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nonsensicalobsessions · 4 years

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But You Are Mine

Prompt: Loki/OFC AU, nurse

Author’s Note: So, after an incredibly long hiatus, the Muse returned and left this story with me, so I could respond to the mystery prompt challenge as posed by Little Darlin’s AU Mystery Challenge. It was an interesting set up: I chose the pairing, and the prompt I wanted (song, dialogue prompt, or a nonverbal prompt, or AU) which would was then selected by Little Darlin. I will let you, the reader, decide how well I fulfilled the prompt I chose and drew...

Tired. So unbelievably tired, I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer, nor could I come up with a reason to do so.

The bath water was warm, and deep, my head was so heavy, and my eyes burned...what was the point? Rest, a persuasive voice whispered inside my head. Just close your eyes for awhile, what harm will it do? You are finally warm, after feeling so cold and miserable.

The humidity felt so good in my aching throat and the scent of almonds and honey soothed me further as I allowed myself to drift off.

Come now, Little One. You need to shake this lethargy off, and sit up.

I need to do no such thing. This voice was new, and unwelcome, and it could piss off.

Hearing voices in my head wasn’t nearly as upsetting as it might seem on the surface. They weren’t true auditory hallucinations...most of the time. I knew I had an active imagination. Usually it was a source of comfort for me and my solitary, sheltered existence. The more upsetting mono- or dialogues I had become disciplined enough to shut out. Therapy is a wonderful thing.

You most certainly do, or else the consequences will be most dire.

Oh? Such as?

Such as, I am the only thing keeping you from falling asleep, and as such slipping under the surface of the water and drowning.

The voice was quiet, and firm. Curiously enough, it was male. Huh. A lovely baritone, come to that. Most of my voices were either female, or asexual.

I somehow think my first inhalation of water would be sufficient to wake me up, but thank you for reinforcing your poor opinion of me, whoever you are. You may go now. Just...so tired...

You are tired because you haven’t eaten in three days, nor had anything to drink for two. And you are also tired because you are barely conscious. You are quite ill and in dire need of medical assistance. Does the thought of impending death not move you at all?

Voice, who are you and why should I even care? Voices come and voices go. None of them speak truth, they simply tell stories or say what I want to hear. Just leave me to some god damned rest for a change.

No. This god will not let you have the rest of the damned.

Oh bullshit. There are no gods. And if there are, none of them speak to me, or care enough to make their presence known. I’ve tried.

Can you not hear me answer you?

I’m dreaming. That’s all this is. And I challenge you, Nameless God—who are you, and why would you come to me now anyway? Why can’t you just let me go in peace?

Because I have been watching over you, my dear. I’ve heard you calling out to me in joy, in mischievous laughter, in rage, in despair, but most delightfully in passion...and yet, your calls have dwindled, and your supplications grown smaller, and finally silent. I came to see about you, and find you on the verge of passing beyond even my reach...why? Why have you allowed yourself to fail so grievously ill?

I repeat—who are you?

Beautiful mortal. I’m your Loki. Open your eyes.

Struggling, I managed to force my eyelids to open. It was time to force myself out of this reverie that was bound to sink my soul deeper into the mire of depression should I continue. There would be no one there, because there was never anyone there.

Crouched besides my tub, was...someone. A male figure, in armor that was casually unfastened at his throat. His index finger lightly supported my chin, as my body had in fact slipped a lot lower than I realized. Careless of modesty, I struggled to sit up, but my head felt poorly supported by my neck, and I leaned it heavily against the side of the bath. I blearily realized perhaps I was sicker than I realized, as my imagination had now exploded into full blown delusions. Auditory, visual, tactile...whee, such fun...

“You do not seem overly distressed to find me here.”

“Begging your pardon, but I fear you are not. Clearly I am spiking a temperature and am delirious. I knew I was feeling ill beforehand but had no idea...”

“Oh, you skeptical woman. You are indeed sick, in fact I am still unsure what can be done for you, but none of my favored will slip away in a bath if I can give at least some assistance to aid their passage.” And with that, I found myself being lifted, and tenderly brought to my bed, instantly dry and clad in the loveliest nightdress I’d ever seen. Certainly finer than anything I had in my possession.

“What...?”

“Darling, you deserve something beautiful. But right now, I fear your body is shutting down. You should not have neglected yourself so sorely. Why have you?”

At this point, I decided to just go with it.

“Are you then, truly...”

“Yes, I am the same Loki you’ve called out to many, many times. Your very own.”

“Why do you say it like that? ‘My very own’? Surely there can only be one of you...?”

“Little One, have you no idea how many multiverses exist? For whatever reason, I have found you, and therefore I have claimed you as mine. I do not share easily, if at all. Should another incarnation of myself suddenly appear, he would have quite a fight on his hands. You are mine. I know everything about you...how you read well past your bedtime. The many, many hundreds of thousands of words you have written, but have never shared with anyone—why? You’ve created entire universes of your own, woven wondrous tapestries filled with richness and delight, but have locked them away in secret...composed anthologies of poems...” Long fingers played with my hair as I stared into his eyes, struck dumb by his revelations as he looked pointedly at my stacks of journals that were perched on my nightstand, leaned on shelves, and even sat on the floor.

His face was a confusion for me. He wasn’t as described in the eddas, nor was he the mirror image of the MCU character.

“Of course not,” he laughed, his voice rumbling low in his chest. “I am me, and no one else. Just as you are yourself.” Drat the man, he was even reading my mind now, or at least reading my expressions...

His eyes were almost a kaleidoscope of green and blue, and his hair a rich black waterfall of wavy locks, his lips neither thin nor thick, and his teeth...I had to shake myself from getting lost in his physical magnetism.

“I don’t know what to say,” I murmured. “If you know so much, why are you asking me these questions, and why are you coming now, when everything has gotten so bad?”

“When I saw you last, things weren’t so dire, pet,” he confessed. “I wasn’t going to manifest myself unless I thought you truly needed me. You were content, I thought—you had your life with your friends, your activities...why should I upset everything? God of Chaos and Mischief I am, but I had no desire to destroy your life for no purpose. I adore mischief and pranks. I would bring pain to you.”

“Loki, everything is gone,” I whispered, trying to contain my grief. “Everything I was striving for...I’m never going to get better, you know, the physical therapists told me I’ve hit my maximum potential. The only thing I can do is have surgery, which will be expensive, painful, and risky with uncertain outcome. There will be no one to help me recuperate, to further complicate matters. My job is at risk because I can’t keep up any longer. I’ve worked so long to help everyone else, but...”

“Now you need help, and everyone has disappeared, aye,” he concluded sadly. “I am sorry. I know you have struggled with this for a long time.”

“I never felt like I wanted outlandish things. I wanted to have a family of my own. A husband who loved me, found me physically desirable...”

“You are incredibly desirable,” Loki growled fiercely. “By the Nine, I’ve watched you as you have lain in your narrow bed of nights, wondering what ails the men of this realm that you have had to take care of your needs alone. Your body in passion has inflamed me in ways I can barely tolerate without slipping through and ravishing you without so much as a by your leave...!”

“But you didn’t” I hotly interrupted. “For whatever reason, you didn’t. Whether I was too old, too disabled, too fragile, too mortal, too unattractive...you like every other male found your pleasures elsewhere, and...”

“Be very careful,” Loki hissed. “You are close to unleashing something you know nothing of...”

“Well of course I know nothing of it, I just want a family, babies, children, I just wanted to be loved, and yet you find me about to drown in my own bathtub! And come to it, why didn’t you just leave me be? At least the pain and the loneliness and the aching would be over! What is the point, or are you going to be just as distant as all the other gods in the pantheon...!”

I didn’t say anymore, because speech was no longer possible. Loki had swooped down, crushed my body to his, and was kissing me with a thoroughness I never dreamed possible.

What need for breath had I, when there were such kisses to be had? My head was spinning, my heart was pounding, and the edges of my vision were growing dark as I lost myself in him, my hands slowly then more confidently pressing him even closer to me, so I could feel his silky locks in my fingers, his chest rising and falling.

“I warned you,” he said at last, allowing me to greedily inhale at last. “You taunt me, showing me where I may have failed in the past, but I will refuse myself no longer. I thought by denying myself the pleasure of being in your company, I was doing what was best for you, but no more! You are mine, and I will be the one to give you all, whether you wish it or not. No mortal men for you, my darling. I will have Eir herself if necessary at your bedside, and what Eir cannot heal, I shall unleash my seidr upon, and what magic cannot improve, I swear I will fetch and carry and give to you whatever you need so you will be comfortable and happy. No healer will be as dedicated. No handmaiden as constant.”

I sat back. “You...really care? You care that much?”

“Sweetling? I may be your Loki...but you?”

He leaned forward and cradled my body against his, his voice husky and tantalizing, his breath barely brushing against my ear.

“...you are my Ástvinur. I cannot, will not be without you another moment. I refuse. Seeing you about to slip away...no. I have chosen you, and you are mine.”

