of the morning, you can still hear the frustrated clacking of his keyboard from next door. Not that you needed him to help you through your nightmares, but...you’ve gotten used to his comforting presence next to you.

Jungkook doesn’t seek you out for random conversations, and Namjoon just completely disappears in his office most days, not sparing you a single glance when he does manage to show his face outside. He locks the door now. You take it as a strong message that you are no longer welcome, and it upsets you, but you understand they are going through a rough patch. Your job is to be the least bothersome person you could possibly be.

But Yoongi just flat out ignores you now, and you know Hoseok pretends to care about whatever topic of conversation you bring up. You can see right through his empty affirmations and nods. The kitchen is completely void of Jin, and there are no more clanging pots and pans when you try to cook for yourself. And Jimin is just like the rest of them: absent and indifferent to your presence.

You know that it’s not you. The problem on their plate is bigger than you, but it still feels like you are a walking, breathing burden. You know that it’s not you, but your mind tells you they don’t want you here anymore. They’re sick of you.

Two weeks pass by, and they’re still so cold even after all your attempts at trying to be calming comfort in their chaotic lives. They still talk to you, but it’s strictly refrained to small talk that feels obligatory and like they have better things to do than spend time with you. They’re so busy that you often find yourself hanging out alone in the garden or making light conversation with the maids, or gang rookies that hang around the mansion.

And it hurts to admit, but they don’t notice when you begin to regress to your old behavior. They don’t notice when you begin to flinch at anything that moves too quickly again, or the way you begin spacing out more than usual when you delve too far into your thoughts. They don’t notice when your nightmares start worsening again, too busy in their pooling stress to hear you toss and turn late at night and emerge from your bedroom with red, sunken eyes in the morning. You are relapsing into the learned behavior from your father, and you are terrified to admit it to yourself. But after a particularly bad day of anxiety and panic attacks, you put your fear aside to talk to the boys again about going back to therapy. It was virtually pointless, but you won’t let the seven of them take the brunt of your mental health when they had so much going on already.

You timidly make your way down to the lower level of the mansion, slow footsteps leading you to their meeting room, where they’re all engrossed in their work and you can feel the tension choking the air. None of them notice your presence at first, until you cough to get their attention. They all snap their heads up and stare.

“Hey, could I um..talk to you guys for a couple minutes?”

You feel like a specimen under a microscope. You used to be so comfortable talking to them. Now it just feels unnatural.

“Can it wait, Y/N? We’ve just lost another shipment, and it’s a big one”, Yoongi grumbles from his seat, rifling through a tall stack of papers with a permanent crease in his brows.

“Okay, then when can we-”

“We’re just really busy right now.”

Jungkook doesn’t mean for his voice to be so loud. He probably didn’t even pay attention to it, but it makes you flinch and stumble backwards. Makes you melt more into the girl you used to be. The one who stayed quiet out of survival, diminishing under the authority of a loud voice with cruel intentions. You know he doesn’t mean to do it. But you can’t help but see the face of your father again, and those long-healed scars seem to re-flicker with pain.

Still, these were your boys. So you push on.

A deep breath. “I was just thinking that maybe I could go back to-”

“Y/N, please. We don’t even have enough time to breathe. I’m sure whatever you need can be addressed later.”

The room falls into silence. Their message is loud and clear. And though it's painful to hear, it’s your own fault for exaggerating your place in their lives. He was right, it could be addressed later...you were just being a bother.

“Right. Sorry.” Your halfhearted mutter falls deaf on their ears. They haven’t spared you a single ounce of attention, eyes still glued onto their work. You swallow down the heavy feeling in your throat and force the tears away. Why does your chest feel like someone’s twisted up your heart?

You’re always so sensitive, Y/N. Such a crybaby. You can’t even take care of yourself.

The tread upstairs back to your bedroom feels like an arduous journey as you try to hold yourself together and pretend like their actions hadn’t hurt you. But they weren’t responsible for your trauma. Your problems. You couldn’t blame them for not making it a priority, when their empire was threatened.

They don’t hear you that night when you hold a goose-feather pillow to your chest and sob out the fear of being unwanted again. They don’t show up at your bedroom door when you wake yourself up from crying through a nightmare.

You’ll figure it out yourself, with or without a therapist and with or without depending on them. From now on, you decide to make yourself invisible, focusing all your energy on dragging yourself out of the dark place you’re stuck in once again. So if you have to suffer in silence for their sake, so that they don’t have another insignificant loose end to worry about, you’ll do it. It’s the least you can do.

But you’d come to learn that those words are easier said than done.

“Miss Y/N?” There is a light knock at your door, and the soft voice of the maid barely penetrates through the thick wood. You remember her name was Jun. The noise goes through in one ear and out of the other, and you can’t even find it in yourself to reply.

“You haven’t left your room in two days. I was just...making sure you’re okay.”

Her statement shocks you out of your dazed stupor, and you hadn’t even realized the amount of time you spent staring into space, limp on your mattress.

It was getting harder. To just function and drag yourself out of your bedroom so you didn’t, and two days unknowingly passed. But to you, they only felt like hours. Time passes by differently when you’re blindly navigating through trauma.

It’s hard to sit up and slowly tread to the door, and your bones ache after not moving for so long. When you open it, guilt pools in your stomach to see her worried expression. Though you can guess why she looks so concerned. You’re a complete disaster.

“Oh, honey…”, she sighs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “here. Let’s get you into some fresh clothes.”

You mindlessly let her help you out of your days old T-shirt and sweats, mindlessly let her guide you into the shower and turn on the water, mindlessly let her rub shampoo into your scalp. You don’t even have the energy to open your mouth and tell her the water’s too cold. You’re still stuck inside your own thoughts, and you can only hear your father’s voice in your ear as he repeatedly affirms how worthless you are. Useless Y/N, that’s what he would say. Good-for-nothing Y/N.

You’ve somehow gotten it into your head that the reason why they’ve been so absent with you is because they don’t know to tell you they want you to leave. After all, staying in the Bangtan mansion was only supposed to be a temporary solution. Maybe this is how they kick you out.

When Jun wraps you in a fluffy towel and drags you out from underneath the showerhead, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks are sunken, and the dark circles under your eyes look almost painful. And somewhere along with that reflection is the image of your father. His angry face, glaring at you and screaming why you let yourself get like this.

“Jun, have they…are they still busy?” Her eyes widen at the first words she’s heard from you, but there is sad sympathy on her face in a split second and you’ve already gotten your answer before she can say anything.

“Yes, dear. The bosses are very occupied. But they can always make time for you, hm? They care about you a lot, you know.” Jun’s statement makes you frown, but you don’t retort. Maybe you used to think that they cared, but now it just felt like their kindness was out of obligation. They felt guilty for sending you back to your father. Or perhaps they used to care for you. But now...you weren’t so sure.

When she manages to get you downstairs, in the kitchen, and set you in front of a bowl of soup, the boys are nowhere to be found. Jun tells you they’re out doing business and you tell yourself you’re not hurt that they hadn’t even noticed your absence for the past two days.

They’re just roped up in other things, that’s all.

After your shower and meal, Jun insisted that you take a stroll around the garden, and specifically instructed you to check out the new peony bush she had just planted. She mentioned it was per request of the seven bosses, but you had a hard time believing any of them would be concerned with something like that during this time. They hadn’t even made the time to talk to you.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to be outside and breathe in fresh air until you stepped out into the grassy space. Even though the solitude was getting to be too much, you were experiencing a newfound peace that you wanted to keep for as long as possible. Jun was right, and the peony bush was absolutely gorgeous. You actually feel like an alive and functioning human being. It was surprising that you were so dependent on the boys that without them, falling apart was inevitable. But now you were coherent and not so drowned in your toxic mentality (you’ll have to thank Jun profusely later), and you feel determined to talk to them again. About going back to therapy, no matter how useless it felt back then, and try to get on your own two feet. Now that you had seen and felt how serious it was, you wouldn’t be so complicit if they tried to silence you.

From over the tall hedges, the sounds of wheels rolling on gravel could be heard before the tense slams of car doors. The sound of Jungkook and Namjoon’s low muttering falls on your ears and though it sparks excitement inside you, you’re also fearful of what they might say. You don’t think you can handle another swift rejection like last time. Their indecipherable conversation ceases when you hear the entrance doors close, and seal them inside while you are still out here in your own world.

The white peony that’s cupped in your hand feels so fragile and soft that you don’t want to touch it anymore. It makes you think of them. Of how delicate it feels recently and how you’re so deathly afraid of them changing their minds one day and kicking you out with nowhere to go. Maybe you’ll just wander around again. There’s a distant cousin in the states also, but you’d have to figure out how to get out of the country without alerting your father. You shake yourself out of your intrusive thoughts.

No way your boys would do that to you.

Right?

The way back from the garden to the house is brief, but your anxiety about talking to them lengthens the trips and the feet feel like miles. You are wrapped up in your thoughts the entire way, and when you make your way into the house, you almost don’t notice the angry voices that are bouncing off the walls. It sounds like Taehyung is yelling, and the sound curdles your stomach. You hate it when people yell. It just reminds you of your father.

You follow the commotion to the kitchen, extra cautious and apprehensive. The sheer volume of their reprimanding seems to shake the house and your hands begin to quiver as you get closer. Peeking out from behind a wall, their backs are to you but you can see the face of a sheepish boy who hangs his head, gaze glued to the floor as the seven men continue to berate him. You recognize him as one of the newer members that was initiated a couple weeks ago; you’ve talked to him a couple times and he was never anything but courteous. He looks like he’s about to cry and it makes your heart ache.

Your attention pans back to the seven out of shock. The only time you’ve seen them this angry was at the meeting with your father, so you can only imagine what that young boy has done to land himself in this position.

“I told you a fucking million times too many, Lee. I told you to check in with the shipments as soon as they arrived in Myeongdong. So imagine my fucking surprise when I get a call notifying me that they’re all missing. Stolen.” Namjoon’s voice cuts straight through the room. His fists are clenched and even from the back, you can tell the expression on his face is one of scalding fury.

A shipment? They’re this infuriated over a shipment?

“I-I’m sorry, Boss. Please, I...please forgive me. I know it’s no excuse but I’m new here, a-and I swear this will not happen again.” He shrinks into himself and you quietly whimper in sympathy.

Yoongi humorlessly chuckles. “You swear? The only valuable thing you have to swear on is your life. And even that’s not worth much.”

It’s moments like these that you forget how cruel and ruthless they can be. They’ve always been so soft and gentle with you before, you forget they are mafia bosses overseeing an entire empire. That they’ve gotten here for a reason. You forget that people fear them. But you remember now.

Lee stays silent and still refuses to look up, but you can see the way his knees shake uncontrollably. He is one person standing up against 7 huffing bulls, so angry they can’t see straight so if you - tiny and meek you - has to be the one to come to his defense, so be it.

Because you’ve been that person going head to head with a bull. You see yourself, terrified and regretful, in Lee. And you’ll be damned if you have to watch and not do anything about it. Your heart beats thunderously in your chest but you push past the fear.

Their heads all snap up in surprise when you march into the kitchen and stand in between them and the boy, who looks even more painfully young up close and sporting that deer-in-the-headlights expression. You lock gazes with each of them, swallowing your nerves before speaking.

“Is it really that big of a deal to yell at him like this? Look at him”, you gesture to the cowering person behind you, “don’t you think he’s had enough?” Your voice is still soft, and such a contrast to their angry ones. But it seems like your gentle tone just makes them even angrier, and snaps them out of their initial shock.

“A big deal? He cost us thousands in shipments! I’d say that’s a pretty big fucking deal to me, Y/N.” Jungkook bursts out, exasperatedly running his hands through his hair and looking at you with an angry frown. You flinch at his volume. The stress on their shoulders is more apparent than ever.

“Why are you defending him, Y/N? You don’t even know who he is”, Jimin spits, growing even more irritated. There’s a hint of jealousy in his words and it’s so subtle that you don’t even notice it.

“I know that he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like this for a little mistake. One that I’m sure he is regretful of making.” It suddenly feels daunting when you realize that you’re going up against all of them, and now, they’re all staring at you with the same anger that was meant for the one that messed up their shipments.

“And what if that mistake is a sign that he’s traitorous? Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised. Seems like that’s a trend going around here.” From behind you, Lee is quick to open his mouth and begin to protest, but you interrupt and speak strongly. It seems this disciplining session has morphed into a full blown argument between you and them.

“It was one person. I get that it’s shitty, and I’m sorry it happened. I understand that you have to be on watch now and extra cautious. I do.” You sigh, a pleading look in your eyes but they remain stone cold.

“But one person did that. Are you going to treat everyone like they betrayed you? Are you going to treat me like I betrayed you?”

“I don’t know Y/N, you were so quick to defend him. Maybe you did. I wouldn't put it past you.”

Taehyung’s words run through you like a hot knife to butter. You almost stagger back at the shock. You’re no stranger to hurtful words but when they are coming out of his mouth, it hurts tenfold. How could they think you would betray them?

They promised to trust you, didn’t they? They promise they’d believe you after they failed to the first time. Now it just feels like you’re that spoiled little rich girl again in their eyes, standing in front of them and pleading your innocence.

“W-what? No, I-”

“You know nothing about our world, Y/N. You can’t possibly understand.” Jin’s silver voice is colder than you’re ever heard it.

“I know that, but could you just please-”

“As a matter of fact, this is a mafia business matter”, Yoongi shoots, poisoned words designed to hurt.

“I’m not sure why you’re here at all, Y/N. Just leave.”

Gone is the strong persona that you had put up to protect this young boy. Gone is the confident woman who thought she had the will to stand up for herself, much less someone else. You can only keep your eyes glued to Yoongi, and hope that he doesn’t see your heart crumbling right in front of him. How had he aimed mindlessly at your insecurities, and shot a bullseye into the biggest one?

Maybe you did, Y/N. I wouldn’t put it past you.

Blame it on the blurriness through your tears or the sheer shock running through your veins, but you can’t find one smidgen of regret or guilt in his expression. On any of their faces. Just anger and annoyance, aimed directly at you. And suddenly the spacious mansion feels all too suffocating.

You know nothing about our world Y/N.

The words you plan to say die on the tip of your tongue, as quickly as they came. There is nothing that comes out and in the aching silence of it all, the way you maintain eye contact with each of them speaks volumes. Yet they are blind to the way you are ripping at the seams, and oblivious to the turmoil they are putting you through. The coldness of their gaze and words shoot through your core, like a blade of ice piercing through your heart.

I’m not sure why you’re here at all.

Just leave.

In short, right at this moment, they look like strangers. Strangers who know what scares you, what foods you don’t like, your favorite flowers, your favorite color. Strangers who have seen your heart, welcomed it, and who were now crushing it in front of you.

What a fool you were to think that they could reciprocate your feelings.

What a fool you were to think that they wanted you as much as you wanted them.

Your pained chuckle is a discordant sound in the tense quiet. Their stares burn on your skin and though you are trying so hard to now show how utterly broken you feel, you wonder if they even notice. when you look back into the eyes of the boy directly in front of you, he is still so angry and red you find it hard to believe anything but your alleged cold, hard truth:

The seven boys you have fallen in love with utterly despise you. Perhaps they always have.

“Yeah”, you whisper brokenly. “Maybe I will.”

taglist: @pinkyhim, @deolly, @loveyoongles, @drunkzseok, @hope122598, @uwunamjoon, @nomimits7, @bubblebunnylia, @aquaalanah, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever, @btsbabby, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona, @jeoncookie-bts, @annoyingpessimist, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh, @btstxtgenre, @taesugaar, @hxsxxk-180294, @bubbletae7, @uglyratlmao, @hopetookmysoul, @supertweetycherry, @missseoulite, @barbikatherine, @jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes, @sunsetsnsirens-blog, @vanilla-smash, @lmaosani, @onionhaseyeo, @i-dumb-bitch, @euphxriajoon, @justpeachyjoon, @dabbingangels, @h5naaa, @parkmaeri, @softescapism, @bena-baby, @myjiminmychimchim , @moments-of-melancholy, @krystle1990, @chatsgotmytongue, @vi-hoshi, @unlikelylittlemiss, @rosey-roseau, @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag, @kookiebbyxx,

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mashnotesofthemythopoeic · 4 years ago

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Fic Masterpost

So, in the spirit of full disclosure - all the X-Files fiction I’ve ever written, as memory serves. And some thoughts on how this fine fandom has taught me to write.

Starbuck (circa 1998)

I’m not kidding, this is really embarrassing, absolute beginner stuff, but we all start somewhere and it’s interesting in an evolutionary sense. I found these on Zuffy's X-Files Homepage.

Without The Bee - I couldn’t bring myself to look at this one. That title says it all.

Agents of Change: Return from Antarctica - Obsessions—the Scott Expedition and the X-Files—collide. Rough early days, but probably with hints of potential. A legit turkey of a title!

Penumbra 1998 - 2009

(I’m not going to bother with Gossamer links.) Learning the ropes as I went. Oblivious to so, oh so many things. Rickety, untrained writing, but mindlessly in love with creatively inspired by the churlish charms of our two razzle-dazzle creatures of the night.

Contact High - The last line was plagiarized, pure and simple, from one of Gerald Durrell’s books about his childhood in Corfu. It’s bothered me ever since, so the big thing I took from this experience: by all means steal the rhythm of something, but at least change a word or two.

Vespers - Very stoned ramblings. Inspired by John Leonard’s X-Files essay in The Nation that I’d managed to extract off a microfiche in a university library. I have a soft spot for this fic, probably because Khyber picked it very analytically apart, which was like having Jonathan Galassi or someone suddenly pay attention to you. He introduced me to 'show, don't tell', a paralyzing concept if ever there was one, which I yet only fitfully grasp.

Black Hole Season - Still breakin’ all the rules. This one was hugely popular, and amidst all the ballyhoo, Punk Maneuverability emailed me and quietly said: ‘Please pick a POV and a tense and stick with it’—vastly important advice that I was probably too full of myself to heed. This one won a Spooky award, one of the greatest moments of my life that I had to keep completely to myself (therein lies the painful crux of fanfiction.)

Parabiosis - I was eating cereal and flipping through the dictionary, and there it was: parabiosis. Who knows what it means. I didn’t have a computer, and was working in the mountains, so I wrote the whole thing out on paper several times, unimaginable now. It flowed through my brain as I scrambled through the woods in the evenings. Nothing will ever be that easy again.

Honeymoon Video - Promising title, not much there.

Blue-Sky Conjecture - unfinished Scully/Kresge

The Cretan Paradox - Americana. JET sent me an ear of corn from a corn maze, because she’s thoughtful like that.

Free Beer Night at the Astrodome - Cut years ago in despair out of Heuvelmans’; I think part of it went back in.

Fathoms Five - In one of Gerald Durrell’s books about his childhood in Corfu, his brother steps in a swamp and says that his shoe is ‘full of fathoms five’, so that’s where I got that Shakespearean misquote. I resisted writing this for a long time, but it would creep into my mind as I was falling asleep. I think this is a pretty good story, but it could have used one more draft, so since then, I’ve resolved never to rush to post. Events of this year kind of date this story now. However, it’s rather pleasant to read about a careless, joint-passing, COVID-free 2020.

