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limerental · 3 years

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My first Geraskefer Wolfbarge bingo @geraskeferbingo is my 69th fic posted on ao3 and thus harkens back to my very first fic posted on ao3 back in 2017, the fic I made my ao3 to post.... a loki omo/piss fic. Therefore, this fic contains similar.... thematic elements. There's pee.

for waters shall burst forth

pairing: Yennefer/Jaskier

rating: E

content warning for omorashi (desperation to pee and wetting) featuring the usual bodily fluids, plus a handjob and inappropriate arousal.

read below or on ao3

"Right. So," said Jaskier, wiggling more earnestly in the cramped space. "This isn't wholly my fault."

"You wandered off to relieve yourself despite strict instructions not to, activated a mechanism that opened a trapdoor, and confined you and I together in uncomfortably close quarters in a cell lined with dimeritium," said Yennefer. "By what metric is this not your fault?"

It had been Yennefer's hope that Geralt's bard would be left behind while she and the Witcher infiltrated the abandoned, wraith-infested stronghold once occupied by a powerful mage of ill repute. No such luck. The colorful irritation of a man had tagged along, griping about the stench and the dark and the mold spores he was surely inhaling all the while, and before Yennefer knew it, they were trapped together in a narrow space with nothing but blank stone wall at their backs. No doubt there was another mechanism to open the trap somewhere, and Geralt had called out that he would find it, leaving leaving alone.

"And," said Jaskier with increasing plaintiveness, "I still really have to pee."

"You're insufferable," said Yennefer.

"No, I don't feel that you understand the ah-- gravity of the situation," said Jaskier. "Or rather that gravity is acting rather urgently on my--"

"That's enough of that."

"See, welll, that's the thing. Soon er-- I'm afraid that sooner rather than later, nothing will be enough to-- um." The little bastard squirmed in exaggerated discomfort.

"Just hold it, bard. Are you an infant?"

"I'm a very well-hydrated individual! I'm trying. " Whined Jaskier. "Trust me, I would really rather literally be doing anything else in the entire universe than… well than.."

"Than wetting yourself."

"In front of Yennefer of Vengerberg of all people," he squeaked. "No offense."

"Offense taken."

"I mean you're so--" He gestured. "And I'm--" Another gesture.

"Weren't you mant to be a man of words?"

"I'm a little distracted! Oh, but it hurts."

To her horror, tears began to escape from.the corners of his eyes. He gritted his teeth as they spilled down his bright-red cheeks and wobbled at his jaw.

He was terrified, she realized. The narrow chamber they were trapped in suppressed her ability to read his mind, but the bard's frayed mental state appeared clearly on his face and the lines of his body. Terrified and deeply humiliated.

And truly about to wet himself.

In close quarters.

He squirmed, flushed pink and whimpering, and something about the sight was more pleasing than expected. Yennefer would never say anything approaching such a thing out loud but he wasn't horrible to look at as far as men went. It wasn't a hardship to watch him. And she had always taken more than the usual interest in the sight of men squirming before her, usually in more pleasant and consensual circumstances.

If she had full access to her command of Chaos, she may have considered any number of remedies to his situation. She could vanish his waters elsewhere or transfigure the bladder walls to expand more and thus alleviate the pressure. And if she was feeling particularly vindictive and cross with the bard for trapping them like this, she could not bother to relieve said pressure but command his body not to release except at her word.

Though the latter idea sent a small thrill of arousal through her, Yennefer was not so cruel, and even so, it did not matter. She was helpless to do anything but wait for Geralt to find a way to free them.

Yennefer did not prefer feeling helpless.

As a sorceress and a woman, base bodily functions did not hold much influence over her life. She had never understand the male desire to discuss bowel movements at length or engage in literal pissing contests. One did not live as long as she did and move in the circles that she did without encountering certain erotic proclivities surrounding bodily liquids, but she had never had any interest in sex involving more fluids than the usual, often of the mind that there should be less.

Jaskier whimpered, interrupting her thoughts. She had no way of knowing how much time had passed or how much more would pass before they could be freed.

Yennefer felt a pang of sympathy. This was not simple inconvenience. The man was clearly in pain.

Droplets of sweat appeared on his creased brow and the meat of his palms dug into his thighs, hands opening and closing uselessly. She knew he must be resisting the urge to grab at himself like a child in front of her. Some part of Yennefer wanted to tell him that he could, that she did not mind, but another part knew it was a matter of his pride. Another, more sordid and previously unexamined part found herself darkly fascinated. Would he truly lose control and wet himself before her? It had been a very very long time ago that the thought of needing to urinate badly had last occupied her thoughts. Normally, she handled her bodies needs with magic at the slightest urge.