@sourpatchkidsandacokecan @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie @winterisakiller @redfoxwritesstuff @ciaodarknessmyheart @villainousshakespeare @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @vodka-and-some-sass @theheartofpenelope @sabine-leo @wegingerangelica @the-insomniac-cat2 @alexakeyloveloki @myoxisbroken @ladyfluff @toomanystoriessolittletime

#it #ldamc #loki x ofc #loki imagine #look Christine I did a thing #Nonsensical Writes

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faean · 4 years

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Adamance of a Dragon

Collaborator: @i-am-here-with-fanfic.

Rating: T+; Language; Puns; Depictions of Violence and Blood

Word Length: 4,723 (Got Carried Away)

Chapter 8 (2/2)- Show Me Your Will; Pleased to Meet You

---

“I have not had a real fight in ages, and it appears I will have to wait some time more.”

While that upset a few villains and gave me an opening to disable them, I was beginning to tire. Eraser Head had taken down many enemies, and when I joined him, many more fell.

But we are only two people. His Quirk usage had fallen drastically, and I had to counter it by increasing my own. I was skilled in hand-to-hand combat, thanks to Aria’s training, but my strength lied in ranged attacks with my magic and right now, I was running low. My plummeting into the fountain did not do me any favors, either.

I could not reach any of the sources of water nearby to replenish my strength, unfortunately, due to the enormous, beak-faced, exposed brain villain that was plaguing my every move. He was much too strong for me to face without considerable magic, but he also did not seem very keen on taking me out. He only kept me separated from Eraser Head, which was fine by me, especially once my little clover, Tsuyu, and Mineta popped their heads above the shoreline and observed the ongoing battle.

Foolish, really.

Their mere presence could shift the entire battle and, while Tsuyu is certainly capable of handling herself, Midoriya’s double-sided Quirk and Mineta in general would only make things that much more difficult for Eraser Head and myself. We can barely keep up our efforts, and there are still a few genuinely dangerous villains on the playing field.

“Final boss.” I heard Eraser Head say as the villain covered in hands rushed him. I had thought he would be able to HAND-le him (probably should not be making puns in the middle of a fight), but the brain villain turned his attention to them.

It was not until now that I began to feel…

Anxious.

Eraser Head’s elbow was destroyed, the hand covered villain toying with him as the brain villain made his way towards them.

“Oh, by the way, hero. I am not the final boss.”

“Umbra!” I shouted without hesitation, triggering the creation of an intricate magic circle of shimmering silvery black light in front of my open palm, roughly two feet in diameter. Several tendrils of inky shadows shot forth to intercept the falling hand of the brain villain.

And it was just in the nick of time. I had barely managed to stop the villain from slamming Eraser Head into the ground, and a few more tendrils snaked through the air to enwrap more of the villain. He fought against it, forcing me to pour more energy into the spell to prevent the tethers from snapping. His strength is simply absurd, and it appears natural, considering his Quirk is currently erased.

I struggled to keep the villain immobilized, digging in my heels and flapping my wings to try and give myself some leverage; however, the few remaining low-level villains rushed me. Reflexively, I took a deep breath before exhaling a scorching blast of fire around me, careful not to damage my tethers. A broken circle of molten earth surrounded me, the villains unconscious (and covered in burns of various degrees).

Turning my attention back to the-

“Mierda!” I yelped, unintentionally slipping into Spanish as the hand villain began to disintegrate…

Decay…

My tethers were crumbling to ash and pain shot through my right arm as the spell was broken. The magic circle shattered; the shadowy tendrils that were left faded into an inky mist.

And my vision turned the same shade of black.

---

Re…ow…y…tle...ragon…

‘What… happened?’ I thought, my head fuzzy and body still numb.

Rest now, my little dragonling…

‘Rest… That sounds…’

My eyes snapped open as my breath hitched, the reality of my situation settling in. I was trapped under dozens of tons of rubble. Ironically, the only thing keeping me from being crushed were the several pieces of rebar that jutted from my body and were embedded into a large slab of concrete that loomed over my exhausted form.

Right leg, left arm, my abdomen, and several throughout my wings. Fortunately, there was not a lot of blood loss, which also meant that I must not have been out for long.

Only for a few. Rest. They do not need you…

Rolling my eyes, I just mumbled a string of swears directed at her, most of which were in Spanish (‘much more creative’, mis abuelos would say). My little spiel ended with ‘Qué te den’ before I heard an airy chuckle that faded away.

Sighing, I stared into the darkness, well, dimness. While it was pitch black underneath all this rubble, I did have some form of night vision; not strong enough to see clearly, but it sufficed. Either way, it did not quell my rising anxieties. I have no idea where I am, and once my adrenaline wears off, I would surely go into shock and perish before I could get any help.

And that is assuming any one can find me, or if any one survived. With just a single punch, that brain villain sent me soaring. The sheer force of my impact was enough to bring down the building that I was now trapped in. To top it all off, I was magically exhausted, using up the last of my energy to prevent my bones from being pulverized. Even if I got out of here, I could not heal myself, and I would not last long enough to get to Recovery Girl.

Which would be pointless, anyway, since her healing uses a person’s energy to do so and I have next to none.

I was fighting to stay conscious at this point, the constant dripping noise of the rain lulling-

‘Wait… Rain! Of course, I was being too daft to notice!’

The USJ has a ‘Squall’ zone that is designed to emulate a rainstorm. I only need to get a steady stream to me, and then I could replenish some of my strength. Without a moment to lose, I gathered every ounce (or should I say gram?) of strength left in my body and propped my free leg against the slab of concrete above me.

I pushed with all I had left, letting out a guttural shout as I fought for my life, but it did not budge. Panting heavily, my leg went limp.

That was my only shot.

It was not enough.

My brain began to cloud.

Pain began to set it.

My breathing became uneven.

‘Think. Come on, Faian. You have spent years training your body and Quirk, but that means nothing if you do not calm yourself and do what you do best.’ I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing.

My Quirk, my magic, my person, was dwarfed by the others at the college. I lacked the same experience and skill they had. I had to work infinitely harder to contend, and I only made it so far by honing the one thing that triumphed over raw power every. Single. Time.

The mind… as cliché as that sounds.

I became unchallenged in analyzing, predicting, strategizing and, most importantly, adapting. I got my provisional license just months before my twelfth birthday; felled villains wanted by the State of California and beyond; overcame my own depression and grief; and…

I have a promise to keep.

I will not be bested by some fucking rocks and a villain with a god damn hand fetish!

Summoning strength straight from the very depths of my being, I drew the last breath I would draw underneath this rubble.

---

“I am the great grandson of Quetzalcoatl, and you villains made the fatal mistake of tampering with a dragon’s hoard!!!” I roared with renewed vigor, the downpour coalescing around my battered form.

I flew towards the villains before me, easily sweeping many of them away with a torrent of water, freezing it as it crashed into a towering building, nearly toppling it. If any attempted escape from within the ice, not only would they end up in a comparable situation I just escaped from, but they would have to deal with the tons of jagged ice, too.

Ducking beneath a futile attack, I turned and slammed a villain into the ground with my tail before raising my hand towards the sky.

A magic circle of swirling water appeared above me, and the rain slowed to a stop. Snapping the fingers of my raised hand, the circle pulsed as the rain collected into a massive bubble that spanned over a block and swallowed the tops of many buildings.

With a wide, and possibly unnerving, grin, I thought ‘Aquae’.

The magic circle pulsed once more before evaporating and the sphere of thousands of gallons of water descended with enough speed to break the sound barrier.

Entire buildings were reduced to nothing as I leveled the area. Admittedly, I may have gone overboard (that is like the third intentional pun I have made in a life or death situation, today!), but it felt oh so good to fight in my element (fourth).

Literally.

I am a water dragon, first and foremost. While I may add the moniker ‘fire’ before it on occasion, it is only to reference my skill in fire magic (technically, I cannot naturally breathe fire I do with water, but my prowess with the element allows me to do so, requiring about as much magical energy as creating a candle flame). Of course, I would be even more of a force if I could draw strength directly from the sea, but give me a lake or a rainstorm?

Well, I think it obvious what I can do.

Although, none of that would matter if I was still stuck in the collapsed building. Drawing from the depths of my being, I was able to summon enough strength to let loose a mighty, spiralized water breath attack that essentially liquified everything in its path. With the rain falling directly on me, I was able to pull myself off the rebar, seal my wounds with ice, and recover my strength.

Without any more villains in the surrounding area, I began my trek back to the center of the USJ. Being reinvigorated, my senses began returning to normal, although it would still take some time. “Coincidentally”, my hearing and sense of smell were beyond average, and I could rely on those quite easily. Even with all the rain and wind.

Fortunately, that was all I needed to discover that Kouda and Tokoyami were nearby. Although, I did briefly think about how I should have been more careful before attacking.

My worries were dashed when Tokoyami told me that they had heard the building collapse and that most of the villains had rushed to it. They were trailing behind and picking off any stragglers, not getting too close since they did not know what had happened. Thankfully so, too, since they were behind a building not even a block from the edge of my attack.