Fathoms Five Outtakes and gag reels - Sorry about the glitchy old site and bad font.

A random smut biscuit - Uncharacteristic, I know!

Octopods - I loved this one, but it never fit in anywhere.

Maundy Thursday

Untitled Snippet

World’s Tiniest Zombie Fic

∩dsᴉpɐᴉsᴉnɯ - Very flawed, because it was written and posted under a fund-raiser time crunch. I really should overhaul it. The X-Files was ending and I was so depressed when I wrote it, and that’s an unfortunate tincture to saddle a story with.

The Inscrutable Pair - How The X-Files taught me to embrace ambiguity. Goreyesque nonsense à la Gashlycrumb Tinies that also troubles itself to rip off Eliot and Homer.

(7-Year Cold-Turkey Hiatus From the X-Files)

Gave away DVDs, got some perspective, did a little growing up, tried and failed to write a screenplay, two novels, etc. Then they put The X-Files on Netflix. One lonely night, I thought: what could it hurt to watch Darkness Falls? 44 minutes later, with shaking hands, going for the hard stuff—Redux II. Lol, the hard stuff of ancient philes.

The Mythopoeic* 2016 -

Heuvelmans’ On the Track - The nearly suicidal heartbreak that surrounds this story—it was the first X-Files fic I got bogged down in and couldn’t finish, and it left me with a huge mental stigma—sweetens its completion. Under its shadow I tried to become a Real Writer, without success. Give things time, I learned. Just keep working hard. The initial failure of this story taught me stuff that I now wouldn’t trade for anything.

*I came back just intending to hang out with Philes, and didn’t want to make a big deal, and had no intention of posting fic, so I gave little thought to the name. But, characteristically ostentatious name, check. Still keepin’ it real, pure and self-taught, a bit closer to what Chuck Palahniuk calls a ‘kitchen-table MFA’. Check.

But what I really want to say is this. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to try writing if I hadn’t been in this marvelous fandom, having the method and the means demonstrated all around me by wonderfully competent and encouraging writers for whom I felt such reverence that having them reach out or comment on stuff was earth-shaking. They showed the way, and I followed. Hands on my heart, friends, I owe you everything.

#reblogging because @perplexistan pointed out a snippet I missed #plus I remembered #Maundy Thursday #also #World's Tiniest Zombie Fic #and Blue-Sky Conjecture

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pcisondapple-a · 3 years ago

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‘ open up ‘ (ONE OF THE WOLF DADS ;-;)

SEND ME ‘ OPEN UP ‘ FOR A DRABBLE OF MY MUSE TALKING ABOUT ONE OF THE MOST TRAUMATIC MEMORIES IN THEIR LIFE…

snow isn't one to fall into suspicion, or god forbid paranoia. however, the concept of grief always seemed to find new ways to open uncharacteristic versions of herself. it's a kind of pain that has nowhere else to go, no purpose except the invention of blame that was in truth, beyond her control.

“ you know how they say when someone you really love is in trouble, you can feel it? ” the princess' puffy, red eyes do not meet with the old wolf's, keeping herself busy with the needle and thread in her delicate, white hands. walter had been complaining of pain earlier, nothing unusual from the elderly wolf. but for some reason, today it sent the princess into a flurry of trepidation, fussing over him to the point he was aggravated and she was in tears.

it was shameful, really. walter wasn't fragile! he was self sufficient and had enough to worry about without her adding to the uncertainty. and she was supposed to be ever-hopeful. unmoving.

“ i didn't feel anything when marie had gone-- ” air rushes crudely into her lungs at disclosure and she bites the inside of her cheek. “ i should have known-- but i didn't. ”

a troubling vision, a gnawing anxiety, a form of foresight that only a bond of true love can provide-- SOMETHING that would let her know! but no, it had been a happy day for her prior to the news; the obliviousness of her past self makes her sick. and how the beautiful wolf loved her, stood beside her when "walt's folly" was being thrown around. she was a true friend. a mother. had she really loved her if she couldn't even be there in her final moments?

“ and it wasn't just her. ” she's not sewing anymore, just gripping the sharp tool in her thumb and index finger until it leaves a mark. “ everyone.. who had gone. they just- i wasn't there. ”

she was never there. sure she was present at the times before, making memories. making relationships. but she was never there-- in their place, and she never would be. all she’ll ever experience is the same feeling of shock and loss that came with another one slipping away in her ignorance.

#tw grief #i'm wishing. : IC #echos from the well. : ASKS.#musemelodies : walter #musemelodies #//WELP #//nothing like a chronic truama

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news4bees · 4 years ago

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Things I do to make my ADD/ADHD slightly more manageable.

Full disclosure: everyone is different and non-neurotypical behaviors are not a copy-paste situation. What works for me might put others in the exact opposite head space and that’s okay. I just wanted to share what I’ve learned works for me over the years. I’ve been really struggling with my ADD/ADHD lately and I need to remind myself of the healthy coping mechanisms I’ve developed so I can implement them again.

1. Have a morning routine.

Working from home as a freelance editor / publishing consultant, I have a lot of autonomy over my day. Which is great… if I make the most of it. I learned a long time ago that I am most productive in the morning, so it’s important for me to get myself into the right head space as soon as possible. I set an alarm to get out of bed at 7:00am every day, I try and go on a walk around the neighborhood first thing (weather permitting—we don’t mess around with rain or snow), I eat breakfast (usually including either coffee or tea for caffeine purposes and warmth) and take my supplements, and prep for my day. It sounds super simple, but it’s really all about inertia. A body at rest will want to stay at rest. I’ve had just as many days where everything goes according to plan and I’m able to have a productive day as days where I don’t get out of bed until I have to drag myself to my service job in the afternoon. So having that morning routine and sticking to it can honestly be a night and day difference for me.

2. Make a schedule for my day.

I have a terrible concept of time. I can look at a task, assume it’s going to take several hours, and abandon it before I even begin. Or I can see a gap of time in my day (such as the two hours between lunch and when I have to get ready for work) and be worried it’s too small of a window to accomplish anything so I lie around instead. By creating a schedule, literally an hour-by-hour layout of how I want my day to progress, I have a tactical roadmap for how to achieve my goals. I also make sure I schedule little breaks and time to eat, walk around, shower, etc. into my day so I don’t forget. It doesn’t have to be perfect, and I have to remind myself not to get upset if I end up deviating from the schedule for one thing or another. It’s mainly supposed to help me look at my day in a way that makes more sense to me and how my brain processes time. I fully understand that there are others that might see my hour-by-hour schedule and be completely overwhelmed—that’s fine! Find what works for you.

3. Set attainable little goals.

This one goes hand in hand with making myself a schedule. If I have a giant task I need to complete at a future date, I really struggle with conceptualizing it as something I need to get started on now. I see that future date, feel overwhelmed, try to calm myself down by thinking, “It’s okay, I have time,” and will sit on that task until the last minute when I have to scramble to get it done. It’s procrastination, yes, but it’s also not feeling too overwhelmed to act on something until there is that “go go go!” anxiety-inducing pressure to get it done. So I break it down into smaller pieces and set little goals. A 352 page manuscript I have to create an index for by March? Scary. But indexing one or two chapters a day? Much more doable. This also helps me accomplish non work-related tasks, such as calling the bank or scheduling appointments or canceling a subscription—things I would have trouble accomplishing on my own otherwise because my I have trouble differentiating between “important” and “immediate”. Goals don’t have to be solely task oriented either. Set a goal to reach out to a friend you haven’t connected with in a while; set a goal to meditate for fifteen minutes, or be intentional about doing something you love like reading or art or exercise. Personally, the more things I can check off my “to-do” list the better, so I write out everything I want to try and get done, even if I would have done it regardless.

4. Keep distractions out of reach.

This one is extremely tricky for me since I work exclusively out of my room since I moved back home. I’m always surrounded by distractions, from my phone to my bookshelves to the dozens of internet tabs I constantly have open on my laptop. I have little tricks I know work for me: keeping my phone on the charger in a different room (but close enough that I can still connect to the Bluetooth), leaving the book I’m currently reading and the journal where I write my fiction in my work bag downstairs, blocking YouTube and other distracting sites from my laptop, and making my bed each morning so I’m not tempted to crawl under the covers when I’m feeling burnt out. But knowing these things will help eliminate distractions and actually implementing these techniques are two very different things for me. As I write this, my phone is on the charger next to me, my fiction journal is within easy reach and I have corresponding document opened in another tab, none of my site-brokers are enabled, and my bed is a mess of cozy blankets—all major distractions for me that I’m blatantly ignoring. So what can I do about this? Set a new goal: move my phone and journal out of the room, close unnecessary tabs, re-engage the site blockers, and make my bed. Little things to reset my headspace and get back on track.

5. Have an accountability buddy.

While freelancing gives me a lot of personal freedoms, it also means I function as my own boss. Some people might enjoy such responsibility, but I personally really struggle when I’m not constantly checking in with someone and showing them my progress. An accountability buddy doesn’t need to function like a micro-managing boss, but they should be someone you can go to and say, “Here’s what I set out to do today and here’s what I accomplished.” Currently, I do not have a good accountability buddy (my ex was my accountability buddy when we were together during my last semester at college, but he often criticized me for only working in short sprints and needing to take a lot of breaks, so I’ve been really hesitant to trust another person in that role ever since), but my mom often lets me inform her about my goals and will share some of her’s in turn; my dad and sister on the other hand get uncharacteristically angry when I ask about goals, so I’ve learned to steer clear. Mirroring is also a common strategy for ADD/ADHDers. The visual stimulation of seeing someone else working can often be a bit of a jumpstart to my brain that says, “Okay, it’s time to do things.” In the old days, this meant I would spend hours in the library or at coffee shop doing my homework instead of my apartment because I was surrounded by others with similar tasks. Now, if I find myself needing a mirror I’ll move my operation to the kitchen table so that I’m closer to where my mom works and I can feed off her productive energy, so to speak.

6. Give myself grace.

Whenever I have an unproductive day, my first instinct is to be angry or upset at myself. What kind of person spends the entire day in bed and doesn’t get a single thing done? This would lead me down a self-deprecating path of calling myself useless and a garbage person, which is a big trigger for my depression and I can easily find myself spiraling. ADD/ADHD means my brain functions differently, but at the end of the day my brain still works. It doesn’t mean I’m stupid or lazy, and a bad day doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. My schedule and my list of goals are a template to help me focus, but if something happens that gets me off task, whether intentional or unintentional, I have to remind myself that it is not the end of the world. I have to give myself grace and forgiveness, because things happen.

I’d be really interested to hear what other strategies people have developed to manage their ADD/ADHD, especially in the midst of a pandemic that might have altered the way we approach our days. Keep being awesome!

#adhd brain #adhd things #adult adhd #coping mechanism

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emberbent · 4 years ago

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Book 3: Water | Chapter 1: Tenok

Shinza uttered a moan as she slurped the seaweed noodles from her soup.

Amrit arched his brow. “Should I leave you two alone?”

“I can’t help it!” she defended with her mouth full. “I haven’t had Water Tribe food since I left Republic City.”

She wafted the fragrant steam from the broth up to her nose and inhaled deeply. The little restaurant on the outskirts of the Northern Water Tribe’s capital city was quiet - that period between the lunch and dinner crowds - and they had the place nearly to themselves. Amrit watched her from his side of the table, picking at his fermented turtle-whale meat. He’d never really jived with the nuanced flavors of Water Tribe cuisine, but watching Shinza enjoy her food with such gusto, and just being with her again, was more satisfying to him than food.

Shinza finished off her noodles with admirable speed, drank the remaining broth, and found Amrit leaning forward in earnest when she finally set her bowl down.

“So fill me in! How was the temple?”

A highlight reel flashed across her mind of the events that had occurred during her training, and suddenly, she felt cold and exposed as the rapture of their reunion slipped away. “A lot happened up there.”

Sensing a story coming, Amrit poured them each a cup of tea from the cast iron pot that sat between them. “Like what?”

Spirits, where was she even supposed to start? She warmed her fingers around the little metal cup. Then she said, “You know how my chi was blocked when I came to you, and we couldn’t figure out why?”

Amrit nodded, wincing a little. “Of course.”

“It turns out my parents knew I was the Avatar,” she said. “They found out when I was little, when the accident happened. They had my memories repressed and my bending blocked so I’d grow up thinking I was a non-bender.”

“Why?” he inquired, looking as disturbed as Shinza felt. He couldn’t help but glance at her scarred hands. “How did you find out?”

She scoffed at herself. “When I miscalculated an airbending move and threw myself into a rock face.” Rolling her eyes and sipping at her tea, she continued, “I have no idea why they did it. I want to believe it was to protect me.”

“I guess that’s why it took so long for the Fire Sages to find you,” he surmised.

“I found out something else, too,” she continued. “Avatar Yeong didn’t die of an illness - he was assassinated by the Org.”

Amrit blanched. “They killed a baby?”

“Yeah,” she grunted. Her expression darkened. “They did. Which means we can’t put anything past them.”

He searched her face, looking for the worry she liked to hide. She chewed on her upper lip and stared hard at the table.

“Can I see your tattoo?” He changed the subject. She pushed up the sleeve of her thick fur coat to reveal the tattoo of Xia that wound and curled up her arm as if it were alive.

“When my parents found out I was the Avatar, they hired a former Dai Li agent to block my bending,” she explained. “I got a letter from her while I was at the temple. She said she wanted to apologize to me in person for her role in suppressing my abilities. And I went, like a fucking idiot.”

“Trap?” Amrit inquired, tracing the crisp black lines on her forearm.

“Yeah. I barely managed to get out.”

She still felt the heat of the embers as she bent them into Nobu’s eyes. Smelled the charred flesh. Heard the crack of Yanyu’s arms as she snapped them with her bare hands. “Actually, I’d be dead or worse if Xia hadn’t rescued me. Oh, by the way, I’m probably wanted for murder in Gaoling.”

“Let’s get some sake,” he offered. “You deserve it.”

He put the order in with a passing waiter, and when the little jar arrived, he poured them each a cup.

“It wasn’t all bad, though.” She managed a smile. “Korra and Jinora helped me restore the link to my past lives, and I invented my own airbending technique.”

His face lit up. “Really? That’s badass! Let’s see it.”

She squinted, trying to figure out how to scale down the move so she could politely do it inside the restaurant. “Okay,” she said. Then she made a faint gesture with her hands. “Reach for my cup.”

When he did, his fingertips met an invisible wall of solidified air. His brows rose in appreciation. “I gotta say, this suits you.”

“How so?”

“It’s a defensive move. Stealthy, inconspicuous. It uses your opponent’s own strength against them.”

Shinza beamed and accepted the praise.

“Did you miss firebending?” he teased.

She snorted. “Do you mean, did I miss you making me run drills until I puked? No, I didn’t.”

Amrit grinned mirthfully. After a beat, he sobered and said, “I wish I could have been there for you. I didn’t realize you’d gone through so much.”

Shinza swelled with affection and reached for his hand. The truth was that she wouldn’t be here with him if he hadn’t sent her off with Xia when she’d left the island. And if he hadn’t shown up at the temple when he did, she likely would have ended up wasting valuable time looking for a waterbending teacher.

“You were there for me,” she insisted. “Even if not in person. You always have been.”

The scene played again in her mind: Amrit dismounting Xia, gathering Shinza up in his arms. The flood of warmth she felt. “When you showed up at the temple this morning, I was so relieved I could have kissed you.”

“Why didn’t you?” he smirked.

Shinza felt hot blood rush to her cheeks. She ignored him, finishing the rest of her sake. “So who’s this guy we’re meeting with?”

Amrit pulled a business card out of his coat pocket and passed it to her.

“Doctor Tenok Amaruk.” She read the name aloud, smoothing her thumb over the beautifully designed card, and then frowned. “Professor of… Water Tribe Cultural History? I thought he was a waterbending teacher.”

“Mmm, no, I didn’t say that exactly,” Amrit hedged. Pinned under Shinza’s severe gaze, he buckled. “Okay, full disclosure: I don’t actually know if he’ll agree to teach you.”

Shinza tutted. “You said you’d found me a teacher!”

“I said I may have found you a teacher,” he corrected, putting his hands up in defense. “Look, don’t worry about it, okay? I’m pretty sure I can convince him.”

The outer fortress of the Northern Water Tribe’s capital city had been impressive, but it was nothing compared to the interior of the city itself. As they strode through the gates, gleaming structures made of pure ice dominated their view. Residential terraces surrounded the city center, their tenants overlooking the lively streets below. Crystal-clear water, sourced from innumerable waterfalls, flowed through the street canals. For a moment, Shinza forgot to warm herself with her breathing as she took in the splendor of the Water Tribe Chief’s palace ahead of them, glinting like an enormous diamond in the sunlight.

They stepped into a gondola, which ferried them to the university, where they were to meet Dr. Amaruk. Amrit looked uncharacteristically nervous.

“What’s your deal?” Shinza whispered.

“Nothing,” he returned. “I’m good.”

The University of the Northern Water Tribe boasted a sprawling campus, all sparkling blue buildings made of ice and smooth, snowy courtyards. The semester was coming to a close, and students milled about, rushing to their final exams. Amrit and Shinza made their way to the main building that housed the faculty’s offices and checked in with a secretary, who offered them a seat while they waited for their meeting time. After a few moments, the secretary motioned for them to go into the office.

Tenok Amaruk was a middle-aged man, willowy, and much taller than both Amrit and Shinza. He wore a smart set of tailored garments - an artful combination of current and centuries-old Water Tribe fashion, trimmed with fur and handmade beads. They all settled into their chairs. The professor pinned Amrit like a fly across the desk with his sharp silver eyes.

“It’s been a long time, Mr. Han.” He inclined his head with stiff politeness, ignoring Shinza completely. “How can I help you?”

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Amrit returned the gesture. “I’d like to introduce you to the Avatar, Shinza Kwon.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Shinza greeted, mustering as warm a smile as she could despite the look of pure disgust Dr. Amaruk wore as he gave her a cold once-over.

He grunted. “And what exactly is it that you want from me, Miss Kwon?”

“I’ve just finished my airbending training,” she replied, getting down to business. She wasn’t afraid of this asshole, but she didn’t want to be here any longer than she had to be. “We came in from the Eastern Air Temple this morning. As you know, the next element in line is water, so… I’d like you to teach me waterbending.”

She looked askance at Amrit, who had clearly passed off leading the meeting to her and looked to be sweating bullets. He was usually so self-assured and confident - what was his deal?

Dr. Amaruk glanced at her expressionlessly from behind his little circular frames. “Absolutely not.” Then he took to the stack of ungraded papers on the corner of his desk with a red pen. “You may see yourselves out.”

Quiet fury rose up in Shinza. With her fists clenched, she rose from her seat and started for the door. She saw no sense in wasting time on someone who clearly had no interest in teaching her, or treating her like a human.

“Ten,” Amrit beseeched. The old nickname caught the professor’s attention and made Shinza pause. “Please.”

Tenok put down his pen, daring Amrit to go on.