Seeing him struggle in increasing distress, she found herself newly grateful for forgoing that particular aspect of humanity

And that was the crux of it.

Jaskier was human. Constrained to the limits of his own body. Bound by bodily discomforts and pain and inconveniences. Worst of all, Yennefer was ordinarily above awareness of such things and now the little idiot was forcing her to confront their reality with increasing urgency.

She startled when Jaskier whined low in his throat, an involuntary noise that he promptly went pink over. He clearly was attempting to limit the shift of his hips, rubbing his palms with firmness down the length of both thighs as though that could possibly offer any relief.

"Oh, quit being noble," said Yennefer. "Will holding yourself help?"

"Holding my-- n-no!"

"No, it won't or no you're too stupid to do it?"

"I'm not going to… debase myself in front ot--"

"Oh please," said Yennefer with a roll of her eyes and pressed her hand between his legs. Another whine escaped him, and he pressed himself flat back against the stone wall of the trap. His hips shifted miserably. His penis was soft beneath her palm and the fabric of his pants, small and vulnerable. This close she could feel his body shaking.

She could not say by his whimpering and trembling whether it helped or made things worse, so she shifted her grip to more firmly encompass him, unsure how tight was too tight. Despite her reputation, she did not often put men's genitals in a stranglehold.

"Just… just like old times," Jaskier managed to squeak, and Yennefer blinked at him. "You ah--" he gestured at her hand cupping his junk "--in Rinde."

"Oh," said Yennefer, remembering. "I don't remember."

"You know, it helps if-- Well its harder to... to piss if-- if one is--" he floundered, staring dumbly where she pressed her hand against the front of his pants. Yennefer sighed.

"If you have an erection, you mean."

"Yes."

"Are you requesting that I service you with my hands?"

"N-no, I would never ask such a--" He winced and seemed to be enduring an increase in pain, his hands tightening to fists at his sides. "Yes! Yes. That's what I'm asking you. Please, Yennefer, I know you completely loathe me, but can you--"

"What's in it for me?" Yennefer asked, eyebrow cocked.

The pink flush of his cheeks and wobble of his chin, the little pants and whines he could not hold back, the shivering tension of his lean body. Control over his body's urges, holding all of him in the palm of her hand. All of it warmed her with guilty arousal. There was plenty in it for her, though the pitiful man could not be allowed to know it.

"Um, isn't it motivation enough that I don't… you know… on your hand?"

She considered this.

"Fine."

"It might… take some effort frankly. You are very scary. Defense mechanism."

"Don't lie," says Yennefer, adjusting her hold. Already, she can feel the slight pulses of his body attempting to get hard. "That wasn't an issue in Rinde."

"You said you didn't remember."

"Mmmmhmmm."

Yennefer had not attempted something as quaint as pleasuring a man with her hands in many years. She remembered engaging in such things with Istredd. Her small glow of pride the first time he had shuddered and spent at the touch of her hand alone.

Nodding in acquiescence to the task at hand, Yennefer began to undo his laces with her free hand. To her great alarm, the idiot began to squirm more fiercely, the urge seeming to increase in a conditioned response to the imminent release signaled by the opening of his trousers.

"Oh, Yen don't-- oh. Help."

A small bloom of wetness appeared on the light blue fabric.

Yennefer quickly made work of his lacings and shoved her hand inside his brains, gripping the bare skin in a pinching hold that felt far too merciless but seemed to offer immediate relief as Jaskier groaned. The sensitive skin beneath her fingers felt velvety soft and only a little damp.

On impulse, she swiped her thumb along the flared round of the head, and Jaskier shuddered through his whole body.

It was a queer thing to feel the twitch and swell of the organ as his softness abated, the rabbiting heartbeat where her fingers held. She did not shift the pressure of her hold, but it grew tighter all the same as he hardened, until she was certain he must be in pain, the solid firmness of his growing erection flexing beneath the curl of her unyielding fingers.

"Does that hurt?" She asked, truly curious.

"No," said Jaskier. " Yes "

He seemed not to be able to help but buck into the tightness of her hand, now seeking pleasure as much as control. Experimentally, she lightened her grip and teased her fingers along the head of his cock, and he cried out and curled down, his forehead along against her shoulder. He breathed unsteadily in her ear.

"Oh quiet, you can hold it."

"I can't, Yennefer. I can't. I can't."

A warm trickle of wetness ran down the back of her hand. She looked down to see that a single dark streak had appeared on his powder blue shirt.

"Ah," said Yennefer and firmed her grip once more, moving in broad strokes. But that small leak seemed to have worsened the pain and effort considerably, Jaskier silent but for his ragged breaths as he curled against her. The occasional whimper and bodily clench was not quite enough to hold back fine droplets of escaping fluid. Not a flood, certainly, but enough for Yennefer to understand the desperation of the situation. The inevitability.