“I see. The situation has only become more depressing.” Tokoyami stated after I recounted what had happened.

“Indeed. And I would like to apologize for, well, that.” I gestured to the massive hole behind me. “Either way, it is reassuring that you two are safe. Perhaps our other classmates are as well.”

The two nodded, but before another word could be said, several more low-level villains appeared, shouting for more to converge. I took a step forward, spreading my wings to guard my companions before letting loose another spiralized water breath attack; however, I was quickly brought to my knees.

Kouda was soon kneeling beside me, steadying me as I violently coughed, blood splattering the floor and staining my lips. Tokoyami and Dark Shadow took to defending us while I recovered.

---

“Forgive me…” I rasped to no one, limping my way across the USJ.

I had left Tokoyami and Kouda behind in the Squall Zone, trying to return to Eraser Head and the others. Naturally, the moment I left the downpour, my strength began to fade again (can you hear my eyes roll?). I could not bring myself to fly, and my senses were beginning to dull once more, making me more susceptible to surprise attacks.

To make matters worse, the ice on my abdomen melted and my wound began steadily trickling blood. I was only able to fully heal the holes in my wings before I left the storm, barely managing to at least properly seal the hole in my arm and leg, and the entry point in my lower back, but the exit on my front was still open. With no other choice, I kept my tail tightly wrapped around myself, nearly halting the bleeding.

And if that was not enough, I could barely even speak! I hurt my throat and taxed my lungs when I used my water breath to escape from the building, but using it again shredded my windpipe. While that is a small price to pay for going well beyond my limit, attempting any major magic now would likely result in my death.

Well, it would be more akin to every atom in my body dissolving and being reduced into a puddle.

Fun, no?

*BOOM*

There was a massive, well, I do not know. Obviously, it came from where I was initially sent soaring, but there was no one there who could possibly create such a ruckus singlehandedly, not even the brain villain. Bakugou, maybe, but it did not sound like an explosion.

Unless, of course, there were two of those brain villains, or someone of the same caliber. Which must mean that All Might final-

“Why the hell do you look like shit, cat eyes?” A certain blond’s voice came from behind.

Which was hastily followed by the ‘manly’ voice of Kirishima. “You can’t just say that, Bakugou! It’s not manly criticizing someone’s appearance! But, why do you look so beat up?”

Ignoring Bakugou’s discontented huff, I answered, my hand on my throat as I croaked out “Technically, he had asked that, and technically, my eyes are reptilian.” Bakugou attempted a “menacing” step forward but Kirishima blocked him as I continued. “I took a heavy hit protecting Eraser Head and ended up in the Squall Zone. Needless to say, it took a toll on me.”

“Woah… A villain did that to you? But you’re so manly! I mean, Mister Aizawa even-”

“Shut the hell up, shitty hair.” Bakugou interrupted (naturally). “If you fought alongside Aizawa, then you must damn well know just what those pathetic villains’ weaknesses are. Tell me so I can kick their ass, unlike you, cat eyes.”

I looked into Kirishima’ eyes. They were filled with genuine worry, but there was a spark of determination. Bakugou’s had an ominous glint in them, desperate for a fight. I thought carefully of my answer, knowing that if they faced the same power I had, they would face Death.

“Knowledge is not something I enjoy sharing for free… but be warned. If you falter in your endeavors, no amount of skill nor talent of your own will save you. Be wary… and accept that on the battlefield, there is no such thing as fair. Your only solace is that villains fight not because they have something to gain, but because they cannot risk losing everything.”

I nearly toppled over with another coughing fit, blood caking the hand that covered my mouth. Kirishima practically lunged at me to help, but Bakugou just said ‘some help your scaly ass was’ before rushing towards the battle. I gave Kirishima a look and he paused for only a moment before following after him.

‘They will need help…’ I thought as I struggled to straighten myself.

---

After a short detour to the lake, I recovered enough strength to fly again, cautious not to use any magic to worsen my condition. I now stood on the outskirts of the main battle, staying near the shore; however, I had a choice to make as Nomu turned towards Bakugou as he was restraining Kurogiri.

Within an instant, Bakugou sat next to the trio of Todoroki, Kirishima, and Midoriya; All Might was in a defensive stance as he stood halfway between the villain’s extended fist and a wall with his arm bruised and shirt torn; and I stood with my claws deeply embedded in the forearm and elbow of the creature, using my limited strength to hinder its fearsome blow.

Slicing through flesh and bone, I destroyed Nomu’s arm before leaping back towards my classmates, my strength spent as I fell at their feet. It did not do much, as the beast regenerated the damage I caused almost instantaneously.

“These are kids, and you didn’t hold back?” All Might questioned as he panted.

Shigaraki did not hesitate to respond. “I didn’t have much choice. He was threatening my companion. Besides, these kids are no angels. The plain-looking one? He tried to kill me with a maxed-out punch. And the one with wings? He nearly incinerated some of my men and just viciously shredded Nomu’s arm.”

Reflexively, I shouted “In America, we call that a Sunday barbecue!” before clutching my throat and hacking up blood for the nth time. It did earn me a mortified look from my little clover and Kirishima. Bakugou smirked and Todoroki very nearly smiled, though.

“Hm… What kind of “heroes” do something like that? You think you can get away with being as violent as you want if you say it’s for the sake of others. Well, you know what, All Might? That pisses me off. Why do people get to decide that some violent acts are heroic, and others are villainous? Casting judgment as to what’s “good” and what’s “evil.” You think you’re the Symbol of Peace?”

I very nearly interjected again with ‘No, he is so very obviously the Emblem of Order,’ but the pain in my throat (and possibly Kirishima’s hand on my mouth) prevented me from doing so.

“Ha. You’re just another government-sponsored instrument of violence. And violence always breeds more violence. I’ll make sure the world understands that once you’re dead.” Shigaraki finally finished, and All Might said what we were all thinking (probably, I was thinking of what pun to make once Kirishima removed his hand… I think the blood loss is getting to me).

“You’re nothing but a lunatic. Criminals like you; you always try and make your actions sound noble. But admit it; you’re only doing this because you like it. Isn’t that right?”

“I thought that was a left hand on his face…” I muttered as I rose to my knees, but not quietly enough considering Todoroki coolly (not counting that one, too easy) told me to ‘Please stop…’ before raising his voice to speak to everyone else.

“We’ve got them outnumbered.”

My little clover replied. “And Kacchan found the mist guy’s weakness.”

Kirishima quickly followed up with “These dudes may act really tough, but we can take ‘em down now with All Might’s help. Heh. Let’s do this.”

“Don’t attack.” All Might ordered. “Get out of here.”

Of course, his demand was met with some resistance from Todoroki, but he was adamant about it.

“I thank you for your assistance, but this is different. It’s gonna be all right. Just sit back and watch a pro at work.”

“But you’re too hurt. You’re bleeding. And you’re almost out of ti—” Midoriya quickly stopped as All Might gave a thumb’s up and I rolled my eyes.

I mean, really? Can no one piece it all (might) together from his flubs?

Either way, that is not important now.

“Nomu. Kurogiri. Kill him. I’ll deal with the children… Let’s clear this level and go home.”

---

“Now for a lesson. You may have heard these words before, but I’ll teach you what they really mean. Go beyond! Plus Ultra!” All Might bellowed as he sent Nomu hurtling out of the USJ, breaking right through the domed ceiling.

In the ridiculous timespan of under a minute, All Might defeated the greatest foe on this field. There were exclamations from us about All Might’s terrifying tenacity and sheer strength, but as the dust began to settle about him, almost unnaturally converging on his towering form, he continued.

“I really have gotten weaker. Back in my heyday, five hits woulda been enough to knock that guy out. But today, it took more than 300 mighty blows.” He turned his attention from us to the remaining two villains. “You’ve been bested, villains. Surrender. We all want to get this over with quickly.”

Shigaraki began to unravel, his neck looking like what my throat feels like, and All Might’s taunting only pushed him further into despair. I folded my outstretched wings behind me, having used them to keep the five of us from being blown away.

My classmates deemed the battle won, but the look on my little clover’s face gave a vastly different thought. Sighing, I thought ‘Plus Ultra, I suppose…’ before forcing myself to my feet.

Fighting everything in my body telling me to collapse and drift away, I trudged over to All Might, drawing to my full height and extending a wing in front of him despite how my muscles ached and my soul screamed.

“I suggest you heed his words,” I rasped out, my voice sounding almost reptilian, “lest you incur a wrath not of this world.”

I fought back a shuddering cough, my tail tightening around me as I struggled to stay standing. That is when All Might, Aaron’s father, placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. He seemed to stand taller, and there was a fire in eyes, but behind that fire, I could see his doubts.

There was no fathomable instance in which we will survive if they attack now, but we had to convince them otherwise.

We just had to stall a little longer.

“What? Are you scared?”

I followed it with “Do you truly believe you can face us?”