“The Organization is out in full force in Republic City. They have cells operating in the Earth Kingdom and spirits know where else. She’s already over ten years behind, and the semester is almost over anyway.”

“I need your help,” she admitted through her clenched teeth. “The Org murdered Avatar Yeong, and now they’re out for me. I need to learn waterbending as soon as possible.”

Tenok took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. Then he said, “Fine.”

Shinza’s jaw relaxed and she came back to her seat.

Amrit looked like he wanted to fold up into his chair and disappear. “So what’s next?”

“You tell me, Mr. Han,” Tenok replied with a thin smile.

“I guess we’ll get accommodations in the city. And then --”

“You’ll both stay with me,” Tenok sighed, waving his hand as if Amrit were speaking nonsense. “If the Organization is rallying as you say, we can’t be certain there aren’t also cells here in the North. It’s safest to stay out of plain sight.”

Shinza and Amrit trudged back across campus and headed to the part of town where Tenok lived. The air between them was fraught.

“Do you want to explain to me what the hell that was all about?” Shinza laid into him as they stepped into the gondola. She still trembled with carefully-bridled rage remembering the way the professor had treated both of them. “That was the weirdest fucking meeting I’ve ever been to in my life!”

Amrit opened his mouth but then closed it, defeated. He leaned forward and let his head fall into his hands in shame. “I didn’t think it would go that way. I’m sorry.”

Shinza wasn’t satisfied. “But why him? Why not someone else? Anyone else?”

“Do you know any other waterbending masters?” Amrit lashed out. All of his emotions glimmered in his dark eyes as he met her gaze. “I thought maybe the past could stay in the past, okay? The embarrassment is bad enough. I don’t need to be grilled.”

She crossed the boat and settled next to him. She said softly, “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me you had history with this guy.”

He shook his head. “It’s complicated, I guess.”

A moment passed, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “That was hard for you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.”

Something else Amrit had left out was the fact that Tenok lived in a mansion. It was modest compared to the ones occupied by important government officials and the like; but it was large enough that Shinza could wander off by herself, free to choose her bedroom from the numerous ones available.

Amrit was careful about the one he selected. In the end, he chose one down the hall from Shinza - not too far away from the main bedroom, but not too close. He and Shinza may have worked things out, but he had no idea where he stood with Tenok.

He unpacked his things and then took a walk around the house. Some things had changed - repairs had been made, more Water Tribe artifacts had been hung up on the walls. But by and large, the house was exactly the same as he remembered it from over a decade ago. The sight of it brought back memories he hadn’t let himself think about for a long time.

He found himself out on a terrace that faced the city center. It was midday, and the polar sun was setting. Amrit let out an exhausted sigh and settled into a chair, grimacing as he worked to pry off The Leg, whose metal had contracted painfully due to the frigid temperature. He winced and rubbed at the sore, blistered skin just below his knee, where his shin ended.

“I can’t decide if I should feel sorry for you, or if you deserve it,” Tenok sounded behind him.

Amrit tensed. Tenok came around to settle in the chair next to him, sizing up the younger man with his leonine gaze. With surprising tenderness, he asked, “Why did you come back?”

“Shinza needed a waterbending teacher,” Amrit replied half-heartedly.

“Is that so?” Tenok replied. Amrit had changed since he’d last seen him. He was a man with a purpose now, with mirth in his eyes. Tenok continued, “You made a fool of me today.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“Was it foolish to think you had come back to me? After all this time?”

Amrit chanced a glance at Tenok. His heart ached for seeing him again, and for all the memories that overtook him. Tenok was older, thinner. He still wore his hair the same - long, tidy dreadlocks that rested nobly on his shoulders and fell down his back, some tied up into a dignified cascade at the back of his head. But at his temples, the once salt-and-pepper hair had turned white. There were frown lines around his mouth; it pained Amrit to think he might have given him those.

Amrit stood carefully, making his way on his good leg to lean on the balcony. “I’m sorry I left.”

“I’m not angry that you left!” Tenok replied, incredulous that Amrit could be so thick. He joined him at the balcony. “You had a life to return to. I understood that. But you didn’t even say goodbye.”

That wasn’t true; he’d had no life to return to. Gao and his unborn children had been taken from him. He hadn’t yet assumed his father’s position teaching the fledgling firebenders. His identity as a husband and father had been shattered. Tenok’s comforting warmth had been sutures for the gaping wound in his soul, and he simply couldn’t have withstood losing him, too. So he’d ripped the sutures out himself. After he’d left, he hadn’t gone back to the island; instead, he’d wandered the Earth Kingdom, lost as he’d ever been.

Amrit locked eyes with him. Tenok melted at the feel of his calloused fingers brushing his sharp jawline. “You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Tenok gathered him up in his arms, holding him tightly. Amrit let go of the railing and leaned against him for balance. He snaked his arms around the older man’s waist, comforted by his familiar peppery tobacco scent.

“I accept your apology,” Tenok whispered in return. “Would you sit down, please?”

Amrit hobbled back to his seat. Tenok glanced at his leg. “I can help, if you’ll allow me.”

Amrit hesitated, but then conceded. “I’d be grateful.”

Tenok lifted his leg onto his lap and melted some of the ice nearby, warming the water and letting it coat his hand. It glowed blue with potent healing energy, and Amrit immediately relaxed under Tenok’s hand. The professor worked carefully at the end of his leg, gently softening the tensed muscles and repairing the blistered skin.

Amrit closed his eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”

@chromecutie @hetapeep41 @jaymzbush @my-remedy-is-euphoria

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eleanor-writes-stuff · 5 years ago

Text

the way you make me feel (is kinda annoying, actually) - ONE-SHOT

Rey’s childhood leaves her with a warped defense mechanism, the kind that makes it hard to trust people and leaves her suspicious of all kindness and frames even the most basic human wants and needs as a weakness.

So naturally, she doesn’t have the best reaction to her instant connection with her new TA.

(In other words, Rey’s not sure who she’s more annoyed at: Ben Solo for being so attractive, or herself for being so attracted to him.)

Here’s a (hopefully!) fun modern college AU in which Rey really, really doesn’t want to be attracted to Ben Solo but oh no, she is anyway. Oh, and what’s this? Actual feelings on top of physical attraction?? Double oh no. (Yeah, full disclosure: this is not my best work.)

Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter or Ko-fi?

“So then he took me to this underground poker night thing, and I swear I saw Professor Ackbar at one of the tables–”

Finn’s retelling of his fourth date with Poe is cut short when he bumps into Rey, who’s just bumped into Rose, who’s abruptly come to a complete standstill in the very doorway of their lecture hall.

“Rose, what’s–”

“Guys, look!” Rose whisper-screams before Rey can ask why she’s suddenly decided to do her best impression of a live statue. “New TA alert!” she squeals as quietly as one can in a half-empty room with at least sixty other people present, pointing at Hux’s usual desk in the corner in the least subtle way known to mankind.

“Thank fuck,” Finn cheers a little too loudly, garnering them curious looks from other students filing into the room. “One more day with Hux and I would’ve gotten rid of that weasel myself.”

Rey is vaguely aware of Rose scoffing at his bold proclamation and Finn defending himself, but all of that fades into background noise when she finally catches sight of the newcomer occupying the TA’s desk. He appears to be completely focused on a pile of loose papers spread before him, allowing Rey’s eyes to rove over his dark curls, furrowed brow, prominent nose, plush lips…

Thankfully, Rose puts an end to her uncharacteristic gawking before the man himself notices by hooking their arms together and leading Rey to their usual seats in the third row, cheerfully greeting familiar faces as they pass. And Rose isn't the only one handing out bright smiles and friendly laughter – the air of relief, of sheer joy in the room is palpable, after weeks of suffering through Hux’s miserable presence and the uncertainty of not knowing if Holdo and the dean would side with a bunch of undergrads over one of their own.

Really, Rey muses as everyone settles into their seats and Holdo sweeps into the room precisely on time as always, they should’ve known better than to doubt their professor.

“Good morning, everyone!” Holdo calls out, her gentle, lilting voice accompanied by a blinding smile. “Before we start, let’s address the white elephant in the room, shall we? Armitage Hux, as I’m sure you’ve all noticed given the general air of celebration in this room, has been removed from his position as TA. He has also been removed from the department, and in fact from this campus entirely. His unethical and discriminatory actions and what they represent go against everything I, the dean, and this university stand for, and I can only offer you my sincerest apologies for not catching onto his behavior sooner.”

“But I can promise you this debacle will never happen again, certainly not on my watch and not on Mr. Solo’s here,” she says, gesturing at the man sitting just behind her. “And on that note, I’d like to introduce you to your new TA for this semester. Ben, why don’t you come up and say a few words?”

The man – Ben Solo, apparently – nods with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, but plasters on a polite smile and proceeds to stand up anyway.

“Jesus Christ,” Rose mutters as Ben walks toward Holdo. “Is there a height requirement to TA this class or something?”

Rey merely shrugs, her eyes intent on following the movements of this absolute mountain of a man. Because sure, Hux had been ridiculously tall too, but Ben Solo… Ben Solo is a whole different breed, tall and broad and built and…

Oh no, he’s hot.

Blood rushes to Rey’s cheeks at the realization that she finds her new TA attractive, broad shoulders and lush hair and thick lips and all, and of course that’s the exact moment his eyes happen to meet hers.

“Hi, everyone,” he says, and Rey can’t even bring herself to react to his voice because he appears to be addressing her directly, making her skin prickle and her throat dry and her heart pound. She drops her eyes down to her hands, and doesn’t look up until she feels him look away. “Um, I’m Ben and, as Amilyn here just mentioned, I’ll be your TA for the rest of this semester. I’m also a second-year grad student here at Chandrila U, so uh, that’s one thing I guess we have in common. Oh, and I’m really, really glad Hux is gone too, so make that two things.”

Faint laughter ripples through the room, and the effect it has on Ben is devastating: his eyes light up, his smile relaxes into something closer to a grin, and a little puff of laughter escapes him. What makes all of this ten times worse is the fact that he’s looking at her again, and Rey nearly gives into the smile tugging at her lips in response before she realizes what she’s doing.

She quickly puts a brake on the stupid, girly smile and twists her lips into a scowl instead, internally berating her apparent lack of self-restraint. She’s been attracted to people before, and it’s never fun brushing that aside and pretending nothing’s amiss, but this… this is stupid on so many levels: this is a man she doesn’t know, this is a man in charge of her grades, this is a man she absolutely cannot allow herself to crush on, no matter how deep his voice is or how distracting his lips are or how compelling the sad look in his eyes–

Belatedly, Rey realizes that she’d forgotten to duck her head while lost in thought and that she now appears to have been scowling at her new TA for the past ten seconds for no reason at all.

This is what happens when she allows outsiders and hormones and feelings to complicate things.

She looks away then, and scrutinizes the abysmal state of her nails until a scraping sound indicates that Ben Solo is once again safely tucked away in his little corner desk. The next time she looks up, Holdo has returned to the lectern and is pulling up her slides for the day.

Class passes by in a flash after that, as it always does. Holdo is known for interactive and informative lectures that are always succinct and lively, making her a campus favorite. It’s the reason why Rey, along with more than a third of her classmates, opted for a notoriously heavy poli-sci class as their elective in spite of all the ‘easier’ options available to them, and it’s a decision she’s almost never regretted.

And with Armitage Hux, TA from hell, abuser of power, and thinly-veiled racist/sexist/classist pig, finally gone, Rey can now confidently say she has zero regrets about signing up for this class.

At the end of lecture, Amilyn raises her voice to be heard above the din of nearly a hundred and fifty students rushing to pack up and hurry to their next class or lunch. “One last thing! Ben and I have been hard at work all weekend regrading your papers in light of Hux’s misconduct, and your new grades will be available in an hour’s time. All right, class dismissed!”

Sitting in the third row gives Rey and her friends the distinct advantage of being closer to the doors, allowing them to rush out before everyone else gets stuck at the bottleneck. Today, though, another person manages to make it out with them.

Ben Solo passes through the doors at the exact same moment as her, his arm brushing her shoulder as they walk out. He murmurs an apology, one Rey is fully prepared to acknowledge with a simple, wordless nod, only to follow it up with a question. “Rey Niima, right?”

Her name said in that voice, coming from those lips, has Rey twisting her face into a grimace in reaction to the unusual fluttery feeling in her stomach right now.

“Yes,” she says, directing a glare at the retreating backs of her traitor friends scurrying down the hallway to avoid the TA before she turns to face him. “That’s me. Is something wrong?” Rey asks a little too sharply, courtesy of a lifetime of learning to hide her uncertainty and weakness behind a façade of ice-cold irritation and aloofness.

A sharp spike of regret lances through her when the slight smile on Ben’s face wavers.

“No, nothing’s wrong, not at all,” he mumbles without quite looking at her. “Sorry, it’s just… I recognized you because of Poe, Poe Dameron?”

It makes sense, Rey supposes, that the two grad students would know each other. But then wouldn’t he recognize Finn and Rose as well?

“And I just…” Ben runs a hand through his hair with a heavy exhale, and Rey’s fingers twitch with the impulse, the want, to do the same. She curls them into her palm instead, digging into her skin so hard she knows she’ll leave a set of angry red crescents behind. “Um, I just wanted to say… your paper was exemplary. If there was any doubt before that Hux was unfairly marking you guys, his treatment of your essay would’ve been proof enough.”

“Oh,” Rey says softly, completely taken aback by this unexpected turn of events. She’s also relieved, so relieved to know that she’s passing this assignment after all – exemplary, he’d said – that the tension in her shoulders just… melts away.

Ben seems to take that as a sign of encouragement, because he barrels through the rest of his thoughts. “The connection between neoliberalism and the shrinking welfare state isn’t new, but the way you wrote about it and the strength of your arguments and the sheer scope of your knowledge and the way you defend your stance – it’s just… the paper really stands out, in a class most people are just taking as an elective. That’s all,” he concludes almost sheepishly, clearly cutting himself off to keep it short.

And Rey, Rey can feel herself straining toward him like a flower to the sun, her starved soul eagerly lapping up every last drop of validation and praise. But…

But old habits die hard, and her first instinct is still to treat kindness – especially unwarranted, unexpected kindness – with suspicion and casualness, to pretend that his words have no effect on her.

So she shrugs and says, “Elective or not, it still affects my overall grade.” And then, because she likes to think she’s made some progress in the last three years, Rey allows herself a barely-there smile and adds, “So um, I’m glad to hear I did well. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Oh, uh, sure, no problem–”

She’s already turning away as he speaks, intent on getting the hell out of here before she can do something stupid like actually smile at him or get lost in his eyes or give him any hint of how much the opinion of a total stranger means to her.

“Yeah, thanks again, see you around!” Rey tosses over her shoulder, and wills herself not to break into a run as she chases after her friends, who have been waiting just around the corner like the absolute assholes that they are.

“Oh my god, Finn,” Rose squeals as Rey catches up to them. “Is she blushing? I think someone’s blushing,” she adds in a sing-song voice.

Finn laughs and teasingly jostles her as the three of them fall into step. “I didn’t even know you were capable of turning this pink, peanut!”

“I hate you both,” Rey mutters at her friends, but even their knowing looks can’t keep her from turning back to get one last glimpse at Ben.

He’s still standing where she’d left him, looking completely still… and lost.

Rey almost allows herself to feel bad for him.

❄ ❄ ❄

Their subsequent interactions don’t go any better.

The second time they meet outside of class, it’s for a quick feedback session that she’d taken three whole days to talk herself into setting up. Rey splashes cold water on her face ten minutes before Ben’s office hours start, takes deep, calming breaths throughout her short journey from the library to the grad student lounge, and instantly regrets every single life choice she’s ever made when she walks in to find him waiting for her.

Even worse, he appears to be genuinely happy to see her, spinning around in his chair to greet her with a wide smile.

And worst of all, he’s traded in the black sweater from last time for a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up that somehow – impossibly – makes him look even bigger as he gestures for her to take an empty seat next to him so they can both refer to his screen. She’d emailed him her two ideas for the final research paper ahead of time, along with a brief outline for both, and it’s actually really nice to see that Ben’s clearly taken the time to go through everything she sent him and come up with valuable feedbacks and concerns for both ideas.

What’s not so nice, though, is the fact that she keeps getting distracted by his exposed forearms, and then she get visibly flustered about it, and then she grows irritated at herself for being this way, and by the end of her twenty-minute slot with him Ben’s smile is completely gone. Rey can’t even blame him, not with her distraction and irritation conspiring to make her seem ungrateful for and uninterested in his feedback.

All in all, it’s a disaster – and yet, somehow not nearly as bad as the third time they meet.

Two weeks later, Poe somehow manages to talk Ben into joining them for their weekly happy hour over at Maz’s. It’s bad enough when he shows up without warning, but Rey knows things are about to get really bad when she realizes that he’s in a tee shirt this time, a tight tee shirt paired with jeans that show off way more than his usual slacks.

Rey tells herself that it’s natural to feel hot in a crowded cantina, that she’s only overheating because she hadn’t had the time to change out of her sweater and jeans before heading here straight from the library.

A hush falls over their table when Poe shows up with their new TA of all people, but Finn and Rose quickly recover from their shock to seamlessly weave Ben into their ongoing conversations about midterms, holiday plans, and more. Rey, however, takes a little longer to adjust.

And maybe, just maybe, her external silence while she internally snaps at herself to get her fucking hormones under control comes off as a little unwelcoming, because at some point she feels Ben’s eyes on hers only to see him quickly look away when she finally lifts her head, his lips devoid of a smile and his shoulders slumped in what she can only assume is discomfort at being around her or disappointment at her behavior.

He gets over it quickly enough though, falling into easy conversation with the others while Rey makes the occasional contribution here and there, though only when prompted by Finn or Rose or Poe. She feels Ben’s eyes on her every now and then, but they manage to avoid each other until Finn and Poe finally slip away to join the crowd gathering on the makeshift dance floor and Rose goes off to say hello to some friends at another table a few minutes later.

After what feels like an eternity of uncomfortable silence and avoiding his eyes and growing steadily warmer to the point of discomfort and nausea, Rey nearly jumps out of her seat when Ben finally speaks.

“Would you… that is… I was wondering if…” He closes his eyes for a moment and clears his throat, and Rey thinks she catches the faintest hint of a flush on his cheeks when she finally finds the courage to look directly at him.

It turns into an outright blush when he opens his eyes to find her staring at him. “I, um, I’m going to get another round,” Ben tells her, tipping his empty beer bottle at her. “Can I get you a drink?” he asks with a little smile.

And she knows, Rey knows he’s just asking out of politeness, just asking because it’s the friendly thing to do and he probably doesn’t mean it that way and honestly, even if he did it wouldn’t be the end of the world–

But suddenly it’s just too much too bear, the heat and the noise and the way that stupidly cute shy little smile makes her feel, and before she knows it Rey’s slipping out of the booth and collecting her jacket. “No thanks, I’m done for the night,” she abruptly announces, words tumbling past her lips in her haste to get out of the cantina and into the cool October night before she passes out or spontaneously combusts or something.