"Yennefer, I'm going to-- I have to--"

"Don't, you little idiot," she said, surprised by the breathless pant of her own voice. "I'll kill you if I do all of this and you still piddle on my shoes."

His orgasm seemed to catch him off guard, grunting as he spilled across her fist and his own shirt.

"Idiot," said Yennefer. In the immediate aftermath, he groaned aloud as his softening erection but his other need to the forefront. His hands leapt to join hers at his crotch.

"No, no, no," he whined in increasing panic, clenching his fists.

"Hands off," said Yennefer. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Yen-- since when do you-- care about--" He lost the thread of his thoughts as a longer leak of piss wet their hands. He managed to stop the flow but only just. She knew it was only a matter of moments.

"I don't," she said crossly.

"Yen--, I-- I can't--" He quivered against her with withheld tears and bodily restraint.

"That's alright," she said, one hand soothing down the plane of his back. "It's ok."

Her words seemed to be all the permission his body needed to release in earnest, the sound of rushing liquid loud in the confined space. Yennefer dropped her hand to spare herself any more indignity and politely patted the bard's shoulder as she held herself away. Yennefer's heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she could not deny the heat of arousal between her legs.

Jaskier's body trembled, and he let out shallow groans of relief against her shoulder as he continued to wet himself. It seemed to go on and on until at last petering out, leaving the two of them in an uncomfortable silence in a trap that reeked of piss.

The silence broke suddenly with a grind of gears and stone as the back wall of the trap fell away, dropping Jaskier backwards into an open chamber. Geralt looked down at him, grimacing.

"Again, Jaskier?" Geralt grunted, eyeing his wet clothes.

Jaskier groaned on the ground, making no effort to stand.

"I am a very well-hydrated man, Witcher!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's get out of here before something nasty is attracted to the stench."

Yennefer strode out of the trap with as much dignity as one could muster when she too reeked faintly of piss, endeavoring to put the whole miserable affair behind her. Unfortunately, as she watched Jaskier scramble to his feet, remembering his urgent cries beneath her hand, something told her that nothing would be that simple.

#my fic #wolfbarge bingo #anyway theres that #omorashi #yennskier

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dfroza · 3 years

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“He won’t change His mind or play tricks in the shadows.

We have a special role in His plan. He calls us to life by His message of truth so that we will show the rest of His creatures His goodness and love.

Listen, open your ears, harness your desire to speak, and don’t get worked up into a rage so easily, my brothers and sisters. Human anger is a futile exercise that will never produce God’s kind of justice in this world. So walk out on your corrupt liaison with smut and depraved living, and humbly welcome the word of truth that will blossom like the seed of salvation planted in your souls.”

we have need of courage and trust and patience while in this world. to face it with the bravery of believing in the eternal no matter what other people say or do. the bullying fear of man will be completely humbled and cleansed from this world at some point.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 1st chapter of the Letter of James:

James, a servant of God and the Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, to the twelve tribes of Israel who are spread across the earth: I send you my warmest welcome!

Don’t run from tests and hardships, brothers and sisters. As difficult as they are, you will ultimately find joy in them; if you embrace them, your faith will blossom under pressure and teach you true patience as you endure. And true patience brought on by endurance will equip you to complete the long journey and cross the finish line—mature, complete, and wanting nothing. If you don’t have all the wisdom needed for this journey, then all you have to do is ask God for it; and God will grant all that you need. He gives lavishly and never scolds you for asking.

The key is that your request be anchored by your single-minded commitment to God. Those who depend only on their own judgment are like those lost on the seas, carried away by any wave or picked up by any wind. Those adrift on their own wisdom shouldn’t assume the Lord will rescue them or bring them anything. The splinter of divided loyalty shatters your compass and leaves you dizzy and confused.

If you are a brother of humble means, celebrate the fact that God has raised you up. If you are rich and seemingly invincible, savor the humble reality that you are a mere mortal who will vanish like a flower that withers in the field. The sun rises with a blazing heat that dries the earth and causes the flower to wither and fall to the ground and its beauty to fade and die. In the same way, the rich will fall and die in the midst of their busy lives.

Happy is the person who can hold up under the trials of life. At the right time, he’ll know God’s sweet approval and will be crowned with life. As God has promised, the crown awaits all who love Him.

No one who is tempted should ever be confused and say that God is testing him. The One who created us is free from evil and can’t be tempted, so He doesn’t tempt anyone. When a person is carried away with desire, lured by lust, and when desire becomes the focus and takes control, it gives birth to sin. When sin becomes fully grown, it produces death.