Shigaraki continued to panic, and it seemed we just might pull this off…

“Shigaraki Tomura! Please, do not fret. Look at them. All Might has definitely weakened. Nomu’s attacks were successful. And the boy can barely stand. They’re on their own. The children appear to be frozen in fear. And, look, our underlings are recovering. We likely still have a few minutes before their reinforcements arrive. If you and I work together, we can do this. We haven’t missed our chance to kill All Might.”

Kurogiri was not wrong, and Shigaraki began to compose himself.

I slightly turned my head towards All Might, my shoulders falling. Not meeting his eyes, Aaron’s eyes, I whispered “You are more than just a symbol. Do not act when they rush us, just… Give them my regards. Aria. Aaron.”

I focused back on the two villains before us. “My heart beats not for me…”

---

“Don’t you ever do something so reckless, again, Faian!” Aria exclaimed in English as she helped me sit up, handing me a canister of saltwater. “Aaron’s message was already concerning enough, then I get here and have to fight my way through a bunch of thugs to get to my son! Who happens to be bleeding from his stomach and sounds like he smokes fifty packs a day!”

Before I could respond, she turned to All Might, who was somewhere in between his muscular form and a skeletal one (no surprise there), she continued in English. “As for you, I swear. You haven’t changed in all these years! You’re almost as bad as my kids…”

Finally, she turned to Midoriya, switching to Japanese and saying “I take it back. You’re as bad as them.”

Finished with reprimanding us for our actions, she let out a tired sigh. “I’m just glad you’re all safe, now.” She wore a weary smile, and her glistening eyes brimming with tears held such warmth and love.

“Mom… Thank you.”

“Midoriya, Nadal, hey!” We heard Kirishima shout as he ran towards us.

His concern was warranted, but there was a tension in the air when Aria’s eyes went wide as he got closer, and All Might fully transformed into his skeletal frame. Fortunately, a wall of dyed cement rose up, blocking him off as Cementoss reassured him that the pros can handle this.

Honestly, the rest of the day was a blur. Midoriya and All Might were snuck out to get the medical attention they need, and Aria helped me into the school bus after I had answered a few questions for the police. I returned to the campus, changed into my casual clothes with her help, grabbed my bag, and she drove me home. She practically carried me in, complaining about how she was getting old (to be fair, I weighed well over 200 lbs. because of my mutations).

Before she kissed my cheek goodbye, she ran the bath and dumped a container of sea salt in it for me. I heard the front door close as I eased (more like flopped) into the steaming water. A contented sigh escaped my lips as I sank beneath the water’s surface.

After what might have been a few hours, considering how I fell asleep under the water, I got out and dried off. Changing into my pajamas and not bothering to dry my hair, I lazily strolled to my plush bed and buried myself beneath the mountain of blankets and pillows, curling about a few. I let the exhaustion in my bones lull me to—

“Pleased to meet you, my little dragonling.”

“¡MALDITO CARAJO!”

-----

Had a lot of fun with this chapter and got a little carried away, admittedly. Hope you heathens enjoy. Be on the look out for tomorrow’s Holiday request!

Beta Reader, Collaborator, Co-Writer, Grinch: @i-am-here-with-fanfic

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opinionatedspectator-blog · 5 years

Text

Art, Feminism, & The Distribution of The Sensible

It has taken me quite a while to actually write anything on this blog, not really due to a lack of ideas or a lack of inspiring and transpiring events, but I guess mostly I wanted to take the time and be able to define the dimensions of what I aim for this blog to be. Define its boundaries and scope of focus. Perhaps its also because I did not want anything I post here to be of an academic nature, but where I can successfully export my perspectives without really sounding like I’m submitting a paper to a professor. However, in terms of defining the focus of this blog, which might simply be transmitting my perspective to you, the reader, this blog cannot be but an extension of myself. So here, I’m going to write from the first person perspective. I hope that to you this seems valid enough as reliable information, but the self as a vehicle of experience, for me at least, is anything but negligible.

Also, shoutout to Naeem Inayatullah of Ithica University for importing the narrative approach to political science.

As a precursor however, I would like you to take the time and look at a paper entitled “Neoliberalism As Creative Destruction” by David Harvey. This should really help you understand where I am coming from as an individual. But do keep in mind that despite me in the future or the past sounding like a left-wing marxist geographer, I am not. I am in fact neither a supporter of the capitalist way of life, nor the socio-economic, post-capitalistic arrangement that Marx has presented in his Manifesto. I am simply myself, perhaps in terms of background a Humanist... but aren’t we all?

A point to stress here is the current cultural phenomena of extremes. For some reason, the polarization of thought and ideology seems to be the status-quo of our times and generation. I am someone who would like to belong to the middle path.

Now to get to the point behind this post and why I have asked you to read Harvey’s paper. Neoliberal capitalism is best described as the shift from an industrial based economy, to one that is mostly characterized by the service sector industries. Therefor this calls for a shift in the nature and qualifications of the workforces required to run such economies, and ultimately to populate their cities. To make a long story short, major cities across the globe compete amongst each other to attract as many members of the “creative class” as possible to empower their industries. The creative class is the term used to describe the modern service sector workforce, mainly graphic designer, app developers, architects, writers, photographers, lawyers, gig industry execs, and overall modern service providers. This activity automatically changes the layout of a city. Gentrified neighborhoods, galleries, art spaces, installations, film exhibitions, speciality coffee shops, and artsy food concepts come in to fill the urban geography. This has previously been described by Sharon Zukin as “pacification by cappuccino”.

The point I try to make here however is not to describe this shift, nor the socio-economic gaps that are produced through the need of low-wage service sector cohorts and middle to upper class entrepreneurs. Basically baristas and CEO’s. I’m writing this to describe a slight crisis that arises with art and culture being owned or introduced into the realm of state-led enterprises. Some have described this to be the death of art with regards to the traditional function and definition of the role art has played in the social and cultural sphere.

Art, whether visual or theoretical, be it a book, a sculpture, a painting, a photograph, or a film, has always participated in shaping what is described generally as “The Distribution of The Sensible”. Lets just call it the realm of the ‘taken for granted’, or socially and culturally accepted notions and activities as, well as modes of thought of a certain society. Art has always navigated on the boundaries of this realm, challenging its norms and its taboos, presenting the internal unheard struggles of the unheard, and representing an outlet for the expression of their experiences. This was not simply limited to the excluded or the impoverished, but the right of each and every single individual. Art was a valid way to say what could not be said, to contest and to reconsider, to hold up a mirror and allow everyone to take a closer look at their blemishes and open pores. Yet with a state owning art, validating it, empowering, and ultimately, utilizing it as a capitalization opportunity, art is automatically stripped of all of its characteristics as well as its power. Art looses its voice and influence by simply gaining the recognition and normality from that which considered it novelty and abnormal.

Today we have art biennials curated by cities through their local authorities. They specify spaces for galleries, times and dates for events, as well as showcase certain artists to be celebrated and presented as the trend setters and pioneers. This applicable to all fields of artistic format; fashion, film, tangible and intangible. The problematic that arises from this dialectic is the control of the expression of art itself, and what is brought to light and left in the shadows is then decided by the hegemony. This could very easily be influenced by agendas, approval and disapproval bestowed by unknown committees. Yet art is not allowed to speak out upon it, resistance becomes illegitimate because art is recognized and now operates within the distribution of the sensible as to previously operating outside of it. You have been recognized, therefore you are not allowed to complain. We have heard your voice and provided you a platform. Thats basically what this procurement entails.

Another issue that comes to hand under this light is the over saturation of artistic expression on display everywhere, in every nook and cranny, in every alley and street.. all commissioned.. all artificial.. that really neutralizes the viewer to the impact and meaning of art. I find myself being less interested and less amazed... let alone less curious when I look at art these days. Have I always been this way? no.. not really.. I have noticed myself change however..it was exciting in 2011 up to 2014 when things were really gearing up towards the cultural turn.. but its 2019 now and not much has changed... and in 2019 I find myself incapable and indifferent.

If you wish to understand this better, the work of professor Jenny Edkins on protests and governmental expansion could be of aid. I have personally had the pleasure and honor to be taught by her under a few modules. What Edkins basically states is the following; if a certain faction of the population who feels oppressed or excluded decided to demonstrate or protest their struggles to the state, the state itself, by recognizing their protests and answering their requests automatically expands its control over the different cohorts of a said population. This faction now can no longer use its voice to demand a certain right, but another representative may do so, yet only once. I have theorized something close to this which I call The Morbid Loop of Misconduct that I might discuss in the following posts.

This ownership and capitalization of such fields to be utilized as bait for branding cities and determining their respective levels of ‘coolness’ has reached its limits with testing my tolerance when feminist initiatives got introduced into the mix. We have recently celebrated the International Women’s Day... congratulations by the way... yet many businesses have gone to utilize this day as an opportunity to brand themselves as understanding and co-operative, as good listeners.. as celebrators of feminism.. in order to increase sales and foster public attention. I can pull out so many examples from my instagram feed but there is one photo that I deem appropriate in explaining what I try to describe, a post entitled: Man Visibly Upset After International Women’s Day Post Doesn’t Get The Likes He Banked On. (https://www.instagram.com/p/BuwFxPEFmBQ/) It was intended for a meme.. yet to me it described anything but a laughing matter.... perhaps memes might be art’s last frontier.. who knows.. we’ll let neoliberalism decide. The ownership of feminism by the socio-economic hegemony, and currently in the pipeline LGBT discourse, is going to bring about a new frontier of markets. The market of civil right attraction.