Rey thinks she hears a disappointed little oh as she brushes past him, but she chalks that up to her imagination and doesn’t look back as she steps out into the night. Later that evening, alone in her bed, Rey spends the entire night tossing and turning and dreaming about Ben Solo. Her Saturday morning plans are completely messed up the next day, when she finds herself trying to catch up on sleep instead of going for a run and stocking up on groceries and working on her paper.

Her wasted Saturday only confirms her suspicions: Ben Solo is a distraction, the way he makes her feel is annoying, and there is absolutely no space for him in her life.

So when things suddenly take a turn, it’s probably for the better. Rey should probably be happy. Things will probably go back to normal now.

But it doesn’t feel like anything’s better when Ben stops looking at her in class the next week.

She doesn’t feel happy when he runs into her and her friends at their usual coffee shop a few days later and he acknowledges Finn and Rose by name, only to give her a wordless nod and then brush past her.

And it definitely doesn’t feel normal when Poe convinces Ben to join their group for brunch two Sundays later and she doesn’t feel his eyes on her even once.

After nearly a month of being ignored by Ben, Rey can’t tell who she’s more annoyed at: Ben for disrupting her life and making her feel this way, or her for letting herself get all messed up over a man who’s practically a stranger. All she knows is that she’s crankier than she’s ever been, and that doesn’t bode well for Rose and the sympathetic looks she keeps giving Rey every time Ben acts like she doesn’t exist.

She finally snaps after class one day, when Holdo informs her that Ben’s too busy to handle office hours so Holdo will be stepping in for Rey’s scheduled consultation regarding their upcoming midterms instead. Rose walks her out of class with a supportive hand on her back and looks at her as if someone’s just run over Rey’s beloved puppy or something, and it all finally gets to be too much.

“Stop it,” Rey hisses, shaking Rose’s hand off her. “Stop acting like… like I’m broken, or someone died, or something. Just stop.”

Her friend just gives her a sad little shake of her head. “Rey… I wish you’d get it together and fix this, for both your sakes. Poe thinks maybe you really hurt his feelings.”

The accusation – gentle though it may be – lands a little too close to home for Rey, who’s spent half her nights dreaming about Ben’s smile and the other half losing sleep over all the times she wiped it right off his face.

“Or maybe,” she snaps back defensively, “he’s just an asshole for no reason and I was right to treat him exactly the way I did.”

Rose simply crosses her arms and gives Rey a look, the very rare kind that signals she’s run out of patience for someone’s bullshit. “Honey… I love you, but I’m starting to worry that maybe you’re the asshole in this situation.”

Rey storms off without a word.

She’s always been good at running away from the truth like that.

❄ ❄ ❄

Two more weeks pass.

Midterms come and go and get graded, and Rey sees red when she receives a B- while all of her friends score As and B+s.

It’s like Armitage fucking Hux all over again. She knows she deserves at least a B+, knows this isn’t about her work but about her, and like hell is she letting another asshole TA unfairly target her.

Her rage carries her all the way across campus and into the grad student lounge, potent enough that she doesn’t even hesitate when she realizes she and Ben are the only two people in the quiet room.

He doesn’t notice her at first, grading away with headphones in. Rey takes a probably unhealthy amount of satisfaction at the way he jumps when she announces her presence by slamming her palm onto his desk, and barely waits for him to take off his headphones before she says, “I demand a remark.”

She’s prepared for an instant refusal, for bullshit excuses, even for him to outright ignore her, but Rey is not prepared for the way he just looks at her, staring into her eyes with an indecipherable look in his.

It’s… unsettling, the way he looks at her, the way it makes her feel. “I worked my ass off studying for that goddamn test, which you would know if you hadn’t bailed on me when I made an appointment with you about it, so I know for a fact that I deserve better. Which means you’re going to pull up my paper and remark it, even if I have to stay here and go through it word by word with you until you treat me fairly like a decent goddamn person–”

Ben’s shoulders slump, but strangely she’s the one who suddenly runs out of steam. He’s not looking at her anymore, choosing to stare at the floor instead as one hand nervously fiddles with the pen in his grip… and there, under his hand, laid out on his desk, is her midterm.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly she almost misses it, even in a room with absolutely no other sound. “You’re… you’re right. You deserve better, and I was being unfair. Childish and unprofessional and–” Ben sighs, and drags a hand over his face. “God, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll fix it right now, I was about to anyway, I regretted it the second I– Anyway, if you want to go to Holdo about this…”

She’s a little too hung up on childish and unprofessional to realize what he’s saying at first. What cause has she ever given him to be childish and unprofessional to her and her alone?

Unbidden, the image of Rose rolling her eyes flits into Rey’s mind – and with it, some of the last words they’d ever exchanged on the topic of one Ben Solo… and his hurt feelings.

Rey’s anger melts away, and so does a bit of the ice wall around her heart when she sees the way Ben is staring blankly at his desk, shoulders curved into themselves in absolute defeat and guilt and… maybe, just maybe, hurt.

His last words finally catch up to her, and she finds herself curling a hand around his shoulder before she’s even consciously aware of choosing to do so. “Just… just fix it, and don’t do it again,” she tells him softly.

Ben doesn’t turn to look at her, but she knows she’s not imagining the way he leans into her touch just the slightest bit. “Never again,” he vows and slowly, ever so slowly, turns around to look at her.

And something inside her, the same something that keeps her up at night with memories of him and reminds her of him at the oddest times and makes her heart ache as she looks at him now, compels Rey to hold out her hand and offer him a smile. “Truce?”

His hand shakes as he slowly reaches out to meet her. It makes no sense, the way her hand fits perfectly in his even though his absolutely dwarfs hers, but Rey manages to beat back an instinctive flare of irritation at the discovery and keeps her smile firmly plastered on instead.

“Truce,” Ben murmurs in agreement, and gives her a small smile in return.

She cherishes it more than she probably should, the lingering smile on his lips as they remain that way, hand in hand, until the sound of approaching footsteps snaps her out of the moment.

The sound of Poe’s voice hits her like a bucket of ice water, and Rey drops Ben’s hand as if she’s been burned, ignoring the way his face falls when she rips her hand out of his.

“Oh hey there, Rey!” Poe says cheerfully, heading straight for them. Thankfully she’s had her back to the door this entire time, conveniently hiding their hands from Poe’s view. “Nice to see you in our neck of the woods for once. What’s up?” he asks, throwing himself down onto a nearby chair and rolling it over to them.

“Just wanted to discuss my midterms with Ben, that’s all,” Rey tells him, summoning the most natural-feeling smile she’s capable of right now. “I was just about to head out, actually. I’ll see you at Taco Thursday?”

Poe nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. Finn won’t stop talking about it. Wait,” he suddenly says, turning to Ben with narrowed eyes. “You still haven’t gotten back to me on that! I’m not letting you bail on me again, buddy.”

Guilt slams into Rey like a freight train. She’s noticed Ben’s increasingly frequent absences at their group outings this month, but she’d desperately tried to protect herself from the truth by linking it to what Holdo had said about him being busy with his research this month. The way Ben’s eyes flit to her before he turns to Poe, though, tells her everything she needs to know.

“I’m sorry, Poe–”

“You should come,” Rey says before she can overthink it, before Ben misses out on yet another evening with friends just because of her.

He and Poe turn to her with matching looks of wide-eyed surprise, and the sight is enough to coax a real smile out of her.

“I should?” Ben asks.

Rey nods, ignoring the way Poe’s mouth is slowly curving into a grin as his eyes jump from one of them to the other as if he’s observing a ping pong match. “Yeah, definitely. It’ll be fun.”

She’d much rather focus on the way Ben’s smiling at her anyway, a genuine, fragile little thing full of hope and joy while he gives her the softest, warmest look she’s ever received.

“Okay,” he finally says.

“Okay,” she echoes, knowing that she’s smiling like a fool.

“Okay!” Poe cheers, pumping his fist for exaggerated effect. “Taco Thursday, here we come!”

“I’ll see you guys then,” Rey says with a little laugh, and waves goodbye at Ben even as Poe starts to talk his ear off about bro time and the idea of a taco competition and god knows what else.

He waves back, eyes on her until she finally, reluctantly turns her back to him and leaves the lounge. She walks for all of two minutes before she turns a corner and slumps against the wall, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths to steady her racing heart and quell her wide grin.

Ben Solo might be a distraction, but the way he makes her feel… isn’t all that bad, Rey supposes. Maybe there’s some room for him in her life after all.

❄ ❄ ❄

Rey does not so much decide to let Ben into her life as she decides to just… allow it to happen.

True to their promise in the grad lounge, they fall into a tentative truce – and it’s almost as if the universe takes that as a sign and decides to run with it. Suddenly there are secret smiles shared in every single class, near-daily run-ins around campus that include friendly hellos, and, of course, an endless string of group outings organized by a gleeful Rose and a scheming Poe.

(Finn, bless his heart, simply tells her to trust her gut the day he finally catches on to what’s happening and leaves it at that.)

With each smile, each hello, each group brunch or lunch or dinner or happy hour that somehow always ends up with the two of them sitting and talking together… Rey feels every facet of her defense mechanism slowly melting away, leaving behind only her undeniable connection with Ben and the fact that he’s worth being attracted to, worth caring about, worth making herself vulnerable to and for.

She doesn’t really have the time or energy to do anything with that realization though, not with finals just around the corner. The last leg of the semester is an endless nightmare, with major papers due and ‘surprise’ revision quizzes and, of course, finals themselves.

There’s barely any time to eat, sleep, and breathe, let alone think and feel and reach out, until she makes it out of her last final the Friday before Christmas relatively unscathed. It’s been a miserable two weeks, but the relief of finally being done –for now – gives Rey a much-needed burst of energy to drag herself over to Maz’s later that day where everyone else is celebrating the end of finals and the semester as a whole.

She draws the line at dancing though, telling Finn and Rose that she can barely keep her eyes open when they try to pull her into the fray.

“You should’ve just stayed home,” Rose says with a concerned frown as Finn disappears to get her another round before they leave her to her own devices.

She would’ve, if not for the fact that this is probably her last chance to see Ben this year. She’s not all that familiar with the schedule for grad school, but surely even they get to go home for the holidays.

Rey doesn’t tell Rose any of this, though. “If I’d stayed home, I probably would’ve crashed for twenty-four hours straight or something like that,” she says instead, which isn’t all that far from the truth.

Finn returns with her drink a few minutes later, and the two of them fuss over her a little more until Poe and Ben show up.

He smiles at her, and Rey fights off the sudden and strong urge to curl into him and go to sleep in his arms.

“Perfect timing!” Finn says as he gives his boyfriend a quick kiss before Poe heads off to get drinks for Ben and himself. “Ben, you’re not much of a dancer, right?”

“That’s probably the understatement of the century,” Ben says in that dry way of his, drawing laughs from the rest of them. And then, before Finn can even ask, he nods. “You guys go ahead and have fun, I’ll sit with Rey.”

Rose and Finn need no further convincing, immediately disappearing into the crowd gathered in the center of the room. Poe stops by their table just long enough to drop off their drinks, and quickly follows suit.

And then, as is so often the case with these group outings, it’s just her and Ben.

“Too tired to dance?” he asks, moving closer to be heard above the crowd.

Rey slumps onto the table with her head cradled in her folded arms. “Finals broke me,” she mutters into her arm, not quite sure if Ben can even hear her.

He does, somehow, and gives her a quiet laugh in return. It warms her in all the right ways now, coaxing a slow, lazy smile from her as she turns to look up at him.

“I’m sure all of your hard work will pay off,” Ben predicts confidently, and Rey lets out a little hum in reply before they fall into a comfortable silence. She doesn’t fall asleep, can’t with all the noise in the background, but she closes her eyes for long stretches of time and pretends she doesn’t feel the warmth of Ben’s gaze on her every time she does.

It’s nice, what they have together. Warm and easy and comfortable, so comfortable that Rey isn’t really thinking straight when she allows a combination of exhaustion and alcohol and, quite frankly, affection and fondness and want to thoroughly lay waste to her verbal filter.

“I’m hostile toward people I want to fuck,” she finally admits, eyes half-closed and words more than a little slurred.

The booth seems to shake along with Ben when he startles at her blunt confession. “What?” he asks faintly, as though she’s knocked the wind out of him. She opens her eyes to find him staring at her all wide-eyed like a deer in headlights and shit, that shouldn’t be attractive but of course it is, everything about him is.

And the best part is, that’s just one of the many reasons why Rey somehow finds it within herself to shake off her exhaustion, pull herself upright, and finally take a leap of faith. “That was crude, sorry,” she says with a little smile, biting back a laugh at the way Ben just blinks at her.

“It’s just…” And this is the hard part, the bit she’s never actually put into words, not even for Finn and Rose, not even for herself, but for Ben she’s willing to try and finally make sense of it all, of the warped defense mechanism her childhood had forced upon her without her even consciously knowing it. “Where I grew up, how I grew up… I couldn’t have any distractions or weaknesses,” Rey begins, and finds the strength to go on in the way Ben hangs on to her every word like he actually cares, in the way he leans in and blocks out the rest of the world behind him so that she can share this secret with him and only him. “And for the longest time, my greatest weakness was wanting. There were… so many things I wanted, people above all. Parents and friends and just… someone who cared, that’s all.”

To his credit, Ben stays quiet and lets her go on even though it looks like it physically pains him not to say something at this point. He finds a nice compromise by placing one hand next to hers on the table in a silent offer, and Rey smiles as she takes him up on it and slides her hand into the familiar, comforting hold of his. “Eventually, I learned that having feelings for someone, wanting them, caring about another person’s opinion of me or even caring for another person period… all of that made me vulnerable, in one way or another. I learned that I couldn’t afford any of that, and so I trained myself out of it. I stopped wanting, stopped trusting…” she pauses, takes a shaky breath, “stopped feeling, for the longest time.”

And Ben, Ben just squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile and nods for her to go on.

“Then I moved here three years ago, and everything changed. Suddenly it was okay to like being around people and to want to make friends and even to want someone. But my brain didn’t quite get the message, I think,” Rey says with a laugh, “because whenever I do find myself attracted to someone – not that it happens often, I honestly can’t remember the last time before you –, I just get really, really weird and silly and pissed about it, like how dare you be appealing to me and make me feel things I didn’t ask to feel, and then…” She shrugs. “Well, you’ve seen firsthand how much of an asshole I can be when that happens.”

At some point during her word vomit Ben’s hand had grown slack in hers, and so Rey lets go and busies herself with peeling the label of his bottle while he processes her little – well, not so little – ramble.

It takes a while. Quite a while, really, so much so that Rey starts to wonder if she’s just made an absolute fool of herself by throwing caution to the wind just this once. Just as she’s about to give up and shut down and run away from him, though, Ben finally speaks.

“Um,” he says, and it’s the look in his eyes, uncertainty swirling with the slightest bit of hope, that keeps her in place even as he struggles to form more words. “Um, so you… does that mean… because you just said– And I’m not your TA anymore, you should probably know that, Amilyn and I finished grading the finals two days ago so… I mean… if you want…”

He sounds so hesitant and uncertain and shy, and Rey’s heart is so full of endearment and fondness and affection for this ridiculous man. She takes pity on Ben, figuring she owes him a break anyway, and finds enough courage for the both of them to take one last leap and ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Thankfully, he doesn’t leave her hanging this time. “Please,” he breathes almost immediately, almost reverently, and catches her as if he’s been doing it all their lives when she promptly throws herself into his lap. His lips are so soft, just as she’d known they would be, and at first he kisses her so sweetly it makes Rey’s heart ache. It doesn’t take long for him to get comfortable though, for him to coax her to part her lips while his hands settle around her hips, for him to make her heart race.

And Rey, Rey is living for this, has dreamed of it for far too long to even think of stopping him now, even as the loud music and endless chatter insist on reminding her of just where they are. It isn’t until Poe alerts them to his presence with a wolf whistle that they finally part, though Ben still keeps her firmly within his arms even as they turn to find all three of their friends staring at them with smirks of varying degrees.

“Get a room, lovebirds!” Poe finally cackles, prompting Finn and Rose to burst into laughter as well.

Rey waits for dread to put out the fire in her veins, waits for her instincts to kick in and attempt to extricate herself from the situation, waits for her automatic reaction of making up for a moment of weakness by turning herself into a fortress.

It never comes – not any of it, not even the slightest blush of humiliation. She relaxes into Ben’s arms as the realization finally washes through her and settles into her bones: it’s not a weakness, what she feels for Ben Solo. Frankly, it’s exhilarating.

On that note, she allows herself a smile so wide her cheeks hurt. “Great idea, Poe,” she says casually, and turns back to a grinning Ben. “What do you think?”

Ben leans down and gives her a chaste kiss. “Yes,” he murmurs against her lips, “yes to everything.”

And so, with the very, very vocal blessings of their far too enthusiastic friends, they make their way out of the cantina and into the night. And sure, it’s still really unfair for Ben to be so hot and smart and nice, for him to look the way he does as he drapes his coat around her before ushering her to his car, but funnily enough, Rey can no longer find it within herself to be annoyed by any of that.

Ben Solo might be the biggest distraction of her life, but that’s okay. The way he makes her feel is new and foreign and all kinds of wonderful, and Rey decides right there and then that she’s definitely going to keep him in her life.

❄ ❄ ❄

Hey, remember when I came back from hiatus last month and assumed at some point I'd get back into the swing of things and remember how this whole writing business works?

I have never been so wrong in my life. But I'm also having great fun stringing together words and stories even though I have no idea what I'm doing anymore, so at least there's that. Anyway, thanks for stopping by and I hope this was as much fun to read as it was to write! As always, please don't hesitate to like/reblog/leave a comment!

#reylo #reylo au #kylo ren/rey #rey/kylo ren #rey/ben solo #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #my fics #fic: kinda annoying #fic archive

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whentommymetalfie · 7 years ago

Text

Shattered and hollow

A:N/ Sometimes, you’ve got to go where the muses take you. So... ANGST. This is set before Alfie and Tommy meet, and then in the first month or so after Kiss with a fist. (check my masterlist if I’m confusing!) Also, touch-starved!Tommy is literally a subject I could write like... a master thesis on. (don’t call me out on that) Point is, I’m obsessed. tumblr has decided to put in a giant blank space in the text, there’s actually nothing missing, it’s just... there. So bear with me, I’ll fix it as soon as I’m by a computer again! I think it’s gone... this website will be the death of me

Summary: Tommy suffers a particularly bad period of insomnia, and ends up in a downward spiral of opium, whiskey and too many hours alone with his thoughts. His thoughts aren’t very kind at night.

Then he meets Alfie, who further complicates matters.

Pairing: Alfie/Tommy

Warnings: Insomnia, drug-use, anxiety, ptsd, implied past child abuse, a fair bit of self loathing,

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962621

Sometimes, during the darkest hours of the night, Tommy wishes that he could be anywhere but in his own body. And his own head.

When he lies awake, staring at the wall and listening to the shovels. And his chest feels both completely empty and somehow tight at the same time- then he wishes that he could just crawl out of his own skin and be someone else. Or take a knife and carve out the parts of his brain that aren’t working, until he’s left with the rational, logical ones.

The ones that are of any use.