My dearly loved brothers and sisters, don’t be misled. Every good gift bestowed, every perfect gift received comes to us from above, courtesy of the Father of lights. He is consistent. He won’t change His mind or play tricks in the shadows. We have a special role in His plan. He calls us to life by His message of truth so that we will show the rest of His creatures His goodness and love.

Put the word into action. If you think hearing is what matters most, you are going to find you have been deceived.

If some fail to do what God requires, it’s as if they forget the word as soon as they hear it. One minute they look in the mirror, and the next they forget who they are and what they look like. However, it is possible to open your eyes and take in the beautiful, perfect truth found in God’s law of liberty and live by it. If you pursue that path and actually do what God has commanded, then you will avoid the many distractions that lead to an amnesia of all true things and you will be blessed.

If you put yourself on a pedestal, thinking you have become a role model in all things religious, but you can’t control your mouth, then think again. Your mouth exposes your heart, and your religion is useless. Real, true religion from God the Father’s perspective is about caring for the orphans and widows who suffer needlessly and resisting the evil influence of the world.

The Letter of James, Chapter 1 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 2nd chapter of the book of Lamentations that continues the lament over God’s Judgment:

Aaghh! How could the Lord surround Zion in a cloud of His anger

as if He has cast the beauty of Israel down from heaven to earth?

Majestic Israel, God’s footstool,

is debased by God’s anger in a moment of wrath.

Buried beneath the dust,

Jacob’s houses have been swallowed.

The Lord did this without mercy,

shattering her fortresses.

God brought down to the ground daughter Judah,

and defiled her kingdom and her leaders.

Cut down by God’s anger,

the pride and strength of Israel falls;

He withdrew His right hand and stood back and allowed Israel’s enemies

to wreak havoc in the land.

God has burned and consumed Jacob

in an insatiable fire.

Deployed like an enemy, God stood poised against Judah—

bow bent, right hand clinched—crashing down

On everything that we admired

among daughter Zion’s tents.

The anger of the Lord whipped like flickering flames to reduce it to ashes.

Enemy of ours—our God—who would have thought?

Yet the Lord chewed up Israel,

Swallowed its mighty palaces;

He spit out fortresses and reduced them to dust.

God increased suffering and sorrow

to a fever pitch in daughter Judah.

Felling His own dwelling like a garden hut,

God destroyed His meeting place;

He did away with the sacred festivals and Sabbaths in Zion,

and in fierce anger

He ignored and spurned our leaders—

our king and priests alike.

God disdained the most sacred religious spots—

His altar, His sanctuary, the centerpiece of our tradition.

The Lord gave our enemy full charge of the city,

palaces and all.

And in the temple itself, the Eternal’s house,

they hoot and holler as if it’s one of our sacred festivals.

Hesitating not for one moment,

the Eternal measured across the city of daughter Zion;

Unrelenting, He was determined to destroy,

to bring the city down with rampart and wall

To its knees in rubble and grief.

Into the earth, Jerusalem’s defenses, the bars and gates, are sunk—

her leaders, both king and prince, scattered among surrounding nations,

Gone to foreign places.

Now there is no law, no wise instruction;

The prophets receive no divine visions;

who can see the Eternal’s way?

Jerusalem elders of daughter Zion are mute,

dispensing no precious wisdom.

They sit on the ground distraught, clad in sackcloth;

they hurl dust on their heads.

The young maidens of Jerusalem hang their heads

down to the ground.

Knowing the fate of Zion, my insides are in turmoil and pour out

for Jerusalem, the devastation of the daughter of my people.

I can’t see because of the tears for the children in the streets—

I can’t stop crying for infants and toddlers too weak to wail.

My people are destroyed.

Little Children: Mother, grain and wine—where is it?

Like the wounded,

collapsing in the city streets,

They pine and die

on their mother’s breast.

My dear daughter Jerusalem,

how can I tell your tragedy?

To what can I liken this disgrace?

O virgin daughter Zion, would that I could comfort you.

Who can heal your massive injury

that is as deep and wide as the sea?

Nothing but vanity from your prophets—

nothing but worthlessness from them;

They never warned and exposed you to correct your wicked ways

so that things would go well again with no captivity.

Instead, they told divine oracles of lies and deceit,

that everything was fine.

On your head, now, passersby heap scorn;

they wag their fingers, shake their heads at daughter Jerusalem.

Passersby: Is this the city everyone thought was so great—

a city of perfect beauty and

Earth’s pride and joy?

Pursuing you, your enemies cut you down.

Enemies: Ha! Would the day ever come? We’ve got her now!

Look, we’ve swallowed her whole, destroyed her.

We waited anxiously for today,

and we made it happen!