On a second thought though, this is nothing new. The ownership of the state of feminist discourse has been used throughout history for not so human-centered nor humane reasons. If for instance we take Marx’s following statement, “the executive of the modern state is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the bourgeoisie” .. the truth of which I will deal with in a later post, we come to understand that feminism has been used to further service the machine of capitalism and lubricate its gears and cogs for more efficient outcomes since its ownership by state policy. Take for instance the insane push for women in the workforce. Now I am in no way against women having jobs or earning their own living, running businesses, or running countries even, however what we need to address is the socio-economic frameworks within which these ideas were introduced and the outcome that results from this push. The popularization of careerist orientations has many negative impacts on the social fabric itself. This is not simply in the sense of conservatism and maintaining tradition, but disabling cultures when resisting epistemological occupation. Sadly, women have been utilized by this new mode of radical feminism and made to think that they are the patrons of such movements when they are indeed the victims.

Another example is Edward Bernays’ 1929 “Torches of Freedom” movement. The man was a PR freak and put the natural instinct of social impact and cultural roles that all humans have to service a monstrosity of an industry. You know the story, it was culturally frowned upon, and considered a taboo, for women to smoke in public spaces. It was this whole discourse on a cigarette being another phallic symbol and a symbol of men’s power... but basically as far as tobacco companies were concerned, half of the population were a potential market they weren’t tapping into. Along comes Freud’s grandson, and rebrands cigarettes as the torches of freedom, asking women who were posing as suffragettes to march in a protest with lit cigarettes as a move to display the power of the feminine.

Everything that the state has done after obtaining ownership of feminism towards this “cause” has been of the same nature. But what needs to be kept in mind here is that the state in this sense is the collective of corporate. After all what is the purpose of a city? What is the current modern purpose of having an economy? It is to circulate capital through it as efficiently as possible with the largest market share that a state can muster. Read Saskia Sassen’s The Global City for a better perspective.

Anyways... im tired of writing this.. I hope you get the point.

Neoliberal capitalism never fails to surprise me with its creative capacity for destruction.

This post might seem to be of no use.. but it was just me letting off some steam. This is what this is all about... letting off some steam.

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inkedwaterlilies · 3 years

Text

My Muted World

By Jordan Frederick

****

I live in a muted world.

I mean that literally.

One of the questions people ask when I tell them of my partial deafness is: “Were you born with it?”

The answer: yes and no.

I was not born with something in my genetic makeup that made me half deaf. Rather, my birth was a complicated one. Think of it this way: anything that could go wrong, did go wrong. When I was born, I wasn’t breathing. I was rushed from one hospital to another in a STARS helicopter; once I arrived, I was hooked up to various machines––the only things keeping me alive.

My death was a very real possibility. There are no happy pictures following the first month of my birth. Not even when Santa Clause visited me in the hospital.

As a result of all these complications, I am now half deaf and will be for the rest of my life.

The interesting thing is, for the first eighteen to nineteen years of my life, I never really thought of my hearing loss as a disability. Of course, I was well aware that the vast majority of my fellow students didn’t need small devices to help them hear on a more normal level. How could I not, when young children asked what those things in my ears were?

Even still, it was not until recently that I’ve started to say that something might be difficult for me because I have a hearing disability. My hearing loss is something I’ve always lived with. Yes, it is frustrating, having to ask someone to repeat themselves five times. It is annoying when I go to the movie theater and, without the help of closed captioning, I only have a general idea of what the plot of the movie is. Thankfully, we live in a time that is more accessible for people––even in the movie theater. As a result, that particular problem has lessened.

I will admit that my loss of hearing causes frustration in my life. But it took me some time before I began to casually throw the word “disability” around. For me, it is a simple fact of life. The sky is blue, water is wet, I am half deaf. I have never truly viewed it as something that makes me less of a person or something that makes me extraordinary. But some people seem to disagree.

There have been some instances in my life that stand out––ones that told me that not everyone views me as “normal.” My memory is vague, but I do remember encountering a few girls in the girls’ washroom, sometime between grade two and grade five. I think one of them asked me a question, and when I answered, they looked at each other as if it was some amazing feat that I was able to understand enough to answer them at all.

And then there was the incident in high school, wherein a girl in my grade struck up a conversation with me in the hallway. She told me she was going to graduate early; I can remember being bewildered by that, and a bit jealous. The girl asked me something then––I can’t remember what––but I do remember her reaction. She said, “Yeah?” in a high-pitched voice that reminded me of the way people talk to babies. Or dogs. Suffice to say, I didn’t appreciate it then; I appreciate it even less now.

It’s moments like these that influenced my severe lack of self-esteem.

I understand why some people treated me that way. My hearing loss has certainly made a number of things difficult for me. There were times during my schooling when someone would talk to me, or tell me to do something. Confused and unable to understand, I would give them a wide, doe-eyed look. It must have been frustrating for them. Still, I didn’t appreciate it when people would physically move me to wherever I was supposed to be standing during drama class, or would feel the constant need to instruct me and tell me what to do. I am not stupid now and I was not stupid then. Some things are simply more difficult for me.

Make no mistake: I am not saying that I have a horrible life. Nor am I saying I have a harder life than others. As the saying goes, I am telling it like it is.

Despite these occurrences in my earlier life, not everyone is unkind about my hearing loss. I remember being surprised during my first year of college, when, no matter how many times I had to ask my roommates to repeat something, they never showed any outward frustration. I appreciated this; most people tend to lose patience after being asked to repeat something several times. They never did.

It is true that I have hearing aids. Even still, there are times when I still have difficulty. It can be hard enough in a calm room. A loud room, such as a party, is nearly impossible for me. This is why I learned the “nod and smile” technique. If I pretend I know what someone is saying, then they won’t have to repeat themselves, resulting in less frustration for both of us.

This doesn’t work all the time, of course––especially when the speaker is expecting a response to a question they asked. But it is a tactic I’ve used for some time and likely will continue to use.

There was yet another time during my first year of college wherein someone was kind about my disability. Our professor asked my class to arrange ourselves into pairs or groups so that we could discuss the topic on hand. The man next to me became my partner for this discussion. He started to say something about the topic and then cut himself off and asked, “Can you hear me?” It’s the way he said it that stuck with me. Not with any hint of annoyance or derision; not over the top. He asked in a simple, matter-of-fact voice. He was not trying to make me feel bad; he was making sure I could hear so that we could have our discussion. I have little doubt that if I’d answered “no,” he would have spoken louder, or done something else to make sure I could hear him properly.

It’s the little things like that that I’ve come to appreciate.

In truth, I have many things to be thankful for. I live in a time that is much more accessible for people like me. Twenty or thirty years ago, I would not have the accommodations I do now. In fact, thirty years ago I might have been rejected by institutions, simply for having a disability.

I have met plenty of kind people as a result of my partial deafness. I even formed friendships that, while temporary, were meaningful to me. Like my childhood friend who also had hearing loss. After meeting him in elementary school, suddenly I wasn’t the only kid who wore hearing aids. For once in my life, I didn’t feel like the odd one out. I had an ally. Someone who was like me.

Of course, I know I am not the only one who’s experienced hearing loss. I’m far from the only person my age group who uses hearing aids. But when I was a young kid in elementary school receiving different treatment than the other kids, it could feel like I was the only one in the world who was like me. And though that friendship didn’t last, that does not diminish that, for my time in elementary and some in middle school, I was not alone.

Being fifty percent deaf may not be many people’s ideal of living their life, but in truth, it is far from the worst thing that could have happened to me.

So, if I could change that, would I? If one day there was a magical, relatively inexpensive cure that could give me perfect hearing, or I was granted a chance to wish it for myself, would I wish myself more “normal”? Would I go through with it?

To be honest, if I were given such an opportunity, wishing away my deafness is unlikely to be the first thing that crosses my mind. It is a part of my overall identity and it is something I am used to. I have accepted the fact that I will always be part deaf. It is not a fact that devastates me.

Except in moments of frustration, I have given little serious thought to how my life would be if I had more normal hearing. I cannot pin down an exact moment wherein I wished my life, in this respect, was different.

True, my life is made more difficult at times, but I’ve learned to adapt. In a way, my deafness has taught me to speak up for myself. Because if I don’t, then all I’m doing is making my life harder than it needs to be. It’s also true that I’ve been yelled at when I didn’t deserve it; I’ve been talked down to (even by members of my own family), but even then, my self-esteem has improved over the years. It’s not perfect. I acknowledge that my lack of self-esteem is due, in part, to how I’ve been treated, but it’s better than it used to be. It’s a lifelong process, just like my deafness is something I will always live with.

I live in a muted world.

And you know what? I’m okay with that.