It’s another one of those nights when sleep eludes him completely. One of those nights when the opium just makes his thoughts spin faster in his head, and not even the whiskey can take the edge off. So, he pulls on his coat and goes for a walk, body feeling oddly light. Distant. As if his mind is just soaring somewhere above his shoulders, separate from them.

It feels like that a lot of the time, these days. As if his body is just some vessel that carries his mind around. His mind has always been his greatest asset when it comes to business, so that’s what he relies on. That’s why he forgets to eat. Maybe.

The night isn’t particularly cold. But his hands feel absolutely freezing.

Tommy’s hands are cold a lot of the time. Something about the circulation is off, that’s the whole thing. But it feels like a sign, like his body is telling him that he’s not supposed to touch other people. Cold hands do for pulling the trigger of a gun, and go well with bloodied knuckles, but not much else.

He tells himself he doesn’t need it. Anything else.

Since when does he spend time on useless thoughts like this?

The opium makes his thoughts fractured, hard to control. He shouldn’t be walking around, not when he’s like this. High. Drunk. Mind cracked from too many nights without sleep. But he does it, still.

How many has it been? Three? Four?

He goes to check on the horse. Been quite some time since he was in the stables.

The eyes on the white stallion meet his, unwavering, warm. It hits him that hardly anyone looks at him that way anymore. Without averting their eyes.

See, you’ve got cold eyes, boy. Soulless. Bet you not even the devil could look into the for too long. His dad used to talk about his eyes when the whiskey had gone to his head. Stop fucking staring at me that way. Makes want to cut them out.

You should never teach a person too much about themselves.

If he’s got cold eyes, fine, he can use that to his advantage.

But it’s hard to look at someone any other way, these days.

It’s the opium that does it, stirs up all these strange thoughts. Self-pity is not something he indulges in. It’s just a side effect.

He opens the stall and the horse comes up to greet him. His hand instinctually reaches out to stroke its neck, and when he feels the warmth under his palm, it’s like a wave rushes through his entire body.

When was the last time he touched another person like this?

He searches his memory, but nothing resurfaces.

His head is not working properly.

Without thinking, he wraps an arm around the horse’s neck and buries his face against the mane. And it’s warm and alive and doesn’t tense up in expectation of a violent outburst- Tommy breathes in the familiar scent and presses the hand against the soft coat.

It only lasts for a moment, before his mind catches up to him and he backs away, looking around and expecting someone to be there and witness the display of weakness.

No one is there, of course.

Just him.

But it’s bad enough, isn’t it?

He catches some sleep the next night, and it should be enough to get his head in working order again. It is, really. He runs the business with the normal sense of logic and determination, and when John asks how he’s doing, he responds without looking up from the paperwork. Something dismissive, that he can’t recall exactly. John puts a hand on his shoulder, and he shrugs it off.

It's there, even during the day, when his head is clear and the opium smoke is far away. This numbness. It feels more and more like he’s just living completely inside his own head, and his body is this separate entity that he just drags around.

And he’s radiating this… cold. Not really someone you want to reach out for. So people eventually stop.

Even Finn becomes hesitant with his normally so frequent hugs.

And he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Talk to me, Tommy,” Polly says when she catches him late one night in the kitchen, on his way out. “There’s something wrong, I can tell.”

“Everything is fine,” Tommy says flatly and brushes past her. One of her hands wraps itself around his arm. He fights the urge to recoil at the touch.

“If it’s something with the business, I deserve to know.”

Right. The business.

“It’s nothing, Pol. Nothing you don’t already know about.” He pins her with his eyes. “Full disclosure. Didn’t we agree on that?”

She doesn’t let go.

“Well, then it’s you,” she says, voice uncharacteristically soft, and rubs her palm along his arm. “Has something happened?” Tommy shifts away from the hand.

“It’s getting worse,” Polly states then with her uncanny frankness, dropping the arm to her side.

“What?”

“Whatever is going on with your head,” she says. “I can hear you get out of bed in the middle of the night. Not come back until dawn. And you’re distant. Like you’re never actually here. More every day.”

“Just some trouble sleeping, that’s all,” Tommy keeps his tone void of emotion. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Not sleeping is something to worry about. It does things to the mind. Things you have no control over. Makes you reckless.” Pol looks him in the eye. She is one of the few people he can’t stare down. There is genuine concern there –Pol has warm eyes. “You’ll end up hurting someone. Yourself, if I know you right.”

For just a moment, he wants to tell her.

This impulse makes him walk past her and out the door.

One time, on one of those nightly walks, he feels so disconnected from his own body that he thinks his nerves must’ve stopped functioning properly. That the little threads running through him has broken, and that’s why he can’t feel.

It's like he is floating.

He draws in warm smoke into his lungs, and it helps a bit.

He smokes until he runs out of cigarettes, and the surreal sensation of being completely numb grows. Until he’s drowning in it- he ends up at the end of some dark alley, without even remembering how he got there, hands resting on the rough bricks as he tries to just breathe. Tries to get some air past the rope that is wrapped so tightly around his chest.

He’s teetering on the edge of some abyss of complete and utter insanity, that’s what it feels like right at that moment.

Maybe if he could carve out all the parts of himself that he-

He bites his knuckles –a nervous habit he hasn’t fallen into in years. But the pain at least makes his hands feel real again.

Somehow, he finds his way back home and collapses in bed, falling into an unconscious darkness.

When a bleak sun shines light through his window only a few hours later, he sees the wounds and is overwhelmed by disgust. He has to stop using –he can’t afford to lose control like this.

Approaching the Jewish gang in London is quite possibly one of those reckless things Polly talked about. And it very nearly does get him killed, due to his little encounter with Sabini’s men. It’s only luck that Arthur and John show up at the right moment.

But then again, it also leads him to Alfie Solomons. Who crashes into his life and turns everything on its head. In more ways than one.

And for a moment, it pulls him away from the edge.

Tommy wouldn’t have pinned Alfie as particularly gentle, or affectionate. Though it really shouldn’t shock him that Alfie proves him wrong, because if there’s one thing he is –its full of surprises. Turns out, he can be both.

Tommy especially thinks of it the first time they share a bed. Which takes much longer than he thought it would, for reasons he doesn’t care to look into. There are a lot of heated kisses, in Alfie’s office, in dark alleys, or the snug at the Garrison after closing hours. But it doesn’t go further than that; as if they’ve suddenly turned into nervous boys… Tommy doesn’t think too hard about it. Tries to, at least.

For the most part, he’s just so lost in the feeling of finally being touched by someone. Who wants to touch him, who doesn’t feel obliged to. But the high only lasts for those short, fleeting moments. And soon, he’s back in his own bed, staring into the ceiling and overwhelmed by that feeling of existing just outside of his own body.

Eventually, they do end up in bed together. Alfie’s own bed, in London. And it’s… Tommy won’t lie, it’s something else, as cliché as it sounds. It’s good. It’s really, really good.

There’s a bit of fumbling, granted. Because it all feels so new, somehow. And despite Alfie taking the time to open him up with his fingers, Tommy is wound far too tightly at first, and it’s painful when Alfie pushes into him. Not all the way, but it's enough. He squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself, knowing it’ll feel good in a while –just have to get through this first bit. But Alfie just pulls out and kisses his cheek.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart. Got a bit eager-“ he smiles down at Tommy and winks. “Bit more work to do, eh? Don’t worry, I’ll make it good for you.” And instead of telling Alfie that it’s fine, and he should just get on with it, Tommy lets out a laugh. He’s happy right then. To be there with Alfie.

When Alfie finally fills him up him completely, it doesn’t hurt at all. And he tells him all kinds of things –that Tommy is beautiful, how good it feels to fuck him… And he wants to know how it feels for him: good? Should he go harder? Slower?

He looks at Tommy as if he’s this precious thing.

Tommy is just there, in the moment.

Afterwards, Alfie wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, until his head is resting on his chest.

Tommy feels that familiar urge to run beginning to claw at him. They’ve fucked, it’s over and done with. Surely Alfie Solomons isn’t the type who cuddles.

And he feels pathetic, for wanting this.

Alfie is just doing what is expected of him, following a sort of unwritten rule.

It’s their first time, so there must be a lot of preconceived ideas about the whole thing.

Tommy doesn’t need his sufferance, and is tempted to dislodge himself and reach for a cigarette. But even though his mind is racing, his body feels heavy in Alfie’s arms. Like it wants to stay there. Like it’s longed just to be close to someone.

So he stays. For a little while. The bedroom comes with a different set of rules, always has. So maybe he can play along.

God, since when did he become so fucking pitiful?

He’s stopped using the opium. This is just something lingering. That’s all this is.

After kissing the top of his head and squeezing him a bit tighter, Alfie falls asleep.

Tommy doesn’t.

It feels like he’s got a weight on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He thinks it must be caused by how he’s pressed against Alfie’s body.

Careful not to wake him, he pulls out from the embrace and lies down at the edge of the mattress.

It doesn’t help.

Eventually, Tommy gives up on the idea of sleeping and goes down to sit on Alfie’s couch instead.

After that first time, this becomes his new drug. He finds himself going to London far more often than what is reasonable, and they find a shoddy hotel in Birmingham where -for the right price- no-one asks questions.

Tommy throws himself into the whole thing with reckless abandon, and Alfie seems both enthralled and a bit surprised.

Alfie always dutifully wraps him up in that sure embrace afterwards.

Tommy spends the majority of the night curled up on the opposite side of the mattress. Or down in Alfie’s living room. Fucking is one thing. The rest is something else, and he doesn’t need that.

It’s the fifth, or maybe sixth time they share a bed. Not like he’s keeping count or anything.

Tommy is on his back, and Alfie holds onto the headboard of the bed for leverage as he fucks him.

It’s better than the opium.

Alfie rolls off him with a satisfied sigh, stretching his limbs and looking very pleased with both himself and the overall situation. Tommy expects him to pull him close, the way he usually does. He’s even decided that perhaps he could… stay like that for a bit longer tonight. Maybe it’s because the weather has been getting colder, and he along with it, and he just desperately wants for something to warm him up, if only for a moment…

Only Alfie doesn’t. Instead he puts his hands behind his head and stares thoughtfully up at the ceiling.

Tommy reaches for his jacket on the floor and fishes out the cigarette case, ignoring that it suddenly feels like his insides have tied themselves into a knot.

“Yeah, figures you weren’t the cuddly type,” Alfie says, tone light and with a hint of a smile visible through the beard.

Unable to respond to this, Tommy just lights a cigarette.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Alfie goes on. “That you always end up on the opposite side of the bed. Looks like you’re about to fall off, the way you curl up at the edge. So I recon you’re not really into the whole ‘laying in my arms and gazing longingly at my face-thing.”

“But you are?” Tommy draws the smoke far into his lungs and wants to store the warmth there.

“’Course I am!” Alfie looks almost offended. “Best fucking part of the whole thing. Well, maybe that’s taking it a bit far. Because you really are just… something else in bed, darling.” He chuckles and shakes his head slowly. “I mean, fucking you is like a… religious bloody experience, right. So it’s not really comparable to anything.” His fingers trail lightly over Tommy’s collarbone. “But… you know, it’s at least as fucking good. Just in a different way.” He pauses. “Though, not if you don’t like it. Then it’s pointless, innit? Should be a mutual thing.”

“Who knew you were so considerate,” Tommy quirks an eyebrow.

“Don’t say shit like that,” Alfie furrows his brow. “Don’t like having insinuations made about me. Not when it comes to this. I'm a bad man, alright. But not in that way.”

Tommy shrugs.

“So, I take it you need your space, then?”

“Sure,” Tommy answers. Because what the fuck is he supposed to say? He’s fucking pathetic alright, but Alfie doesn’t need know that. He’s burnt this bridge now.

“Fine. Maybe you’ll change your mind. Bit further down the line.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Tommy puts the cigarette out and rolls onto his side, back turned against him. Alfie just chuckles quietly and turns the light off.

A while later, his soft snores fill the room. Tommy lies awake.

Maybe he should put an end to this whole thing. Before Alfie discovers what he’s gotten himself into and ends it for him.

Why should he put up with it?

Tommy wouldn’t put up with himself if he wasn’t forced to.

They meet up again the following week. Same shoddy hotel, same creaking bed. Alfie tells Tommy to ride him, lifts him up onto his lap and holds him close.

Tommy wants it to last, because like this, nothing is complicated. He can cling to Alfie, bury his face against his neck, let himself be held without thinking of the consequences. Alfie’s warmth thaws him from the inside out, and all those broken nerve endings seem to mend themselves.

Of course it does end, eventually, and once he’s back in his own head again, Tommy untangles himself from Alfie’s grip and reaches for his cigarettes.

Alfie talks about the different uses of nettles. There are a lot, apparently, and either he knows them all, or he’s making it up as he goes along. Tommy smokes and listens, feeling a smile twitch at his mouth. As long as Alfie is talking, he doesn’t really think about anything else.

Eventually, Alfie cuts off the long monologue with a yawn. He glances at Tommy and offers an arm in an inviting gesture.

“Still not feeling the least bit cuddly, sweetheart?”

It’s too late to change anything now, isn’t it? Would feel like admitting weakness. He can’t afford himself to be weak. He thinks of those first times, how it felt… And he wants-

“Not really,” he says and rolls over to his side.

Alfie just lets out that low chuckle.

“All sharp edges, ain’t ya´, Tommy?”

He doesn’t answer.

Alfie falls asleep within a few minutes.

Tommy's chest feels tight.

This will be one of those bad nights, he feels it more by each passing second. And there’s nothing here to take the edge off.

The unwelcomed thoughts start clawing at his brain, and he tries to focus on the sound of Alfie’s breathing.

He gives up.

Fuck this, there’s no point in lying here and feel the walls close in.

Tommy swings his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing a bit as he takes the first unsteady step over the rough floorboards. The urge to get out of the room is suddenly overwhelming, so his movements are a bit frantic as he pulls on his clothing, only bothering with the necessities, before grabbing his coat.

It’s cold outside.

He ends up at the stables in spite of himself, warming his hands against the mane of the horse. It’s happy to see him.

He stays longer than he should.

The door creaks as someone opens it, and in a rehearsed movement, Tommy pulls his gun and turns to face the newcomer, hands steady.

“Bloody hell, you point that towards everyone you sleep with?” Alfie’s voice comes from the shadows and he steps out in the dim light flooding the stable. “Then again, you don’t really sleep, do you, Tommy? Must be why you’re so fucking on edge all the time. Go on, put that away now. Going to spook that horse if you shoot me here. I mean look at it, it’s all twitchy.”

Tommy has already lowered the gun and put it back in its holster.

“What are you doing here, Alfie?” he asks and turns back to calm the frightened horse. It only takes a moment –he’s always been better with horses than people. At least when it comes to touching them.

“Really could ask you the same, mate.” Alfie is coming towards him. “I just followed you, didn’t I? Or, I followed my instinct is more like it. Figured you might be hiding out here.”

“Thought you were asleep.”

“Well you thought wrong, didn’t you?”

Alfie is standing right behind him now. “Was for a while, sure. Woke up and discovered you were gone. Thought that maybe you’d taken the whole thing a bit further, your whole… intense self-loathing thing. Just decided to sleep on the floor. Seemed like a thing you could do, right. Fuckin’ hell, if I could only take a look inside that brain of yours-”

Tommy is bracing himself for more questions that he can’t answer, when a warm hand comes to rest on the back of his neck. The touch makes him flinch involuntarily.

“Fuck, you’re absolutely freezing,” Alfie mutters. “Will catch your death, hanging out in damp old stables at night. Come here-“

A pair of strong hands grabs his shoulders and turns him around. And a moment later, he is enveloped in a tight embrace. Alfie opens his coat and brings it up around him, forming this warm cocoon, as he holds him close to his chest. Tommy is absolutely rigid in his arms.

“What are you doing?” he asks dumbly, hands twitching at his sides as he considers pushing him away. Alfie huffs.

“I know that head of yours ain’t always working right, but even you must know what a fucking hug is. Now relax, will you? You ain’t a rabbit caught in a bloody snare.”

His head is telling him that he needs to distance himself from this; this is too close. Alfie pities him. But it’s physically impossible not to give in. Every little bit of resistance melts away, and he completely falls into the strength of Alfie’s arms, burying his nose in the crook of his neck and wrapping his own arms tightly around his waist. It must be cold, but Alfie doesn’t even flinch. And the warmth seeps into his fractured nerves and softens his tense body.

“There we go,” Alfie whispers and rubs his back. “Figured you needed one of these. Just to warm you up, eh?”

Tommy wonders for a moment if Alfie can actually see straight through his head.

Alfie takes him back to the hotel, undresses him and wraps him in a just as tight embrace in bed. And Tommy knows its desperate and pathetic and- fuck he wishes he didn’t need this so badly. But he does. And he’s so fucking tired. So he huddles as close as he’s able to and hides his face against Alfie’s chest. Alfie begins to stroke his hair.

The tightness in his chest disappears, and he can finally draw breath all the way down his lungs.

“Should’ve seen this is what you need,” Alfie mutters into his hair.

Tommy pretends to be asleep. Alfie keeps holding him just as tight, and he lies there and waits for the grip to loosen, for him to drift off. It doesn’t happen. The arms remain firm around him, anchoring him in warmth. And he listens to Alfie’s heartbeat.

Until he actually does fall asleep.

Alfie’s hands are rarely far away after that. Tommy sometimes wishes he wasn’t so good at reading him, because it makes him feel oddly vulnerable. That whenever he gets too caught up in something, and he’s beginning to sink into the disconnected fog, Alfie is there to draw him out of it. Putting an arm around his shoulders, or a hand on the back of his neck. Just to ground him.

Granted there is quite a bit of groping as well –Tommy doesn’t mind in the least. Alfie wants to touch him, that's what matters.

Tommy is bad at doing the same, at first. It takes a while to remember what it’s like to touch someone without ulterior motives. And then it’s his hands… he doesn’t want Alfie to flinch because he’s got those icy fingers on some days. It’s late autumn, now, so that doesn’t exactly help the situation.

They’re in the snug at the Garrison, presumably conducting business. At the moment, that is actually what they’re doing. Tommy is helping Alfie with the bookkeeping, because the sooner they get that over with, the sooner they can do something more useful with their time.

Eyes still on the documents before him, Tommy reaches across the table for a paper and accidentally touches Alfie’s bare arm. He instinctually withdraws the hand, as if he’s burned himself.

“Fucking hell, mate, those are some cold fucking hands,” Alfie mutters, glancing up over the edge of his glasses. Without hesitation he takes Tommy’s hand into both of his and starts to gently rub the back of it with his thumbs.

Tommy is frozen in his seat. But Alfie seems unfazed. As if this is something completely natural.

“See, you’ve got to get the blood running, right?” He nods to himself. “That’s the whole thing. Bet you faint easily, too… ‘Cause the blood doesn’t reach your head quick enough.” Alfie goes back to reading something very intently, but keeps massaging his hand, moving up the wrist. Squeezes the fingers in his warm palms.

“I don’t faint easily,” Tommy says firmly, but is terrified of doing something that will make Alfie stop.

“So you’re telling me you never get dizzy if you stand up to quick?” Alfie chuckles to himself and turns his hand over, taking care of the palm next. Little by little, he feels how the heat creeps down his wrist and into his hand.