Question the Eternal One about what He has done.

He determined—punished according to the term and tenets

He laid down so long ago.

He executed fierce destruction without pity

And made your enemy glad.

He has made them prevail with might.

Raise your cry to the Lord with all your might!

Take no relief; be ceaseless in grief.

Lady Jerusalem: Oh walls, may your stones cry out,

cry out for daughter Zion;

Make rivers with tears of sorrow, rushing.

Do not cease from your weeping.

Stand up and yell in the night with all your heart;

call to God even while the city sleeps during the night watch;

Pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord!

Lift your hands and plead to Him for the lives of your children,

For the babies weak with hunger

dying on every street corner.

Take heed, Eternal One!

Look what You’ve done and to whom you have done this.

Can it be—women eat their offspring, even their tender newborns;

and in the most sacred places of the Eternal,

Priests and prophets are slaughtered?

Unable to go on, young and old fall,

lying in the dusty streets.

My strong young men and women, all unmarried,

are attacked and killed by Your sword in Your anger.

You are responsible for this mayhem and misery.

You, God, slew without pity.

Victims all, You summoned those terrors surrounding me

as if You were calling together a sacred festival.

On the day of Your divine wrath there was no escapee,

not even one survivor.

The ones whom I raised up and made numerous,

my enemy made a complete end of them.

The Book of Lamentations, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, October 6 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about waiting and carrying hope:

God gives us special graces, especially in light of the passing of days, with thwarted hope, aching bones, and inner keening for lasting deliverance from the insanity of this world. This gift of despondency helps us to awaken and to reach out to find the Real, the True, the Eternal. Learn to wait; ask God for the wisdom of patience. Between acceptance and anxiety, always choose acceptance. Find hope while waiting...

Many people want healing apart from the cure. How many settle for half-measures? While you might find respite for your suffering in temporary measures, you cannot have lasting healing apart from the divine remedy...

An old Jewish prayer, uttered somewhat wistfully, begins, "O Lord, I know that Thou wilt help us; but wilt Thou help us before Thou wilt help us?" It's not always easy to wait for God, especially when we are in pain or anxiety, but we must never, ever, give up; we must never ever, abandon our heart's longing for ultimate healing. Faith excercises hope in the Reality, Substance, and Being (ὑπόστασις) of the Invisible and is made captive to undying hope (Heb. 11:1). Therefore the Spirit cries out: "Wait for the LORD; be strong and he will strengthen your heart; and (again) wait for the LORD" (Psalm 27:14).

In this verse, the imperative verb translated "wait" is the Hebrew word kaveh (קַוֵּה), which might better be rendered as "look for with anticipation!" or "hope!" (the same root appears in the Hebrew word for hope, i.e., tikvah: תִּקְוָה). Therefore hope in the Lord and "chazak!" - be strong! (the Septuagint translates chazak as “andridzou” (ἀνδρίζου - act like a man!). Note that the verb ve’ametz is a causal active stem (i.e., Hiphal) in the “jussive mood,” which means it is imperative – “command your heart to be strengthened,” or “let your heart be made strong!” Make the decision to be strong in the LORD, and the LORD will give you strength to bear your present suffering: "Look to the LORD (קַוֵּה אֶל־יְהוָה) and find hope."

When we put our hope in the LORD, strong in our conviction, we will be given courage to bear whatever may befall us - and this is help indeed during these perilous days! So "hope to the LORD (קַוֵּה אֶל־יְהוָה); be strong and strengthen your heart; and (again) hope to the LORD." There can be no turning to God without genuine hope (תִּקְוָה). Indeed, as the Apostle Paul wrote: "We are saved by hope" (Rom. 8:24). Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]

and another about healing:

The midrash says that the Hebrew word “bereshit” (בְּרֵאשִׁית) can be arranged to spell shir te’ev (שִׁיר תְּאֵב), meaning the “song of desire.” This is the holy plea sounded by all of creation to be made whole, healed, and ultimately perfected. As it says in our Scriptures: “For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it in hope” (Rom. 8:20). Therefore when we take hold of Yeshua’s heart, vision, and mission, we partake in the repair of the world (תיקון עולם) by testifying of God’s healing love given in Messiah. We begin and end our journey to life with the “song of desire” on our lips – that is, with our heart awakened to its need for God. As it says: “The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he also hears their cry and saves them” (Psalm 145:18-19). [Hebrew for Christians]

10.5.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

October 6, 2021

Hastening His Coming

“But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.” (Acts 1:8)

These very familiar words of the Lord Jesus are commonly considered as a statement of His Great Commission, commanding us to go “into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15). Actually, however, it is not given here as a command but rather as a declarative statement— indeed, a prophecy—saying that we shall witness for Him to the very ends of the earth.