#writing #literary #literary journal #writers on tumblr #submit #publishing #writer #writers and poets #reading

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spydre · 3 years

Text

We Don't Have Time For A Gang War

(Game Date: 4/15/2021)

(Or, This Was Supposed To Be A Side Quest)

There we stood, betwixt the carnage of our skirmish with the Masques and the rubble of their demolished drug factory. My ears were still ringing from the explosion (Katrya's suppliers have top-shelf military supplies) when the foxkin began herding everyone into various vehicles. Mostly she sorted them by age and state of injury; those she deemed more at-risk were directed into the "junk" van, while the rest she wanted in Frank. The new mission, as she saw it and I could not dispute, was to clear out Varfana's shop.

I waved them ahead, because I wanted to stay behind long enough to harvest a BANlink from one of the fallen gangers. Gordianus also stayed, because she wanted to try to gather intel from the neighborhood (she actually did overhear a number of conversations, which may prove useful later). I wished her luck, but also bade her be careful. Then I took my stolen tek and mounted the Owlet.

I was headed for the mech shop; Frank for the weapon shop to help clear it out. During the flight, Lohrig got a text which read, "You messed up," and then Varfana's shop exploded. No one was hurt, thankfully, and most of the important equipment was cleared out, but damn. We can be grateful for Katrya's quick thinking.

Another message followed quickly: "Your next delivery is you. One hour. Mess this one up and we order take-out instead."

They needed somewhere to lay low, and I needed to put together a plan. I suggested Sanctuary. If Border Patrol couldn't track down their missing agents, then I highly doubted that any drug-peddling street thugs could, no matter how determined.

I wasted about five minutes with swearing and self-recrimination. We had stopped our little caffeine-pill operation specifically to avoid starting crap with these street gangs, and now here we were, smack in the middle of a full-fledged war. I should have seen this coming. I should have planned better.

And now, here I have this BANlink, which has contacts and records, but without an active call, I can't trace anything. To make matters worse, the younger members of our cabal are badly shaken, and are asking me to leave them out of future schemes that may involve straight-up murder.

We've been hit in the morale. Time to actually use my brain for something besides keeping my hair in place.

Okay. What do we actually know?

The boss recruits by intimidation. When faced with any sort of resistance, he retaliates and escalates. Right now, he wants Lohrig, which means we absolutely cannot let him have Lohrig. But what else? He made an "or else" threat, so if he doesn't get what he wants, then he will move against the kid's family. Maybe he will, even if he does get what he wants.

I sent Katrya, along with her choice of backup, to check out the family residence. She knows what explosives, and suspicious people, look like, and is more than capable of disarming both. I also send Maggy ahead to the spot where Lohrig is supposed to deliver himself. That should buy a bit of breathing room. How much? I had Parker set a countdown timer. Damn. Not much at all.

Next. We don't have any drones that match the kid's body type. I can simulate his face well enough with a FakeFace(TM) necklace, but that's about it. I fed Lohrig's voice, and my plan, to Parker, slung the Dawn drone onto my Owlet, then made book for Sanctuary.

The idea bubbling up was this: If we could pass Dawn off as the dwarf boy, then perhaps we can ambush their pickup. There is bound to be an active call going on, because the Masque boss will not be able to resist monitoring the kid's punishment. That should give me another chance to trace his location.

But, to do that, I need to get my people, and Lohrig's BANlink, all of which are out at comms-dead Sanctuary. The clock is ticking.

It took Vamir a couple of tries to get the illusion right on the drone. If we weren't already in motion, the delay would have made us late for the rendezvous. All I could do was fidget. To keep myself busy, I worked out a new packet for my anthrodrone virus, telling them to beat any Masque senseless, rip off their mask, and send a picture of their face to Border Patrol. Gave it a five-day lifespan, to keep them from weaponizing the order against innocents. It made me feel better.

Only a few minutes remained when we pulled up, invisibly, to the broken-down playground. Vamir spotted a spy-eye, He saw the brand name (Floating Eye) and that it was tagged with the Masque logo. He could probably have read the serial number if it hadn't been filed off. I immediately started hacking into its signal.

About this time, a call came through on Lohrig's BAN. Parker picked up.

"You messed up, kid. You messed up big-time. And now your family is paying the price. How does that make you feel?"

Parker hesitated. I would have liked to guide my VP through the conversation, but the hack was giving me trouble, and I couldn't afford to split my attention. I just told her to keep them on the line as long as possible.

"I... I feel... sad."

"You should. It's your fault, what happened to the family shop. You had a simple job, to make deliveries, but your failure... Well, that's the kind of guilt you're going to have to carry for the rest of your life."

Parker approximated a sobbing sound. Quite seriously, I don't think it would have fooled someone who was expecting a deception, but the caller (almost certainly the Masque boss) was in it for the gloat.

"Hush now. Don't worry. I have something for you. Go to the slide."

"W-... what's at the slide?"

"You'll see. It's a gift."

Bingo! I found the pilot of the spy-eye. Traced the drone's signal back to his ban and heard him describing all the visible action to someone who sounded exactly like the voice on Lohrig's BAN. I started tracing that call back.

About this time Parker (driving Dawn (disguised as Lohrig)) reached the rusty slide, and was directed by the caller to take a package that was taped beneath it. She, being cautious, asked what was in it.

"Like I said, a gift. Something that will take away your guilt. Take it."

"That is a bomb," warned Katrya, who, like all of us, was eavesdropping over the commlink.

This situation really irritated me. I didn't want to lose this 20k hardware investment over some stupid homemade bomb, but neither did I want the caller to hang up before the trace was complete. I told Parker to proceed, but be ready to throw the package at the pilot's location. So she retrieved it, and took a peek.

Wires, flashing lights, plastique.

"Good," crooned the slimy voice. "Now all you have to do, is let go. Let go, and you won't have to carry this guilt anymore."

"Don't throw that, Parker!" I ordered.

Vamir said, "There's probably a remote detonation switch."

"I'm on it," from Ryatt. Mere seconds later, he reported, "Remote detonater is off, but I can't do anything about the deadman switch."

I was past the first VPN, and had the call back to the same sector of the city as before. "Parker," I said, "don't throw -- run toward the drone pilot. Gang, we are going to try to take a prisoner."

I could hear the pilots panicked reaction over my hijacked link through his drone. He was completely freaked out to see the poor sad little dwarf boy kick up his heels and run straight towards his parked hardshell. He was even more freaked out when his remote detonator didn't work - he kept pressing it, repeatedly, screaming over his BANlink, "I'm trying, it's not going off!"

One more creepy, ominous portent arrived over Lohrig's BANlink: "You don't learn quickly. Goodbye, kid. Shame you'll never get to say goodbye to your family." Then the call terminated...but not before I managed to nail the location. Sector, street, apartment. Gotcha.

Looking up, I saw everything moving very quickly. We had the pilot's van surrounded, although he didn't know it yet, as everyone save the Dawn drone had ruthenium cloaking. He was powering up, getting ready to flee. I shut that down quickly -- after so long struggling against multiple VPNs, it was an absolute pleasure to accomplish a straightforward vehicle hijack.

Meanwhile, back at the dwarven residence, a couple of un-masked Masques had received orders and were making their move, reaching under jackets and closing in on the flat. Katrya and Varfana quickly got that under control - they were carrying explosives, as expected. This gang seems to be overly fond of explosives; we'll have to watch out for that. They were not carrying anything that proved an adequate defense against shocking blades and foxkin fists of fury.

At the sad little playground, we dropped our invisibility once we had the hardshell surrounded. I popped open the door and Vamir told the driver to step out. Which he did...but then he opened his hand, and the night light up.

He had been holding a deadman's switch of his own, and the explosion came either from a bomb he carried on him, or from close behind him in the van. Either way, it killed him instantly. Most of our crew escaped the brunt of the blast.

But not the Dawn drone. Parker had to keep the bomb she was holding still, and couldn't employ full range of movement - and could not get the drone out of the way quickly enough. It was disabled, to say the least, and that was a problem, because it was carrying a live bomb.

The second blast also did not kill anyone, but it certainly ensured that nothing salvageable remained of that drone.

Parker's normal voice quavered across my BANlink. "Did... Did I just die, Zeke?"

I made a mental note to have a long discussion with Parker about death later -- and to take some precautions against her actually dying. For now, I simply reassured her that the loss of the drone did not mean that she died, and praised her performance as a frightened Lohrig.

Then, while the healers were patching everyone up, I scavenged what equipment I could from the wreckage, got the hardshell running, and we headed out.

We needed rest, and a plan. We can not afford to let this go on any further.

..::Kai::..

#Æstas #gaming #writing #FreshWebs #text

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shadowedmiracles-blog · 7 years

Text

Anxiety misunderstandings

First off, if you believe that anxiety is not a mental disorder, then I highly suggest you don’t even read this. Everything I say will probably irritate you and cause you to come to my ask box with things that will just piss me off further. Honestly, I don’t want to deal with it so I’d love it if you didn’t.