“No.” Yes, but only if he hasn’t slept in a few days.

“Well, I’ll keep an eye on you. Bound to happen, what with the not eating thing. But we’ll work on that. Till then, guess I’ll just stick around, yeah?” Alfie glances up at him and winks “Make sure to catch you if you swoon a little.”

“You fucking wish,” Tommy offers a raised eyebrow in a display of scepticism. “We need to talk about your obsession with carrying me.”

“You never let me,” Alfie retorts. “You and your silly ideas. Now give me that other hand.”

Tommy does.

He’s sitting in the kitchen one night, instead of wandering the streets aimlessly. And it’s got nothing to do with Alfie, and how he always asks about it the next time they meet. “Don’t like it that you’re out when you’re that way. All jittery and fucked in the head.” So he tries staying indoors.

Arthur comes home from the Garrison, halting his step as he passes in the hallway.

“Tommy!” He exclaims and shoots him a lopsided grin as he stumbles into the kitchen and slumps down next to him on the sofa. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yes. Must be such a surprise. In our own house,” Tommy says and empties his glass.

“Well, you’re always rushing about these days,” Arthur reaches for the whiskey, as if he’s not drunk enough already. “Was bloody worried ‘bout you for awhile, you know. Seemed to be spinning completely out of control- your eyes were all hollowed out-“

Arthur noticed.

“But it’s better now. I can tell,” Arthur smiles that way he does when he gets sentimental. “Don’t know what it is, but you’re a bit softer ‘round the edges.”

Tommy wishes Arthur wouldn’t remind him of that.

Then Arthur wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him against his side.

“Yeah, whatever it is that’s doin’ it… just stick to it aight?” He reaches up and tousles his hair roughly. And Tommy doesn’t bat his hand away. “See, I’m gonna look out for you better now, Tom,” Arthur’s voice is thick with emotion. He probably won’t remember the whole thing tomorrow. “Better than when we were kids-“ his fingers brush lightly against the small scar on Tommy’s left cheek. This, Tommy shifts away from. But Arthur is too far gone to take any notice. His eyes linger on the mark. “Better than with our-”

“I’m not a child, you don’t have to fucking-“ Tommy starts to protest, but then bites his tongue and softens his tone a bit. “You’ve always done your best, Arthur. That’s enough.” No point in making him upset about this.

Arthur rests his elbows on his knees and nods slowly to himself, staring at some undetermined spot on the floor with glazed eyes.

The floorboards creek as Polly comes into the kitchen with that knowing look on her face, and a faint smile curling her lip.

“Oh sorry, are we waking Finn up?” Arthur wonders, quite a bit too loud in relation to the subject of the question.

“It’s fine, he’s used to this racket by now,” Polly says and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Well I’m off to bed,” Arthur states and gives Tommy’s hair another affectionate tug. “Don’t stay up too long, Tommy-boy. Not good for that head of yours.”

He leaves the room on unsteady feet, and Tommy just hopes he won’t fall walking up the stairs.

A sense of calm settles in the kitchen, and Tommy finds himself staying right where he is.

“I actually came down here to make tea,” Polly says and goes about it. “This house is bloody freezing.”

He should leave, before she starts asking things.

But Polly just sets the teapot and two cups down on the table, before seating herself and opening her book.

She doesn’t ask any questions. Just sits there with him.

Tommy doesn’t tell her anything. But he doesn’t leave, either

#alfie/tommy #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #wtma au #season01au #hurt/comfort #touch-starved #tw: anxiety #tw: ptsd #tw: insomnia #tw: drug use #tw: disordered eating #tw: child abuse

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calcinator · 7 years ago

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Warning Signs of Unsafe Groups/Leaders

Given my personal background, I thought it prudent to share this information. This is from the Cult Education Institute’s website. Keep in mind these behaviors are potentially dangerous in any organization or group, they need not be explicitly religious in nature to use these methods to manipulate and control.

Ten warning signs of a potentially unsafe group/leader.

Absolute authoritarianism without meaningful accountability.

No tolerance for questions or critical inquiry.

No meaningful financial disclosure regarding budget, expenses such as an independently audited financial statement.

Unreasonable fear about the outside world, such as impending catastrophe, evil conspiracies and persecutions.

There is no legitimate reason to leave, former followers are always wrong in leaving, negative or even evil.

Former members often relate the same stories of abuse and reflect a similar pattern of grievances.

There are records, books, news articles, or television programs that document the abuses of the group/leader.

Followers feel they can never be "good enough".

The group/leader is always right.

The group/leader is the exclusive means of knowing "truth" or receiving validation, no other process of discovery is really acceptable or credible.

Ten warning signs regarding people involved in/with a potentially unsafe group/leader.

Extreme obsessiveness regarding the group/leader resulting in the exclusion of almost every practical consideration.

Individual identity, the group, the leader and/or God as distinct and separate categories of existence become increasingly blurred. Instead, in the follower's mind these identities become substantially and increasingly fused--as that person's involvement with the group/leader continues and deepens.

Whenever the group/leader is criticized or questioned it is characterized as "persecution".

Uncharacteristically stilted and seemingly programmed conversation and mannerisms, cloning of the group/leader in personal behavior.

Dependency upon the group/leader for problem solving, solutions, and definitions without meaningful reflective thought. A seeming inability to think independently or analyze situations without group/leader involvement.

Hyperactivity centered on the group/leader agenda, which seems to supercede any personal goals or individual interests.

A dramatic loss of spontaneity and sense of humor.

Increasing isolation from family and old friends unless they demonstrate an interest in the group/leader.

Anything the group/leader does can be justified no matter how harsh or harmful.

Former followers are at best-considered negative or worse evil and under bad influences. They can not be trusted and personal contact is avoided.

Ten signs of a safe group/leader.

A safe group/leader will answer your questions without becoming judgmental and punitive.

A safe group/leader will disclose information such as finances and often offer an independently audited financial statement regarding budget and expenses. Safe groups and leaders will tell you more than you want to know.

A safe group/leader is often democratic, sharing decision making and encouraging accountability and oversight.

A safe group/leader may have disgruntled former followers, but will not vilify, excommunicate and forbid others from associating with them.

A safe group/leader will not have a paper trail of overwhelmingly negative records, books, articles and statements about them.

A safe group/leader will encourage family communication, community interaction and existing friendships and not feel threatened.

A safe group/leader will recognize reasonable boundaries and limitations when dealing with others.

A safe group/leader will encourage critical thinking, individual autonomy and feelings of self-esteem.

A safe group/leader will admit failings and mistakes and accept constructive criticism and advice.

A safe group/leader will not be the only source of knowledge and learning excluding everyone else, but value dialogue and the free exchange of ideas.

#cults #cult survivor

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serpentinegraphite · 5 years ago

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Full disclosure, I haven't 100% thoroughly rewatched all the relevant episodes, though I've been through a few:

The Scourger question haunts me. It seems an uncharacteristically significant and unnecessary risk for Essek to offer her a shiv (like, yes sometimes people behave strangely or stupidly under pressure, see: "where do you live?" // ".... Around," but). My next question would be if the Cerberus Assembly had info or was planning to betray Essek in some way, but then prolonging her life before execution for Caleb wouldn't really fit (too much risk to himself; Essek loves the mighty nein but he indicated a few times he doesn't want to have to choose between himself and them, perhaps implying that his self-preservation instinct would win out), and Essek gives the impression in 98 that he thinks he's still a little too valuable for the Assembly to turn on him yet.

Additionally, I think offering the Scourger a shiv would be too much suspicion on Essek. He's a great candidate for audience suspicion because he has the access and the motivation, but I would also argue that in-universe, because he's some kind of spymaster and in charge of interrogations, it looks bad on him even if he's NOT suspected of treason. It looks like Essek is bad at his job if one of the prisoners under his watch tries to kill a guest, in addition to the reasons OP lists above.

I agree that it seems less likely given what we know that Essek gave the Scourger the shiv. But then who the fuck did?

Regarding the cultist, however, I think actually it's likely that Adeen Tasithar is the cultist. Obvs he didn't trade the beacons, but in the episode where Fjord spoke with him, Fjord offered a few details that Essek or the BQ wouldn't have necessarily known (like the code phrase "angel's eye," which I don't think the nein ever had a chance to share with the Xhorhassians; though, if I'm wrong, I would love to hear more on other theories). Essek then says that memory magic is outside the field of Dunamancy, but doesn't actually say he doesn't know any, and he also obvs can't be trusted even if he had said as much. Notably, Nott got whispers (very lucky insight check) after Fjord met Tasithar in the prison and Sam said (in I think the post-97 Talks Machina) that Matt told him Essek was behaving strangely and lying about something in this scene, though Nott only told Caleb that Essek seemed "funky" bc Sam, OOC, thought it would be more interesting for the narrative.

I would assume that Tasithar is still the cultist, though his memories and will were tampered with by both Obann AND Essek.

Essek and the Scourger

The biggest question I have, knowing Essek was the mole the whole time, is what exactly the deal was with the scourger in the cell. When it first happened, my instinct was honestly to think he was the one to smuggle her the tool - I mean, I love him, but I have been suspicious of our floaty hot boi since day one. But I kind of assumed the motivation was to set up a situation like what happened; I thought he wanted her to attack someone so he could smush her and in doing so get the m9 to trust him more. But now that actually seems less likely.

To begin with, he didn’t necessarily know that Caleb would even ask to go inside the cell, or that he would sit close enough to be stabbed if he did. Was the goal to just give her a way out and then the m9 ruined his plans AGAIN by tempting her into attacking Caleb and forcing him to take action? Was she just supposed to escape? Or was it part of his covering his tracks to make it look like someone else was the mole?

Or did he not actually have anything to do with it at all? Why would someone who’d done that agree to let them speak to her corpse? He just crushed her to death, I can’t imagine she’d refuse to incriminate him if they asked her “who gave you that?” That seems like putting himself in absolutely unnecessary danger in order to, what? Gain a little more favor? With the people who are relentlessly trying to befriend him anyway?

And if Essek didn’t do it, then who did? And who, for that matter, was the actual cultist connection Vence was working with? Because we know now that “the mole working with the Cerberus Assembly who stole the beacons” and “the cultist using the cover of the war to weaken the bonds on Tharizdun” are definitely not the same person. So who is?

#to be clear #i don't mean to discount or refute entirely the possibility of Essek providing the shiv #i just don't think it's likely #essek thelyss #critical role #adeen Tasithar

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emotionallychargedtowel · 1 year ago

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get to know me ask game

Tagged by@nieves-de-sugui. Thanks, dearie!

RULES: bold the ones that are true & tag 10 people to do it. (I'm not big on meme tagging, and anyway, I seem to be one of the last people on the planet to get around to this thing.)

APPEARANCE

blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

I've wanted to get some piercings in my ears for a few years now but between brokeness and covid stuff I haven't gotten around to it yet. Someday?

I have two tattoos. One is a reference to a song by a band I used to know and the other is in honor of my kids but also some stuff from my own childhood. Both were done by a close friend of mine. A lot of people don't realize I have them, especially the first one, which is on my ribcage. I want to get more tattoos but that may be tough since I can't go back to Texas anytime soon and the idea of working with a new artist here is a huge bummer--no one could take the place of my friend.

I just got my balayage re-done, with purplish ash blond bits, and it's the best thing I've ever done to my hair. Now if the weather would just cool off enough for me to be able to wear it down!

I had cosmetic surgery in middle school to make my ears stick out less.

I'm not super depressed most of the time but I'm prone to anhedonia (difficulty experiencing positive emotions) so I don't smile much and I seldom laugh aloud. Though since I started ADHD meds I started laughing a bit more, which has been nice.

I used to wear makeup a lot more, but I have allergy stuff that makes it hard to wear eye makeup so I've gotten out of the habit. I miss it. It was a good source of gender euphoria.

I'm not displeased with how I look, but saying I'm pleased with it seems a bit strong.

HOBBIES & TALENTS

I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks// I can do a handstand.

I can play both guitar and piano, but not very well at all.

I love doing visual art but got out of the habit over the years. I always tell myself that someday I'll go back and take some classes or something, when I have more free time. I would love that. For now I just draw things for my kids sometimes.

I can cook without a recipe but I can't bake without one. That way lies madness.

I swim about as well as I play piano and guitar--I can get it done but it may not be that aesthetically pleasing.

Sometimes I enjoy writing. Other times it's more like a compulsion.

I've read books this year but none that were part of a series so far. The last time I read a series was probably when I read Trollope's Barchester Chronicles a couple of years ago. My latest non-series book was Manning Marable's biography of Malcolm X (the audiobook version, which I highly recommend).

I very rarely get to travel and I'm a bit envious of those who do.

RELATIONSHIP

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush // I have a best friend who I’ve known for ten years // my parents are together// I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online

Today is my 16th anniversary with my partner (our getting together anniversary, not the wedding one, which is in December). He was my best friend when we started dating.

The friend I'm closest to at the moment is someone I've only known for about four years. I do have some close friends I've known a lot longer, though.

Making online friends and meeting them in "real life" is the best. It's been way too long since I did that. I've made some really important friends that way, including a friend who was my person of honor at my wedding and one of my closest friends in the city where I currently live.

AESTHETICS

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sun rise // I enjoy rainy days //I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colors // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season

I'm a huge fan of rain and storms. Even though it rains a lot in the PNW, I still miss Central Texas rain. The drizzly days here are nice, don't get me wrong, and overall the weather suits me far better. But I miss big, hard rains with thunder and stuff. I could go for one of those freaky horizontal deluges with golfball-sized hail and thunder that shakes your house. I don't want to be out in it, or not for long. But I'd love to look out the window at one right about now.

Freud wrote about an "oceanic" feeling where human beings have a sense of oneness with the universe (his friend coined the term and he ran with it). It's not a coincidence that this term references the ocean. The ocean just has an effect on the human psyche/nervous system that we haven't begun to understand.

MISCELLANEOUS

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs

I'm only a mom friend on request and with people I'm close to, but I enjoy my mom friend duties when I get the chance.

Are there people who don't enjoy Mexican food? I miss Tex-Mex so danged much.

Sometimes when I can't fall asleep I make up stories. One of my go-to things is stuff that that might happen after the endings of Austen novels. For example, if Mr. Darcy is going to be Jane Bennet's brother-in-law he is going to have to apologize for the bullshit he pulled when he interfered in her relationship with Bingley. And he'd better do a good job, too.

My favorite song to sing in the shower is Great Potential by Freakwater.

I'm usually shy about tagging so I'm going to forego it this time but if you're reading this, please feel free to use me as an excuse to do this!

#question meme thing #getting acquainted #uncharacteristic self-disclosure

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rainblog · 8 years ago

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No hope, no change

Back when the Orange Monster first reared its hideous head in the Republican primaries, I felt a moment of uncharacteristic optimism. Like others, I thought that we might be about to witness a terminal meltdown in the Republican party. Surely, no political party could survive being devoured from within by a Know-Nothing populist cancer of this kind. The result would have to be some kind of fission, with the party disintegrating into its component parts: crazed xenophobes going one way, crypto-libertarians another, the old-school conservatives and the Christians yet another. Split the party badly enough, and it would take them years to regroup enough to mount a challenge to the Democrats.

I say this not because I'm a fan of the Democratic party. They are not my party of choice, but in the Tweedledum-Tweedledee world of American politics, they do have a plausible claim to being the lesser of two evils. It's been hard to fight a growing impression that the GOP is actively at war with the American people, a malicious would-be occupying power with neither integrity nor scruples. The Democrats, while often despicable in their own ways, seemed just a fraction less overtly hostile, a fraction more disposed to listen to evidence and reason, a fraction more inclined to compromise and negotiation instead of eternal war with everyone, a fraction less bent on obtaining power at all costs and by any means.

I certainly don't want a Democratic one-party state, or even a liberal one-party state (not the same thing: anyone who watched the eagerness with which that nice Mr Obama seized the controls of the imperial war machine and the security state built by his predecessors knows that there's a yawning gulf between the values that the Democrats claim to hold dear and the way they behave once they're actually in office). Political monoculture, however enlightened, does no one any good. I want conservatives and libertarians around to keep liberals honest and administer the odd down-to-earth corrective when liberals lose touch with reality (that actually seems more like a 24/7 task; someone get them all some Red Bull and a strong mug of black coffee).

But I hoped that if the GOP imploded, then the Democrats might have a chance to shore up some of the actual progress they'd made over the past eight years: governance based on evidence rather than ideology, concern for environmental issues, civil rights for everyone, baby steps toward a healthcare system that delivers healthcare instead of shareholder dividends, a less jingoistic approach to foreign policy, and more besides. Maybe if the Republicans just took a powder for a decade or so, some of these good things would become entrenched in the culture too deeply to shake off.

And maybe all the virulent toxins washing around in the GOP would drain off into a pocket of black pus somewhere and the revived Republican party would come back better and more honest, having rediscovered the value of actual integrity. Self-destruction, I thought, might make them a better party. They would pass through the fires and emerge nobler and finer than before.

I don't know why I thought that could happen. Looking back, it seems absurdly naive. However ...

It quickly became clear that this was not the way it was going to go. Far from expelling the intruder, the Republicans embraced him. Any hopes I had that the GOP would recoil in horror from this affront to everything they claimed to hold sacred vanished quickly as one high official of the party after another stooped to kiss Trump's malodorous ring. He walked in reeking of power and, like the junkies they are, they all crowded round him demanding their share. If I was hoping for integrity, I was looking in the wrong place.

Still, if the Republicans weren't about to have their moment of agonizing re-appraisal, then maybe the Democrats would. Perhaps the Trumpocalypse would shake up the party, put some steel in their backbone, drag them back to the grassroots. I didn't really want to see the party go Sanders-wards: Bernie's heart is surely in the right place, but I don't think he's the right man for the job. It will take someone with a much more nuanced understanding of both American politics and the necessary evil of capitalism to create a workable social democracy in the United States. With most Americans liking the idea of socialism about as much as they'd like the idea of a piñata full of yellowjackets, anything that even hints at the S-word will always be a hard sell. I don't think there's anyone in the current crop of Democrats with the chops to actually pull it off.

But perhaps, I thought, defeat might push the Democrats to re-evaluate their methods and their priorities. Maybe they would come back as a real party of the people, not just a party of the people who live in the Beltway.

Let's be quite clear on this: I think that both major American parties -- oh, and the whole two-party system, come to that -- are overdue for a profound shake-up. I don't believe that either one truly serves the interests of the people of the United States, nor do I think that either has the maturity and wisdom to live up to the awesome responsibility of managing the world's pre-eminent superpower on an increasingly fragile and fractious planet. But if we couldn't strip the Republican Party down to its essential elements and start over from first principles, then maybe the Democrats would get a much-needed overhaul and lube job. Some good had to come out of the whole catastrophe.

Wrong again.

Besides blighting Hillary's chances by stoking the boiler of the Republican innuendo machine (Benghazi! Emails! Pizzagate!), the strategically-timed disclosures of Wikileaks revealed what we all already knew: that the Democratic party protects its own. At its heart is a cosy coterie of career politicians who serve themselves first. No one in that crowd is about to press their hand to their heart and say "We got it desperately wrong, we have failed the American people, we have to change ourselves."