Then, His disciples were promised that “this same Jesus” would return (Acts 1:11), with the promise clearly tied to the prophecy. Just a few weeks previously they had asked, “What shall be the sign of thy coming?” (Matthew 24:3). And Jesus had answered, “This gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world for a witness unto all nations; and then shall the end come” (v. 14). Mark recorded His answer very simply: “The gospel must first be published among all nations” (Mark 13:10).

Peter says that the Lord may seem to have delayed “the promise of his coming” because He “is longsuffering...not willing that any should perish,” urging us to “account that the longsuffering of our Lord is salvation” (2 Peter 3:4, 9, 15), suggesting that we should be “looking for and hasting unto the coming of the day of God” (2 Peter 3:12).

We can hardly draw any other conclusion from such passages than that if we want the Lord to return quickly, we can hasten His coming by fulfilling His command and His prophecy, doing whatever we can to publish His gospel among all nations. His coming has always been imminent because this could well have been done—and can be done—at any time. But it evidently has not been done yet. HMM

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midnightwalkin · 7 years

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♫ + theodore/edith ? :D

Send me ♫ + a character and/or pairing

I’ve realized my only traveling companion in life has been sorrow;I’ve never been visited by pain I couldn’t endure, though;A white morning smothered in joy, a black evening lamenting in sorrowLet’s connect these days we’ve walked through to the ones that are born…A blue sky reflected in my eyes, a blue sea swallowing my tearsLet’s leave this world we’ve loved to the ones that are dear to us…

Honoo by Sound Horizon

// @deadseeing

( Okay I had to skip a couple of ost songs but this came up next and ITS SO PERFECT AND ITS SANHORA SO OF COURSE!? And for all those who have no idea what is going on, the theme in this concert was Shrödinger’s Cat so the stage hands are dressed like cats lol )

The two of then returned to their apartment in a silent procession. They went to work in the morning and by evening, they had found a missing little girl, mangled, by the side of the road. While the police dealt with contacting the girl’s parents, Edith and Theodore were relieved of the case, saying an official detective will take over from there. There was a strange softness in the way the police men spoke to Edith, how they took her arm and pulled her away after the discovery of the body. Theodore watched silently from the background, knowing they pitied her because she was a woman, and in a small way he did as well. However, back in their apartment, as she slid off her coat to reveal her small shoulders, a thought rose to the back of his mind.

“Do you want children some day, Edith?”

She paused. It was something they rarely discussed, not because it was a difficult topic, but only for the fact that they were always so busy. She looked back it him over her shoulder.

“Why?”

Edith noticed the look on his face, the way his gaze lingered before shifting towards the wall. She turned fully to him, parting her lips slightly as she watched her husband. Theodore paused before he continued.

“Well… Can you imagine raising a child like that? You have a little girl running around your feet for seven years, and then…” he shrugged lightly and tried to laugh at himself. “It must be strange for them, her parents. ”

He rubbed his eyes and Edith came towards him. He wasn’t crying, Theodore rarely cried, but that didn’t mean he was left unscathed. She lifted her hands to his cheeks and realized how tired he looked. He gave her a reassuring smile.

“It’s alright, really. I just… wasn’t ready to see her like that. Sometimes having a kid seems alright, and sometimes… well…”

Theodore leaned against her warm fingers. He had seen plenty of crime scenes. He thought it would be easier in time. And it was easy at first, for him to look on at a crumbled figure and feel relatively nothing but pity. However, the more he witnessed, the more disfigured, pained, corpses he crossed paths with, they weighed him down. He felt sick at the sight and smell of the dead. He couldn’t even handle going to funerals anymore, even if the deceased was someone he never knew.

He glanced at the kettle sitting on the stove. Theodore wondered if coffee might remove the scent and taste of her corpse off his tongue.

Edith followed his gaze and moved for him, letting her fingers slip from his skin. Unconsciously, she touched her own stomach before she ran the kettle under the tap. There were times where she caught herself looking at other women. Rosy cheeks, their round glowing skin. Edith was young, but she was weathered by life. Her vitality was in her eyes. Always sharp and strong. But she couldn’t trust the rest of her body to obey her, and who knows what damage might lay under her skin from all those back-alley brawls and years of malnutrition.

Do I dare, she thought while the stove jumped to life, Do I want to?

“Do you?” Theodore asked her, watching her movements.

“When we live like this... should we...?” She spoke out loud. With the two of them surrounded by death so often, they’d look for it in their child’s face late at night and wonder if the poor thing would wake up in the morning.

“We’d have to tell them about us.” Theodore leaned against the wall. “Or lie. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.”