Second, yes, this will sound very aggressive and I can’t help it. I had a situation at work this week that caused a climax in my anxiety that I haven’t experienced since high school and caused me to spend an entire lunch break trying to convince myself that I am worth the air I breathe and definitely should not end my life.

Third, I am fully aware that there are probably a shit ton of grammar mistakes and that it probably doesn’t make sense and I’ve more than likely over simplified certain things. Keep in mind that this is based on my experience in dealing with Anxiety and watching the people in my life do the same. You don’t have to agree with me, and if you have some clarification, by all means, add it. I would love to know more. Anxiety is something that in equal parts destroys me and fascinates me. But again, this is MY thought dump, based on MY life. I tried to avoid generalizing, but I’m also too tired to be constantly vigilante enough to recognize every time I did; again, just let me know.

So without further ado, here is my ramble about anxiety based on some bullshit I have seen and experienced over the years while I have dealt with my anxiety.

1.) Anxiety is not a mental illness.

“Mental Illness: any of a broad range of medical conditions [...] that are marked primarily by sufficient disorganization of personality, mind, or emotions to impair normal psychological functioning and cause marked distress or disability and that are typically associated with a disruption in normal thinking, feeling, mood, behavior, interpersonal interactions, or daily functioning.” (x)

With that out of the way, if you have this argument, odds are you don’t live with anxiety.

Now, when I speak of anxiety, I’m not talking about nerves before a life changing event, or the fear of telling your parents you don’t fit society norm. While these things can be something that a person with Anxiety deals with, they are also things that people without anxiety deal with often and without being crippled by them. If you do not deal with Anxiety, you experience these situations, handle them, and move on.

For a person with Anxiety, these situations seem life and death. When faced with a life changing event, their mind creates every possible scenario that could go wrong and then makes them believe every single possibility with every fiber of their being. When faced with fears, every basic sense is in overdrive to the point that a person with Anxiety swears they can taste something in the air they’re breathing, and feel every ounce of blood rushing through their veins. However, these are just small examples of the vast universe that is Anxiety.

There are many different kinds of Anxiety, and each is just as exhausting and crippling as the next.

2.) Anxiety doesn’t kill people.

Except that it can.

Again, there are many different types of anxiety, and some can cause suicide or even homicide.

For example: One of my Anxieties makes me believe I am the world’s biggest screw up. That all I have to do is breathe and I am inconveniencing someone’s life. No matter what situation I’m in, when given a quiet moment to breathe, I will always reflect on my actions and suddenly I will have myself convinced that I did something wrong and that I should be ashamed of it, even if I don’t know what that thing is that I did wrong. There have been two times in my life where my Anxiety had me convinced that I could only make people happy if I didn’t exist in their life and lead me to the conclusion that I just shouldn’t exist at all. Luckily, I was able to pull myself out of those situations, sometimes by recognizing that I needed help instead of fighting by myself. Not everyone is so lucky, or is able to reach out to their support system the way I am.

Another of my Anxieties is a fear based one. I have an incredible phobia of anything going into my skin, and this includes needles to draw blood or get shots. Now, let me preface by saying, I want to get blood tests done. There is so much fucked up shit in my family’s medical history and I want to know what I inherited. However, no matter how much courage I bolster to get myself to sit in the chair, while the nurse is preparing everything, my mind creates scenarios of everything that could go wrong and (again) makes me believe that they all will happen if I don’t stop the nurse from taking my blood. I was able to hold myself together once, and I almost made it, until I lashed out at the nurse and actually slapped the needle from her hand. I had not made the conscious decision to do so, but my Anxiety told me that if I didn’t, I would probably die, and my body reacted accordingly.

So yes, Anxiety can hurt people, and potentially kill. However, I am just one case. I am not every person with anxiety and these are just my own experiences, so don’t be afraid to be around someone when they are coping with their Anxiety. Be cautious for certain, be aware of what they need and try to fill those needs.

3.) Anxiety is just a bunch of emotions, so control them.

I really wish that were the case. I wish it was just emotions that I could mask with another emotion until the Anxiety emotion was muted enough that I could control it. Honestly though, more often, Anxiety is more like a thought process that you don’t get to decide where it goes. It’s a multi-plot book and simultaneously you are the hero, the villain, the jester, the victim, and the village crazy lady.

Anxiety starts out as one innocent thought that could be a statement, a question, a general wonder, or just something. That thought leads to another thought, and then that thought leads to another thought, and then you mail that thought to yourself, and when it arrives, you get smashed with a thousand pound thought train (x) that leaves you crippled and numb for an awful length of time until someone pokes me back to life and you’re trying to figure out if you figured out a solution to the first thought while that person is asking you if you want to do something that’s probably fun but sounds like a lot of work because you are suddenly exhausted and want to do nothing but curl up in the closest dark space with the hope that your mind is done torturing you enough to let you sleep off the exhaustion.

I’ve just simplified something that is extremely complicated. Just know that Anxiety is not simply emotions, and you can’t just get over it. It takes more effort to pull yourself out of it, than it did to fall down the rabbit hole in the first place.

4.) People with Anxiety are over-dramatic.

Thank you, they are probably very much aware of this, and often times it just further feeds into the Anxiety because they are aware of this and hate themselves for it.

Unfortunately, people with Anxiety are hyper aware that what is going on is illogical, and often times because of that they act illogical. That’s why many people with Anxiety will seek out logic to cope with their Anxiety. I, for example, solve math equations and riddles to cope. To me, that is the very definition of logic; 2+2 is always 4 and my Anxiety cannot convince me otherwise. However, there are times that, before I can get to that blissful paradise of logic, I react very dramatically.

Anxiety is not an excuse for being over-dramatic, but it is a cause, and most people with Anxiety would really love it if you could refrain from pointing out that they are being over-dramatic. Not just because it’s irritating, but chances are high that the person with Anxiety is already ashamed of how they’re acting and their Anxiety is already telling them that they will now go to jail for screaming that you’re an asshole who deserves to choke on a fly.

5.) People with Anxiety only care about themselves.

Quite the opposite actually. People with anxiety tend to care too much. They care about the people around them, they care what others think of them, they care about how they effect the world, and they care about how they are inconveniencing a store owner by only going in to use the store bathroom without buying something because they have no money to spend and just really need to go poop.

People with Anxiety care a lot, and more often than not, that is a trigger for Anxiety. They are probably the people that you see sacrificing their time or money when they really have none to sacrifice, and all because their Anxiety has told them that if they don’t, the world will end and it will be their fault and all the survivors will come after them with pitchforks and torches.

Or they’re just a really amazing person and you should buy them a bouquet of flowers...as long as their not allergic to flowers, then you should buy them chocolates...if they like chocolates, if not then hug them...but maybe they don’t like being touched...you know what, just cherish them.

P.S. Because we do care a lot, please know that we really don’t want to share that facebook post that says, “Only the people who truly care about me will share this”, but we just spent ten minutes crying because if we don’t share it, that means we don’t care about you, so we have to share it to prove that we care about you, but if we do share it then someone else might get offended and we just offended that person, but if we don’t then we’re offending you...get it?

6.) But (insert socially accepted mental illness) is much worse than Anxiety.

Every mental illness is awful in its own way. Each effects people differently, and even if two people are diagnosed with the same mental illness, they can experience it differently.

There is no mental illness that is the worst. They are all horrible and should be treated with love and caring in equal amounts as every other mental illness.

Honestly, I could go on for longer about this, and maybe some day I will. But right now, I am super exhausted and I still need to get a shower before heading to bed so I wont have to get up any earlier to get ready for work because I’m going to a funeral and I feel the need to put on makeup because I don’t want the people at the funeral to feel like I don’t care about my great-aunt.

So, I’m going to leave this here. Feel free to message me. I can take critique, but I’m not in the mood to handle hate, so I’m seriously begging that you just don’t.

I hope you all are doing well.

#anxiety #anxiety problems #I'm rambling again #my thoughts #long post

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saferincages · 7 years

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my illness and pain levels and fatigue have been so extreme and out of control for the past three-ish weeks (and really longer than that, I feel as though it’s been simmering badly under the surface for quite a while now and finally managed to break me down completely), and I’m sorry for not being here to answer messages or check my dash or anything like that recently. I basically haven’t touched my computer at all since I set up a couple of weeks’ worth of queue, looking at the screen has been too overwhelming for my headaches and sitting here is excruciating for my spine and I’ve even been having trouble typing without joint pain (not to mention my concentration/focus not being good lately). I essentially set the queue and climbed into bed, just trying to get some semblance of strength back.

I’d like to take a moment to specifically thank @sealwife, @sansasnark, @elizabethtudors, @fancykraken, @xxsparksxx, and @christinedaae for being the beautiful human beings and extraordinary friends they are - each of you ladies has reached out to me specifically and have inferred that I might not be doing well lately, and I apologize with all my heart for not being able to respond to you properly or give that attention back to you in the way you all deserve. Also to @desireearmfeldt, @someoneoffthestreet, @ohfantine, and anyone else who has left me thoughtful messages/replies/comfort. I feel as though I’ve let you down somewhat spectacularly of late, which would never be my intention - I know I haven’t been very good at friendship lately, and you’re all blessings in my life, and have been so for many years now - you give me reasons to keep being here and keep surviving, and reminders of strength and the hope of keeping one’s heart open. I love you and think of you always, even when I haven’t managed to say it often enough.