Currently, the Democrats in Congress are mostly keeping busy voting to approve the Trump administration's heinous cabinet picks. I'm not sure why -- with a vanishingly few honorable exceptions -- they won't even vote a token protest against his nominees. Maybe they're afraid that if they do the Republicans won't like them any more. On the rare occasions when the Democrats try to get sneaky, the Republicans simply do an end-run around them, changing the rules on the fly. As always, it's like the Republicans invited the Democrats to a rumble and showed up with spiked baseball bats and weighted pool cues, while the Democrats came holding armfuls of balloon animals. Nancy Pelosi is reportedly keen to find 'common ground' with the Republicans, presumably ground that they can lie down on while the Republicans walk all over them.

There's a lot of talk about 'the Resistance' or 'the Rebellion' lately (we've all been watching way too much 'Star Wars'). But the resistance is where it's always been, down at the grassroots. The people who are marching in the streets understand that the government has been overtaken by a hostile power, a power that needs to be fought tooth and claw for years on end if we're not all to be crushed, liberal and conservative alike. The Democratic Party (pace, again, those few honorable exceptions) is no part of this resistance. Rather, it's an obstacle to it. Come 2018, the Democratic party machine will fight with all its might to prevent the safe seats reserved for party insiders from being 'stolen' by anyone who might actually offer a principled opposition to the loathsome nexus of bigotry and special interests that is the Trump administration. The best thing they can do would be to get out of the way and let the people fight back. That's also the last thing they have any intention of doing.

So here we are. Donald Trump, the repellent 'face man' for corporate looting and Steven Bannon's sophomore experiments in timocracy, has taken a narrow Electoral College win as a mandate to embark on a scorched-earth hundred-day campaign aimed at devastating whatever's left of civil society, grinding the rule of law to dust and asset-stripping the nation. The Republicans, far from suffering the much-needed shock that might reform them, have been richly rewarded for abandoning their few remaining principles and have made total toxicity the new party standard. Congressional Democrats are the same spinelessly-compliant shambles that they've always been.

I have given up hope that either party will voluntarily change, except for the worse. The crisis of 2016 has not made either one better, as I once hoped it might. From now on, it's up to us. Put not your trust in princes. The Republic has to be saved from the bottom up, and protest and civil disobedience are the only tools we have left. "If power is blocked at the ballot box, we'll vote it in the open streets".

#politics #usa #Donald Trump #GOP #Democrats #political parties #democracy

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sciencespies · 6 years ago

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The Coming Computational Approach To Psychiatry

https://sciencespies.com/news/the-coming-computational-approach-to-psychiatry/

The Coming Computational Approach To Psychiatry

Machine Learning For Mental Health

Depositphotos

Introduction

Any disturbance in human behavior has immediate and future consequences and costs. So, when a growing number of humans from across nations suffer from some form of mental illness, the cost and consequences to countries’ economic and societal security understandably skyrocket. This is a crisis that is becoming increasingly catastrophic for all nations, and as a result, everything seems to be at risk.

As countries confront the complexity of mental health illnesses, a lack of understanding of its root causes, genetic predispositions, biochemical workings, ineffective treatments, and absent controls are worsening the crisis. Psychiatry today still relies on mostly voluntary patient reporting and physician observation based on clinical symptoms or discussions alone for clinical decision making. When most psychiatric diagnoses still rely on just talking to the patient, clearly there is a need for better ways to diagnose mental diseases. Now when it comes to treatment, even today, most psychiatrists still go through a trial-and-error approach to determine the right medication in the proper dosage to improve patient outcomes.

When millions of people around the globe suffer from varying degrees of mental disorders, the questions are (i) whether the current model of psychiatry is a viable answer to the growing crisis (ii) whether the growing crisis can be contained, and (iii) whether computational technology can provide a better solution?

Acknowledging this emerging reality, Risk Group initiated a much-needed discussion on Machine Learning For Mental Health Diagnosis with Dr. Jamie Feusner M.D. from UCLA based in the USA on Risk Roundup.

Disclosure: I am the CEO of Risk Group LLC.

Risk Group discusses Machine Learning for Mental Health with Dr. Jamie Feusner M.D., Lead Author of the Publication Machine Learning on Neuroimaging Data (MRIs) to diagnose Mental Health Disorders (Anorexia Nervosa and Body Dysmorphic Disorder), Professor of Psychiatry and Biobehavioral Sciences from Brain Research Institute at UCLA based in the USA.

There is a need for powerful tools, techniques, and controls that can bring timely diagnosis, treatment, and containment options. It seems many of the emerging computational technology solutions with machine learning at their core offer hope for not only timely diagnosis of mental health diseases but also for effective treatments and reversing the decline in mental wellness.

Emerging Computational Approach

The growing mental health crisis necessitates a solution that is timely, effective, affordable, and accessible. To be able to develop that requires a closer understanding and relationship between neurobiology, the environment, and mental/behavioral symptoms that can be understood in computational terms. In doing so, this will bring us a potential for re-conceptualizing psychiatric disorders and generating new hypotheses for disease causation, diagnosis, and treatment. That brings us to an important question: when we still don’t understand whether abnormalities in the brain lead to psychiatric symptoms, is there a credible way to connect mental health disorders and their associated brain network abnormalities to behavioral symptoms using a data-driven computational approach?

While neither the sensory data nor the interactions of the human brain and mind with the environment are easy to understand, a data-driven machine learning approach that can quickly find relationships and patterns from the diverse data sets and its integration points is becoming clear.

Computational psychiatry seems to be a promising new approach as machine learning methods are proving very useful in diagnosis as well as treating. The emerging machine learning algorithms have the potential to take in vast amounts of data about human behavior and the brain. It can learn about specific mental health conditions, thereby helping to predict (i) who may be at risk for a particular disorder or (ii) what treatment a patient who has already been diagnosed with a mental health condition will best respond to and (iii) whether any associated crisis be contained?

The emerging use of computational modeling: data analysis, machine learning, and artificial intelligence for inferring mechanisms which generate unusual brain activity and behavioral challenges reveals the need for a more in-depth understanding of the brain. But the question remains: do we understand the brain well enough to be able to move towards computational psychiatry?

Machine Learning Models

As mathematical theories of cognition are rapidly emerging, how will machine learning help identify biomarkers for mental diseases? Reports are emerging for identifying brain abnormalities and associated patterns of changes in brain networks that are believed to be strongly related to psychiatric symptoms — in particular, mood, psychosis, fear, and disruptive behavior. All of these can be associated with a different pattern of uncharacteristic connectivity across the human brain. Individually and collectively, this will allow healthcare professionals to use brain patterns to guide their understanding of psychiatric disorders in a fundamentally different way. That brings us to an important question: would understanding the biology of mental illnesses allow us to develop better treatments?

Research has been accelerating on understanding the biomarkers and patterns of depression, schizophrenia, alzheimer’s disease, anorexia nervosa, and more by using ML techniques. Now it needs to be understood that any and all mental health disorders are also vague, with overlapping symptoms and multiple root causes among different diagnoses. But, by combining tools like neuroimaging and integrating with patient’s other data and environmental variables, an algorithm can learn how to diagnose disorders with speed and accuracy. As a result, a range of benefits across the areas of diagnosis, treatment, and support, research, and clinical administration, along with potential control mechanisms, are emerging rapidly. While the majority of applications emerging are focusing on the detection and diagnosis of mental health conditions, it is evident that there is significant room for the application of ML to other areas of psychology, psychiatry, and mental health like crisis containment.

That brings us to an important question: as machine learning identifies brain-based dimensions of mental health disorders, what will it change for mental health professionals as well as patients?

Machine Learning meets the need for a much-needed personalization of psychiatry to transform healthcare by identifying biomarkers and by predicting mental health crises and perhaps even containing the mental health crises. Machine learning can also be a valuable technique to help predict which individual may be facing a mental health crisis. As the relevant mental health biomarkers are further identified, psychiatrists and other professionals would be in a better position to determine who is and will be at risk of developing a particular mental health disorder. That would not only allow them to choose and then track the progress of a specific intervention, but also identify patterns that can help professionals cluster patients based on biomarkers outside of what is currently done or possible. These clusters can also be based on the severity of the illness, particular symptoms, or potential consequences. By looking at the evolving patterns, consequences, clusters, and who responds to what treatment and when psychiatrists will be able to do a better job of determining relevant sub-types of various mental disorders and determining which treatments will be most useful. Hopefully, this can contain many crises that are proving to be catastrophic.

While many patients are diagnosed with mental health illnesses, there are also millions, perhaps that has not been diagnosed and need to be diagnosed. Machine learning application will likely help develop tools to allow scanning of all individuals from across nations and diagnose those who face mental health challenges. Individually and collectively, this will likely expand healthcare capabilities and control mechanisms and perhaps play a decisive role in diagnosing mental health conditions of the undiagnosed and speeding up needed treatment for the future of humanity.

Researchers believe that the emerging machine learning techniques may be able to analyze personal data from individual patients through a combination of self-reported data or data passively uploaded from a smartphone or another device, to warn physicians that a crisis may be imminent. When plans are being made to have an algorithm be able to detect a disorder in real time, this ability and capability could find broad security applications. That brings us to an important question: while computational approaches will bring great potential for psychiatric disorder identification, treatment, and control, what will be its impact? Are we prepared for the nature of surveillance that could come?

Emerging Applications

There are many advances in AI/ML applications that are emerging for mental health from across nations. Machine-learning tools are rapidly supplementing mental health diagnosis as seen in Ginger.io’s virtual mental health services that include video and text-based therapy and coaching sessions to Quartet Health, which screens patient medical histories and behavioral patterns to uncover undiagnosed mental health problems. Dr. Bot, a chatbot counseling tool, and Woebot, developed by clinical psychologists at Stanford University, are also catching attention. Moreover, the University of Southern California Institute for Creative Technologies’ virtual therapist named Ellie can hint at what’s ahead. These are just a few examples. That brings us to important questions: individually and collectively, how effective are these tools and services? Should nations make them easily accessible to its citizens?

Complex Challenges

AI/ML can be both a blessing and a curse as digital tools, data, and identity pose privacy, surveillance, and security risks. Moreover, the emerging AI/ML tools pose a very different kind of surveillance and security risk as these tools can get access to everyone’s most intimate details. The emerging AI tool can also use speech patterns, facial patterns, emotions, etc. to detect mental illness. Each of these emerging capabilities can be trained to be biased. This might result in false alerts, harassment, and incorrect diagnoses—and will likely be a significant issue as it gets ready to play a prominent role in healthcare.

That brings us to essential questions: while the current mental health diagnosis is mostly safe from design and bias flaws, can we achieve the same effectiveness from AI backed mental health treatments? If not, what kind of safeguards will need to be in place?

While there are visible indicators that mental health diagnosis is being supplemented by machine-learning tools that would likely create better outcomes at a reduced cost, there is certainly a need for careful regulation to make sure that large-scale diagnosis and treatment protocols remain safe and effective.

What Next?

Mental health is going through a silent revolution. Amidst the democratization of destruction, as we try to restore the ability of humans to think about the future, we are potentially not only solving mental health disorders but also instilling the culture of strategic security for the future of humanity. It will be interesting to see where this revolution will take us.

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nrip · 6 years ago

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What Policies Should Dentists Be Aware of When Marketing to Patients?

Let’s face it, if you want more patients, then you are going to need to do some marketing. But times have changed, haven’t they? Marketing is not like it used to be, especially for dentists who relied heavily on word-of-mouth referrals. Years ago, it was easier to obtain new patients. These days, however, it’s often difficult to even get noticed, let alone stand out among the many (sometimes dozens) practices in your market.

Before most people began using the Internet, marketing for dentists primarily involved placing ads in the Yellow Pages. It was a great way to attract new patients, but things have certainly changed since then. Patients have several ways to find a dentist and are more particular when making a choice.

Now, patients often try to self diagnose what is wrong with their teeth and gums, and if they end up needing a dentist, they’ll perform an online search, or check with their insurance and choose a dentist who they feel fits their needs. Patients are a lot more savvy about their options these days. First to appear in the Yellow Pages doesn’t mean anything.

As a result of these industry-wide changes, dentists (and all doctors really) have had to get their marketing online and adapt their digital marketing strategies to not only find, but also acquire their ideal patients. Furthermore, dental marketing strategies have evolved alongside market trends and government regulations.

When it comes to marketing your dental office, there are some policies that you should be aware of.

Is Your Website Following Google Quality Guidelines?

Find out now by downloading our Google Quality Guidelines Checklist

Federal Trade Commission Act (FTC Act)

When creating and delivering dental promotions, it’s good to start out by reviewing the Federal Trade Commission Act (FTC Act).

As a general rule, you can’t claim or imply overall superiority over your competition when it comes to the quality of dental services offered. Because your audience won’t be able to properly verify these claims without having to visit every dental office in the area, it’s best to avoid this kind of claim altogether.

In addition, you should also follow the rules we’ve outlined below to avoid violating the FTC Act:

Don't mislead or deceive (via partial disclosure of relative facts)

Don't make false claims to create unjustified expectations

Don't guarantee uncharacteristic results

Don't distort facts

Don't misrepresent charges

Don't suggest unusual conditions

This goes hand-in-hand with the American Dental Association’s Code of Professional Conduct, Section 5F:

Although any dentist may advertise, no dentist shall advertise or solicit patients in any form of communication in a manner that is false or misleading in any material aspect.

American Dental Association

As a business professional, this makes sense. You don’t want your patients’ expectations to be misaligned with what you offer as a dental practice.

Remember to be careful with the words you choose. Before publishing anything to the market, it’s a good idea to have an outside party review your marketing materials to verify that all messages are clear before publication and that you are not in violation of any of the conduct codes set forth by government and industry agencies. Sometimes this can be hard to spot, which is why hiring experienced professionals is worth the value it can add.

Marketing Dental Practices and HIPAA Compliance

If you’re reading this, chances are you know that internet marketing for dentists can transform your practice. It’s no secret that the internet can help you build a robust practice that provides help to many patients.

Online marketing services such as search engine optimization (SEO), social media, and email marketing can attract a knowledgeable group of patients. There patients will essentially make a decision based on their own research results, and if you can help ‘feed’ them information, then you will be seen as the expert. SEO helps to position your dental practice in front of the right audience, but it’s not an overnight success. It takes a lot of dedication on behalf of the dentist to make those efforts work long-term.

In other words, if you’re not using effective internet marketing strategies, your potential patients will have a difficult time finding you. Even worse, they will probably find a competitor who is marketing effectively. With all of the ways the internet provides you to reach patients, it also provides your competitors the same access. Patients have a right to choose, and they might not always choose your practice.

When it comes to being HIPAA compliant, remember patient privacy above all else. When developing your healthcare marketing strategy, create campaigns that don’t include the use of patient data (regardless of whether they’re existing patients or potential patients). These are simple strategies you can follow to ensure you are not in violation of any codes of conduct and rules.

Overall, you want complete clarity when it comes to the rules around public and private data, remembering especially that sharing patient data is not okay.

Internet Marketing for Dentists and Marketing Data

Did you know that you can target specific individual profiles online to put your dental practice in front of the right people? One of the easiest ways to do this is with Facebook Ads.

If you want more details about how to run successful Facebook ads, check out our post regarding Facebook.

As a business owner making advertisements and claims, you are allowed to collect certain types of data to make your campaigns more effective. However, this information is usually limited to the following:

Name

Phone Number

Email address

You can collect this information through social media, emails, surveys, online forms, or by other approved means of collecting user data.

The most effective way to obtain this information from website visitors is by giving them something in return for sharing that data. For example, providing a downloadable document that teaches patients something is a simple way to get patients to offer up their email. This could be something like a free PDF download on your top 5 ways to keep your teeth healthy. Patients who want this information will submit their email address to receive the document in their inbox. This is referred to as email marketing.

It may look something like the below. (Compliments of Techila)

You can collect this information through social media, emails, surveys, online forms, or by other approved means of collecting user data.

You don’t always have to give away a free download to get someone’s email address to start marketing to them through email. While you can’t (and shouldn’t) just spam email people without their consent, you can obtain emails through other methods.

For example, you might run a special where you offer free Invisalign consultations. In order to book a consultation, you ask the patient to sign up and give you their email.

You can see how that can be effective in helping to grow your email list, as well as your marketing reach, and potential patient list. All that’s happening is you are asking those that have an interest in a service if they’d like to talk to you about it a little bit more. Most people will oblige.

Because the information that you collected from the online forms is marketing-oriented (and not anything to do with any relationship with your dental practice), you’re allowed to use this data to contact them directly.

Private data can’t be used in conjunction with internet marketing, but you must take necessary steps to avoid breaking the rules. If you fail to do so and break HIPAA rules, then you will be faced with not only losing your license, but also possible jail time. We’re not just talking about email lists here; we’re talking about violation of patient privacy.

The best way to get around this issue is to manage your patient data separately. If you’re using customer relationship management software (CRM) to manage appointments, make sure that it isn’t linked to the database with patient health data.

When Do Policy Issues Arise?

Policy violations and problems can come up when your digital marketing campaigns include Protected Health Information (PHI). Although most marketing strategies for dental practices will not involve any private health information, we recommend that you thoroughly read the code to fully grasp what’s allowed. Educating yourself on the rules and regulations is the best way to stay ahead of the problems.

PHI essentially has two vital components:

1. Health-related data must be comprised of information related to the past, present, or future physical care the patient received and any payment that was received.

2. The data has to be specifically refer to the dates associated with patient care, last name, address, email address, telephone number, social security number, medical record number, health plan, photographs, fingerprints, or voice prints.

Basically, for problems related to PHI compliance to occur, the data must include both of these components.

Where To Turn Now

If you’re feeling a bit apprehensive about moving forward with internet marketing after reading this, then don’t worry!

We aren’t trying to scare you. It’s our job to inform dentists of how we can help them avoid such violations.

Before launching any marketing campaign, take some time to ensure that you properly investigate your marketing campaign fully and make sure that you’re not violating any government policies.

Let’s take an in-depth look at PHI with the help of some examples to clarify solutions.

Policy Violation Example 1

You have a patient who is an NBA star from your local team and you want to take advantage of this relationship.

You want to promote the fact that this athlete comes to your practice on your social media platforms. This seems like a logical way to promote the business and ride a little claim to fame, which makes sense, right?

It can add credibility to your practice, help you build your online presence, and attract new patients.

But you didn’t get permission from the basketball player to share this information or you failed to get signed consent.

In this scenario, if you shared this information without permission, it is a clear violation and improper use of your patient’s private health information.

Even if it’s exciting and flattering to have celebrity patients, you have to respect the fact that they are also protected by HIPAA - which your practice needs to adhere to.

If you think that you or your staff can’t maintain confidentiality, don’t accept a celebrity patient.

If you think that you, or you staff can't maintain confidentiality, don't accept a celebrity patient.

Click to Tweet

Policy Violation Example 2

Let’s say that you’re building an email list to send to your current patients. To create this list you collect email addresses from two locations:

Intake form (in the office)

Your website

Both the form and website state that patients aren’t required to share any information as it’s for marketing purposes only. There’s no request on the site or the form asking for private information (and the email address is optional).