“No.” She whispered. Then, suddenly, Edith turned to him eyes bright and wide. “Do we really need children?”

He looked at her, startled. Theodore glanced to the side as he thought about it. “No, I… I suppose we don’t.”

They stared at each other, husband and wife, before they started to laugh quietly to themselves. The perfect images of family life, the parents walking with their children down the road. It didn’t suit them. They two of them had their own path, one they carved out together that was far from the beaten road. The temptation was there, watching others move down a sunny, easy ground in the woods. They might stray for a moment and wander off their path, but they always somehow pulled each other back. Edith and Theodore have their own life, their own rules, they’ve always known that.

They laughed at the idea of Edith cooking with an apron at the stove. Of Theodore taking off his hat from a long day at the office. They hated the idea of waking up to a baby screaming at night, of trying to focus on work when a child was tugging at their sleeve. Maybe they were selfish and unwilling to give up their time to children. And that was fine.

Edith and Theodore know who they are. The life they have is ridden with hardship and darkness that most people are shielded from. There are plenty who might look on at the childless couple and pity them. However, they exist in a world of their own creation and within that lies freedom.

Theodore came behind her, and reaching over her shoulder, pulled down the tin of coffee from its shelf. She leaned back against him.

We'll be fine, Edith thought while watching him spoon out the coffee grounds.I know it.

#deadseeing #this turned out super long??#good lord i didnt expect to write this much #thank you for asking something of both of them ;u;#that made me really happy!!

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aurea-corde · 7 years

Text

this is me

Hello!

I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Yux. I’m 18 and was born in Singapore but moved to Australia in 2006 and have been living there ever since.

Here are some fast facts about me:

I’m an INFJ although the F/J is usually around 50/50

I’m an avid book reader/lover.

I’m Asian-Australian

I believe in soul mates, but don’t think they are restricted to the romantic kind

I am a fast paced human bean

My Chronic Disease story:

Recently I was diagnosed with non-radiographic spondylo-arthritis which is form of arthritis that mainly affects the spine and large joints like the hip. It had been a late diagnosis as I’ve been suffering with joint pain since 2015.

This diagnosis didn’t come as a shock, months ago I had given up playing sport and could no longer exercise. My sleep was interrupted every night, 4-5 times a night I would wake up because of the pain. I had to quit my part time job because I couldn’t stand for long periods of time. My attendance at school had dropped because some days the pain was so bad I couldn’t get out of bed. I stopped playing cello because my wrists were no longer strong enough, and it was only April of 2016 that I went on my second music tour to Italy to perform as principal cellist.

By late August of 2016 I was diagnosed by a rheumatologist and began treatment. I began on the slow and often ineffective Naproxen which affected my ability to concentrate and did little to help with the pain. During school exams I had to read multiple choice questions 6 times in order to get it into my head, my concentration was non-existent. Previously I had been a fast and avid reader, usually digesting a book every week or so but this stopped too. Slowly and slowly I had to give up so much of what I believed to make up who I was as a person.

In between visiting the doctor, studying for exams and giving up a lot of my interests and hobbies (physically) my boyfriend at the time told me that he couldn’t cope with “me being sick”. And so in that already difficult month I lost a relationship too. A relationship with him, with myself and with all my physical passions.

I turned 18 in September and through the whole month I felt like I was nothing, an empty pistachio husk of who I used to be. All my successes, accomplishments and the things that made me who I was no longer existed or could continue to exist in the same way. I was on new medication and now had a cane. I couldn’t walk for more than 10-15 minutes without it. I was cold all the time and had lost weight because the meds took away my appetite.

In October I met a boy. Although this is another story I thought it was important to mention him because his support will be significant later on.

Our final high school exams began during the month of November. I live in Western Australia, so these were called WACE. Exams are tough even for normal able bodied people that do not have medical conditions, mental illnesses or disabilities. This set of exams were incredibly arduous for me as the Schools Curriculum Board decided to deny my special exam conditions, only allowing for me to have non-working time even though I had specifically requested the use of a keyboard as I couldn’t write for more than 20 mins before the pain got so bad that my hands would shake and I was no longer able to hold a pen, let alone write anything legible. Even with the rest breaks I only ended up finishing 30% of each of my exams and missed my last exam. This of course left me distraught because I’d always been the type to push myself academically, and in anything that I had set out to do.

I felt incredibly disappointed in myself. Although I had never been a fan of standardised testing, I had work hard throughout the year in order to prove myself and display my capabilities. I had believed wholeheartedly that the Schools Curriculum Board set out to give every student an equal and fair opportunity to perform to the best of their abilities. I felt as if I had been discounted and completely forsaken.

I had the privilege to be educated, to go through secondary schooling only to not perform the best I could. I was letting down myself, my parents, my friends and all those kids that didn’t have the opportunities to attend school. Of course, in reality no one saw it that way. They told me that I was strong and brave for still turning up to the exams even though I knew that less than half the paper would be completed.

It wasn’t till a close friend told me that I should focus on doing the best of my abilities in the circumstances I was in. It stuck with me. So even after all the chatter after each exam I would go home, chant that mantra, watch a movie and live another day.

“A number does not define me. An exam does not define me. I am doing better than I think I am.”

When my exams finished I focused on renewing the untouchable core that I knew was within me. The fire that burned from within that could not be extinguished by comparatively small troubles. For such a long time I felt like I was less than enough, not in the eyes of others but in my own eyes. I was less of me, or rather less of what I used to be.

It wasn’t before long that I got sick of feeling sorry for myself. I decided to not settle for less. Yes, I’d gone through some shit in the last couple of months but this was not how I was going to let it end - this was a learning curve. This was the sandstorm in Murakami’s “Kafka on the Shore” and I was going to come out stronger than ever.

I had forgotten that I was a whole person; and although so much of me felt empty and like a failure I had succeeded already by being me. I found tiny victories in getting out of bed, eating a whole bowl of food, going to school even if it was for half a day.

A disease does not define me, my successes and accomplishments do not make me who I am. Under all the onion layers and walls I built up there is the untouchable core. There is the bookworm girl and nothing will ever change that.

Now:

In December I flew home to Singapore, 5kg less than my normal weight and have been here for nearly 2 months now. Although on new meds, my body is coping as well as I can hope. There was a lot of anxiety in the lead up to this trip. I found myself having an unexpected amount of existential crises, more than the norm. There is significant worry that can be expected in the coming of age of many young people in society today. I booked my plane tickets wholeheartedly believing that the distance away from home would help me find some inner peace - a kind of pilgrimage to the untouchable core. An Onsen spa for my mind.

Having arthritis and chronic pain is difficult to say the least. But it has taught me so much about who I am in times of trouble and my capability to rise from the ‘ashes’. The pain and struggle has inspired me to discover the ‘new’ me, even though it has always been the same me - I am finally able to look it in the face and say “hello”.

My Advice for people who suffer from a chronic disease:

1. Assess your support system:

My parents have been a pillar of support. Reminding me every day that I am unconditionally loved. Unconditionally loved meaning that no exam, no hardship, no number and no disease could ever change their unwavering love and support they have for me. My friends have always believed in me and continue to do so everyday. They held my hands when I could not open pasta sauce jars, the listened to me rant about how I hate being in my own body, they loved me and read my angst filled poems.

Your loved ones may not always be able to or fully understand what it is like to be in a sick person’s body but they will always support and love you. Let them in, let them love you because you deserve to be loved by them.

2. Educate yourself about your disease.

It is important to know what is making you unwell. When you are seeing the doctor or going for blood tests, picking up prescriptions; do so with an open mind and with listening ears. Learn about treatments, management plans, new diets, medication, exercises, see those specialists, spend time to learn about it.

3. Dig yourself out of the self pity.

Yes I know, it really sucks. Its hard and sometimes you want to give up but you can’t. You may not get better, be cured or go back to normal life but you can try. I don’t know you and I won’t ever understand how hard it is for you because I’m not in your body but I can tell you this: self pity is not a proven effective treatment in any disease or mental illness.

Sitting there feeling sorry for yourself every single day is not going to help you in any way. There are so many things you can do to help. Accomplish something small everyday, even if it is tying your shoelaces, having a hot shower, making a cup of tea, watching a whole movie without falling asleep. DO THINGS THAT MAKE YOU HAPPY AND MAKE YOU FEEL WHOLE.

Yes you are unwell, being sick sucks but you can do things that you still enjoy that will make you happy. A positive outlook and being resilient will make enduring all the pain and tiredness easier.

4.One word: Self-love

A poem I wrote:

“We might die from medication but we sure did kill all the pain"

I stood in the doorway for a moment

pausing to calculate

if this is so, and that was so

A whole year has past

and not long before

I stood trembling,

beneath such a fear

That it would be the end of all I knew

and so nothing I became

simply vanished into the

outline of this is so

forming the endless void

of a shadow of that was so

I crossed those plains and

mountains

across oceans, aboard planes.

Drinking wine like it was a new oxygen.

III

now I stand in the same doorway

replaying to count

this time, and that time

not wishing to mis-remember

all the things that came to be

and so this was so.

_____________________________________

Thank you for listening to my story and thank you for Mimi for creating a platform of voices. If you read all of that another big thank you.

I am here to listen to you too.

Love,

Yux (@acidist)

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