However, you also state that the information submitted will be used for marketing purposes, but private patient information won’t be included.

As you want to send them the most relevant information, you sync their contact information with your practice management software.

Can you do this?

NO!

No obtaining information in the guise of marketing and then using their personally identifying, private, healthcare records.

Policy Violation Example 3

You want to start a dental hygiene newsletter to target new patients. A lot of your current patients have already signed up for the newsletter on your website. Further, many regular patients also show interest in receiving the newsletter when you mention it during appointments.

You go ahead and compile email addresses from the website, along with those email addresses from the patients who expressed interest in the newsletter.

In this scenario, your newsletter campaign is only half HIPAA compliant. The email addresses that you collected from the website are compliant while the list you created verbally violates HIPAA regulations.

Even though the patient gave you consent verbally, no written consent was acquired to add them to the newsletter list.

And seeing as they are your existing patients, they have not been properly informed as to how their information will be used.

Digital Engagement is Rewarding, But Requires Care

Considering all these rules and regulations, you may feel like throwing your hands up in the air and avoid getting started with marketing your dental practice online.

But is that the right choice?

The short answer is no. A better choice would be to engage in social media the right way.

If you take the necessary precautions when collecting patient or potential patient data, you can confidently execute your marketing efforts while staying compliant without worry.

Don’t be afraid of getting started with social media because the rewards can be huge. The best approach is to develop strict guidelines for yourself and your staff to follow. At the end of the day, traditional marketing methods like the Yellow Pages are now almost irrelevant and avoiding online engagement would mean missing out on opportunities to expand your practice.

Thousands of patients in your area are already active on social media, so even if you avoid it, you might already have a presence on Google, Yelp, and Facebook. It’s better to take ownership of your profiles and manage it on a regular basis rather than lose out on the opportunities.

One way to take advantage of the social media opportunities for your dental practice is to create local listings on these websites, and add your social media profiles to the listing. This approach also offers SEO benefits because you are getting a link to your social profile, and Google (as well as other search engines) will see your business as more relevant. And of course, we know that claiming local directory listings such as this is beneficial, and can help improve your local search results. Remember that internet marketing is an ongoing process.

What’s The Best Way To Share Pictures and Videos Online?

If you want to share pictures and videos of your practice online that feature patients, past or current, you must obtain written consent before taking any videos or pictures of patients. Simply give them a waiver to sign during new patient intake or while updating information of current patients and inform them that from time to time you like to showcase pictures on the website, social media platforms, or wherever else you intend to use the photos. You can also take it a step further and verify consent during each visit.

When you take pictures of patients, have an idea as to how you will use them ahead of time so the patient can understand the motive for wanting the pictures in the first place. You can also ask patients during their visit to like your posts and share them on certain social media platforms. If you upload to your Facebook Page, for example, you can even ask patients to tag themselves in your pictures.

This can, in turn, drive more visitors to your page without the fear of violating any regulations.

It’s also good practice to be careful in allowing patients to take pictures at your practice. Patients might take pictures of their kids or themselves while at an appointment, but these images might include other patients in the background and this can cause issues.

It’s not likely, but possible. And you want to minimize risk when it comes to these guidelines and ensure that everyone feels safe in your dental office.

When you develop your own photography policy, consider including rules on patient rights at your premises as well and post this policy in multiple places in your office. Ensuring patients have access to this information and are reminded of your photography policies when they enter the premises will help avoid problems.

Compliance in Marketing is Crucial and Simple

Being in compliance with these rules and regulations is simple but takes practice. A good rule of thumb is to always act in the best of interest of your patient. Think about times in your life when you were not treated fairly in email lists or when someone had your contact information that you didn’t want them to have. If you aren’t sure, ask. How has government regulation impacted your marketing efforts?

Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments section below. We’d love to know what you are doing to stay compliant in your dental practice marketing efforts

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maxwellyjordan · 6 years ago

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Justice Kennedy: A justice who changed his mind

Daniel Hemel is an assistant professor of law at the University of Chicago Law School.

Justice Anthony Kennedy’s majority opinion in the online-sales-tax case South Dakota v. Wayfair was his final — and most significant — decision involving the dormant commerce clause doctrine, which prohibits state and local governments from passing laws that discriminate against or unduly burden interstate commerce unless Congress consents. Wayfair also was a sharp break from Kennedy’s dormant commerce clause jurisprudence over the preceding three decades. Before Wayfair, Kennedy was one of the most ardent defenders of the much-maligned dormant commerce clause and one of the most reliable votes in favor of litigants who challenged state and local laws on the ground that they violated that doctrine. Wayfair, in which the majority overturned decades-old precedents that had prohibited states from collecting sales taxes on their residents’ transactions with out-of-state online and mail-order retailers, was a rare dormant commerce clause case in which Kennedy cast a decisive vote on the states’ side.

Justice Kennedy with opinion in South Dakota v. Wayfair (Art Lien)

Although Wayfair was in many ways uncharacteristic of Kennedy’s dormant commerce clause jurisprudence, his jurisprudence in this area was emblematic of his larger body of opinions and votes. First, Kennedy was a faint-hearted federalist. While his rhetoric regarding federalism was lofty, his votes in concrete cases often did not match up. His most influential dormant commerce clause opinions prior to Wayfair included C & A Carbone Inc. v. Town of Clarkstown, in which he wrote for a five-justice majority to strike down a municipal ordinance that required solid waste generated within the town’s boundaries to be deposited at a designated processing facility, and Granholm v. Heald, in which he wrote for a 5-4 majority invalidating state laws that limited the ability of out-of-state wineries to sell directly to consumers. He also cast a crucial fifth vote to strike down a Maryland personal-income-tax law on the basis of the dormant commerce clause in Comptroller v. Wynne, and dissented from several majority opinions upholding state laws challenged on dormant commerce clause grounds.

These dormant commerce clause decisions are of a piece with Kennedy’s votes on much higher-profile issues. In abortion-related cases, the presence or absence of a state or local government on either side of the “v.” rarely made a difference to Kennedy’s decisions. He cast an outcome-determinative vote in Planned Parenthood v. Casey to strike down a Pennsylvania provision that generally required women seeking abortions to notify their husbands; he joined a 5-3 majority in Whole Woman’s Health v. Hellerstedt to invalidate parts of a Texas law that imposed stringent requirements on physicians who performed abortions and on clinics where those procedures took place; and most recently, in National Institute of Family and Life Advocates v. Becerra, he voted to strike down a California law that required licensed “crisis pregnancy centers” to notify women about the availability of abortions. So too in cases implicating LGBT rights, Kennedy often found himself writing majority opinions that held that state laws and procedures were constitutionally infirm — including in Romer v. Evans, Lawrence v. Texas, Obergefell v. Hodges and Masterpiece Cakeshop v. Colorado Civil Rights Commission. If there was a theme running throughout these decisions, federalism was not it.

Second, Kennedy’s dormant commerce clause jurisprudence also illustrated that he — though sometimes described as a centrist — certainly was not a judicial minimalist. Rarely was he content to stay his hand and allow another branch to move first. As he wrote in his dissent in Department of Revenue of Kentucky v. Davis, courts must intervene to strike down state laws that unduly burden interstate commerce because otherwise, we might end up waiting “for decades until Congress can act.” Indeed, Wayfair — though unusual among Kennedy’s dormant commerce clause decisions in that there he voted to pare back the doctrine rather than to extend its reach — was nonetheless consistent with Kennedy’s general impatience with legislative self-correction. His majority opinion waved off Chief Justice John Roberts’ suggestion in dissent that the court should “leave these matters to Congress.” The court, according to Kennedy, should clean up doctrinal messes in the dormant commerce clause area “whether or not Congress can or will act in response.”

Third, Kennedy’s views of the dormant commerce clause showed how starkly his own jurisprudential approach diverged from the originalism and textualism that are now in vogue on the right. Kennedy was a dormant commerce clause true believer: He never questioned the validity of the doctrine, despite the fact that it is never clearly stated in the Constitution’s text. By contrast, Justice Antonin Scalia called the dormant commerce clause “a judicial fraud”; Justice Clarence Thomas said that the doctrine should be discarded; Justice Neil Gorsuch has suggested that he might agree with Thomas; and Justice Samuel Alito has indicated that he too may have dormant commerce clause doubts. For Scalia and Thomas — and perhaps also for Alito and Gorsuch — a commitment to originalism and textualism can override nearly two centuries of case law recognizing the dormant commerce clause doctrine. For Kennedy, who was never as enthralled by originalism or textualism as some of his conservative colleagues, that notion was a nonstarter.

Finally, Kennedy was, by almost any measure, a profoundly pro-business justice. His dormant commerce clause decisions demonstrated this tendency: Whether it was a solid waste processing company challenging a municipal ordinance (C & A Carbone) or a California winery challenging state limits on alcohol distribution (Granholm v. Heald), Kennedy was generally friendly toward business litigants challenging state taxes and regulations on dormant commerce clause grounds. And Kennedy’s pro-business tendencies were not limited to the dormant commerce clause context: He was a reliable vote in favor of arbitration of employment and consumer claims, limits on class actions and — with an occasional exception — federal pre-emption of state-law liability for business enterprises. According to one study, Kennedy was the sixth most consistent vote in favor of business litigants among 35 justices from 1946 to 2011, ahead of Scalia and Chief Justice William Rehnquist, with whom he overlapped for most of his career.

And then there is Wayfair. Not only did Kennedy write the majority opinion freeing states to extend their sales taxes to transactions between their residents and out-of-state retailers, but he also seeded the litigation with his concurring opinion in Direct Marketing Association v. Brohl, in which he made the unprompted suggestion that the “legal system should find an appropriate case for this Court to reexamine” two decades-old decisions that had limited states’ power to tax remote sales. Even more remarkably, one of those decades-old decisions — Quill v. North Dakota — was a case in which he had agreed with the majority’s result back when he was the second most junior justice on the court in 1992.

But Wayfair was not an outlier in all respects. For one, it would oversimplify matters to say that Kennedy’s vote went against business interests, notwithstanding the fact that the e-commerce companies Wayfair, Overstock.com and Newegg were aligned on the losing side against South Dakota. Brick-and-mortar stores like Lowe’s, Home Depot, Target and Walmart wholeheartedly supported South Dakota’s efforts to tax online sales. Wayfair was a business-versus-business case as well as a state-versus-business dispute.

Second, Wayfair was, as framed by Kennedy, as much a case about the “Cyber Age” as it was a case about the 19th-century dormant commerce clause. And when it came to new technology, Kennedy was something of a wild card. “The forces and directions of the Internet are so new, so protean, and so far reaching that courts must be conscious that what they say today might be obsolete tomorrow,” Kennedy wrote in Packingham v. North Carolina last term. Those words might be disconcerting to someone who valued doctrinal stability, but doctrinal stability was never Kennedy’s lodestar.

Last but not least, Wayfair exhibited what even critics can concede was — at least at times — one of Kennedy’s greatest virtues: the ability to change his mind. On abortion, Obamacare and ultimately online sales taxes, Kennedy was willing to acknowledge his own fallibility. His flip-flops could be maddening, but a justice who occasionally flip-flops is almost certainly preferable to a justice who sticks to his guns just so that he doesn’t have to admit that he was once wrong. Wayfair — as Kennedy’s final majority opinion, and the final time in which he reversed course — was a fitting swan song.

[Disclosure: Goldstein & Russell, P.C., whose attorneys contribute to this blog in various capacities, is among the counsel to the petitioner in Wayfair. The author of this post is not affiliated with the firm.]

The post Justice Kennedy: A justice who changed his mind appeared first on SCOTUSblog.

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#law #justice

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bonomalumsuperatepersona-blog · 8 years ago

Text

The United Cult of Trump

I have come to the conclusion that Trump acts like a cult leader who suffers from Delusion of Grandeur.

In this blog, I hope to show you why I came to this realization and not the conclusion that he is a dictator in the making .

First, let us look at the Delusion of Grandeur claim.

When looking at the definition of this Delusion in the Encyclopedia it tells us

"People with a delusion of grandeur often have the conviction of having some great but unrecognized talent or insight. They may also believe they have made some important discovery that others don’t understand or appreciate."

Now we know Trump does this, but a lot of other people do as well, it's this next part that makes it more cemented.

"Sometimes, in popular language, this disorder may be known as “megalomania,” but is more accurately referred to as narcissistic personality disorder if it is a core component of a person’s personality and identity. In such disorders, the person has a greatly out-of-proportion sense of their own worth and value in the world. People with this issue can also sometimes have a taste for the finer, more extravagant things in life."

Now, this part makes things more interesting, as Trump has been cited to say that his resorts have helped a community with jobs for the people there(this is also a bit why I tied it to him acting like a cult leader, more about that later). This could be linked to the out-of-proportion sense of their own worth and value in the world. During the election race, he was also cited to have estimated his net worth much higher than fact checkers found out it was, even after he was told it was not how high he said it was, did he keep telling his worth was his previous stated number.(which can also be tied to cult leader behavior)

Another "talent" he has shared was about the times he had been on times Magazine and shows more Delusion of grandeur

"Time magazine—and I have been on their cover, like, 14 or 15 times. I think we have the all-time record in the history of Time magazine. Like, if Tom Brady is on the cover, it's one time, because he won the Super Bowl or something, right? I've been on it for 15 times this year. I don’t think that's a record, Mike, that can ever be broken."

This is a rather bold claim and when we fact check thist we find out that Richard Nixon featured on Time's cover 55 times. Time told Politico's Playbook Mr Trump had been on the cover 11 times.

Making it that he has this "Talent" Of being on the cover of times Magazine. (yes he did n ot state that with those words but we can read between the lines)

But it was not until this part

"Grandiose delusions may have religious content, such as the person believes he or she has received a special message from God or another deity."

that I realized the assumption I made might actually be true. as trump said on 21st of January at the CIA headquarters.

"The rain should have scared them away. But God looked down and he said, 'We’re not going to let it rain on your speech.' In fact, when I first started I said, "Oh no." First line, I got hit by a couple of drops. And I said, 'Oh, this is, this is too bad, but we’ll go right through it.' But the truth is that it stopped immediately. It was amazing. And then it became really sunny, and then I walked off and it poured right after I left."

And we all know that is not Treu either and by the way he said it, it even looked like he was saying it like it was a message from god to him that he was the right guy in the white house.

The religious content of the Delusion is why I suddenly realized that Trump showed signs of cult (the bad kind) leaders.

So googeling for warning signs i found this list

. Absolute authoritarianism without meaningful accountability.

Now I am not shure if Trump is showing this behavior, or not. but I think he does, seeing his travel(muslim) ban tries twice, from countries where terrorists have not came from, this would make the accountability for it meaningless. (If i am wrong LEt me know please.)

. No tolerance for questions or critical inquiry.

This one has to be crystal clear, Trump has turned away protestors (roughly) and reporters who were critical of him. Even during press events he ignored or belittled critical reporters.

. No meaningful financial disclosure regarding budget, expenses such as an independently audited financial statement.

Well, He promised to release his taxes (right?) but so far has only done it for taxes from over 2 decades ago, making that disclosure meaningless. It means we know little about his financial state right now.

. Unreasonable fear about the outside world, such as impending catastrophe, evil conspiracies and persecutions.

Well we all know about the Wiretap accusations he hurled at Obama, We also know he is so fearful of the Mexicans that he wants to build a border wall to keep them from sending their worst. And let's not forget that travel ban again

. There is no legitimate reason to leave, former followers are always wrong in leaving, negative or even evil.

Now I won't call it leaving, but Trump used to be close with the Clintons. When he run against Hillary she suddenly was evil incarnate.

. Former members often relate the same stories of abuse and reflect a similar pattern of grievances.

Once again not really former members, but Employees have reported against Trump for sexual harassment and abuse. Business owners have similar grievances with him not footing bills and such.

. There are records, books, news articles, or television programs that document the abuses of the group/leader.

The news has reported on it, in most media have there been accounts of what he has been accused of doing (I say accused as it has yet to go before court)

. Followers feel they can never be "good enough".

This is once again not really a Follower thing and yet again it might as well be. This is about the stories his children tell, they have had the feeling not being good enough, and always trying harder to impress Trump

. The group/leader is always right.

Well, this is a dead giveaway is it not?

. The group/leader is the exclusive means of knowing "truth" or receiving validation, no other process of discovery is really acceptable or credible.

Did Anybody say Fake news? and the claims he has made, a lot of them, and when he was ousted as being wrong, he kept telling it was fake news and he had alternate fact (ok Conway said that but that is a part of cult mentality.)

This Is because when we look at cult members and the warning signs of people in a cult we see another list

. Extreme obsessiveness regarding the group/leader resulting in the exclusion of almost every practical consideration.

A lot of trump voters i see online (and on the news) show this trait, they see him as the only one who can save the USA, and believe the things that come out of his mouth even when presented with facts do they disregard it.

I seen a thing on women calling them self the Trumpettes, And a lot of Trump voters show this behavior as well. As a lot of people who voted trump feel they did so because the and through him they would make America great again.

Whenever the group/leader is criticized or questioned it is characterized as "persecution".

This is also seen a lot on social media, People speaking about hired protesters, and calling it a witch hunt on Trump.

Uncharacteristically stilted and seemingly programmed conversation and mannerisms, cloning of the group/leader in personal behavior.

Her we get to the meat and bones of the "Grab them by the pussy" thing, people defended Trump(even women) by saying it was just Locker room talk, Something they had heard from others or in the media that seems to love trump. (not all media loves him, but thats the best way i could put it) His calls for violence against protestors have been done, and could be seen as a somewhat programmed mannerism.

Well, this is clear too is it not? Makin gAmerica great starts with its people, but the people voting for trump seem to believe to a default that he is the one they need to fix the country.

Hyperactivity centered on the group/leader agenda, which seems to supercede any personal goals or individual interests.

This is a difficult one for me to point at, but I do see this behavior at videos of his campaign rallies, but its something you see at most candidates.

A dramatic loss of spontaneity and sense of humor.

This is more about the loss of humor. Every satire or Baldwin impression of Trump is suddenly seen as offencive and not funny.

Increasing isolation from family and old friends unless they demonstrate an interest in the group/leader.

Now this one Is seen also, I have seen "friends" Of mine on facebook show less interest in me and isolating them self from people that do not agree with Trump.

Anything the group/leader does can be justified no matter how harsh or harmful.

Another Dead giveaway, the mocking of a disabled person was justified, same as "Grab them by the pussy"and his racist claims about Mexican people. All of those claims no matter how harsh they were have been justified by a lot/most of his voters.

Former followers are at best-considered negative or worse evil and under bad influences. They can not be trusted and personal contact is avoided.

Another hard one for me to say "I see this" As he has not been president long enough to see this happening yet, so keep an open eye for this one.

Now don't go thinking I am saying every American is in this Cult, as that would be a big misconception or blatant ignorant answer. As I see a lot of people going against this bigoted and sexist "man" And It was not my intention to insult anyone.

So I hope you read this for the sake of argument. For the sake of seeing my point of view.

#Trump

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