I’ve had a lot that I’ve wanted to write about for many months, and have not had the energy or inclination to do it, but I’m finally at the point where I think I can at least provide an overview.

First of all, before I get into my stuff, I want to say that Angel’s doing much better! It turns out - we think - that it wasn’t her pancreatitis flaring up, but rather that she was having an awful allergic reaction. There’s a dental treat that we’ve been giving her for a long time that helps her teeth, but recently I couldn’t buy them from the same place or find them at a reasonable price anywhere online, so we had started her on a different little biscuit, and something in that upset her system. I feel horrible, I would never have knowingly given her something that made her so sick. :( Fortunately, after we figured out what the culprit must be, she was only ill and unable to keep anything down for a couple of days, and after we got her little tummy more back to normal on a simple chicken and rice diet, she went back to her regular food. She’s been her happy, peppy, sweet little self since, and she’s been right at my side trying to take good care of me while I’ve been so sick myself.

A few of you know this, but back in July, I had my first initial disability hearing. I’ve been fighting for this for years, after being denied through paperwork alone twice. Finally being able to go before a judge was terrifying, but I had hoped maybe my long battles would lead somewhere. If you don’t know anything about the process, it is byzantine and cruel and borderline absurd at times, and after having seen it from the inside...I’m amazed that anyone ever gets help at all. Anyway, I walked into court that summer day, and they give you a CD of your records, everything that you’ve given them permission to gather - which, for me, was supposed to be every file and medical record going back to our car accident in 2005, the hospital visits, the months of physical therapy, and then the dozens of doctors and tests and procedures I’ve been through since the onset of my chronic illnesses. But, surprise! I open up the file, and all of my records have been purged, without my authority and entirely unbeknownst to me. No one ever warned me this would, or even could, happen, or we would have procured my records ourselves over the years. A warning - if you EVER think you’re going to need medical records, demand your own copies, because they can destroy them without ever alerting you that they plan to do so. My entire life, the existence that I’ve been reduced to, that I irrevocably lost my twenties to, that I lost college and my future and dreams to, it was basically all documented in medical records that now do not exist, which, in all honesty, felt like a death in itself. I stared at those blank pages, at those faxes where “record/patient cannot be found” or “record has been destroyed,” and barely managed to stop myself from bursting into tears. There’s no evidence of how being ill has taken my life. I sat in front of the judge as he flipped through empty pages, perplexed, and decided to postpone my case. I didn’t have legal representation, and he wanted to send me for more court ordered medical evaluations since there was nothing for him to really look at. My mom barely got me out of that room and into the bathroom before I had a full blown panic attack, clutching the counter in front of the sink and sobbing and barely able to breathe.

And then I followed instructions, and went to my set appointments. I can’t begin to describe how banal the ‘tests’ are that a doctor gives you in these court ordered exams - can you walk once from one end of a small room to the other? can you raise your arms over your head or lift your legs while you’re in a chair for a few seconds? can you repeat back a sentence or a few words when they’re said to you? Congratulations, those standards likely mean they’re going to think you’re not disabled. The fact that you likely wouldn’t be able to repeat these menial tasks over and over again, the fact that you’re in constant pain or have a compromised immune system or can’t stand up for long without the risk of heart palpitations/dizziness/possible fainting or can’t possibly work a job or go to school because you’re too sick and you’re entirely unreliable - none of this is taken into account. The physician has to write down that you walked across that room and spoke complete sentences of your own volition, and immediately you’re seen as able-bodied. I know. I was also sent to a neuropsychologist (likely because the judge knew I was teetering on the edge of that panic attack).

Going through this means being asked invasive, awful questions that aren’t even necessarily pertinent to one’s disability (ie: why don’t you date/have sex? ...as if that’s any measure of ability or is even a priority of any kind when you literally are unable to leave the house. what do you do for fun? and so forth), being looked at with suspicion and accused, both subtly and directly, of malingering or attention-seeking, being prodded and judged and dehumanized and demoralized, all because you want the most minimal of help to simply survive. It is a horror, a lot of it is emotional/psychological insult on top of the pre-existing injury of being chronically ill, and it has taken a severe toll on me.

One of the doctors I met through these court appointments was really good, though, she was well-versed on CFS and POTS and even my GI issues, and she genuinely wanted to help me. I don’t have insurance beyond basic Medicaid, but she told me her office takes it. I was going to establish her as my GP to help with my case. Well, guess what? I called her, and suddenly was informed that her office had decided to no longer accept Medicaid patients. So, there goes that. I’ve lost track of the number of physicians that I’ve called in desperation who refuse to see me because they don’t take Medicaid. I don’t have a doctor’s help. (I could, and likely very much need to, go to an indigent clinic for basic care, where I could see an RN, but that isn’t an avenue that will help with a court case, because you’re supposed to have an established physician. I had to stop seeing my GP back when my dad dropped my insurance in late 2009, after I’d made several trips up to the hospital in Denver to have specialized blood tests and exams, so...that’s a long gap of time without a regular doctor’s care, and, again, now all of those records are gone).

Furthermore, even though you’re not required to have an attorney in these cases, it does notably help to have representation. I was given a list of lawyers to call and consult with after that preliminary hearing. Not a single lawyer would help me, because of my records having been destroyed. The first lawyer I called, in fact, told me it would not be “financially advantageous” for her to take my case. Most of them wouldn’t even call me back, but the few that did bother to respond to my messages would either tell me something along the same lines or apparently weren’t taking new clients. One told me to “start over,” which wouldn’t merely be a herculean task, it would be impossible and pointless. The entire reason I filed the case the way I did was because 1) I’VE BEEN INJURED AND SICK SINCE 2005, and starting over would be like saying I only just got ill in 2016, thus destroying my entire history and 2) because I physically could not work at an age where I was still considered under my parents’ care (it’s similar to the law that allows you to stay on a parents’ health plan?), the case was filed under their names and SSNs. I have never paid into Social Security because I haven’t worked, but they, of course, have, so the ‘loss’ of income that I then could have received (which, at most, would have been just under $700 a month, which may not sound like much, but anything would be a fortune to me considering I have absolutely NOTHING). If I started over, my case would be dead in the water immediately, because my parents’ loss would no longer be taken into account. I was left floundering and constantly crying after phone calls, after every doctor and lawyer refused to see me or help me, realizing these people who are meant to be in place to protect and assist people would do nothing for me.

My second hearing, the one that was meant to be the official proceeding, was in November. And even without a doctor or a lawyer, I went to court. I wrote an eloquent letter to the judge, which he even thanked me for, explaining my illness and what it has done to my life. We went in expecting to proceed. Another bizarre little part of this process is the ‘expert testimony’ - you see, the court calls on ‘witnesses’ to testify in your case. These witnesses generally have some basic knowledge of one of the aspects of whatever you deal with (in my case, they had called on a physical therapist and a gastroenterologist). Now, keep in mind, these are not people who have ever met you. They have never treated you. They have never seen your specific symptoms or limitations. The people they called on weren’t even in my state. I don’t understand how in the hell they expect this to help - no two patients or human beings are the same. Every illness, every symptom, affects people differently. So having general knowledge of a thing isn’t going to tell you about one specific, unique individual. I will never understand this, it will never make sense to me. But, of course, in my case, again, my records are gone! I don’t know what they were even supposed to be reviewing, other than the court mandated appointments I’ve been to over the past two years. Only, guess what? The GI specialist whose testimony was to be called first? He never even received the file that he was supposed to review and call in for my case. They telephoned his office and nobody had any information or any idea about it. So, yet again, the judge (by this point very frustrated) postponed me.

I contacted a couple more lawyers, to the same non-result. The last one I e-mailed was two weeks ago, because that’s when I got the next letter. My hearing was supposed to be today. The thing is, everything had changed. I suddenly had a new judge. The ‘witnesses’ were different. (No longer was a gastroenterologist on the case, for example, now it was an entirely different physical therapy office, but no accredited physician of any kind or any speciality, despite my many diagnosed illnesses). I sent back the paperwork, but I didn’t go in to court today. The case was dismissed out of hand.

I had what I can only classify as an emotional breakdown. I’ve been coping with suicidal ideation for years, I live with it all the time, like a quiet drip or white noise in the back of my brain, something I’m used to, and occasionally hear, and consider, and then filter out. Anyone who lives with constant suicidal ideation will probably tell you they get used to it - it’s like an escape hatch. You’re not going to use it, but you also know it’s there. Well, between Angel being sick and me feeling like it was my fault, my mother being quite ill herself (this is a whole other topic and she doesn’t want me to discuss it, so I’m trying to respect that wish), and the crush of agony and lack of sleep and constant illness that I’ve been dealing with from my own body, I just lost it. I haven’t been what I would consider genuinely suicidal or so depressed that I couldn’t function since 2009, but this threw me back into an extremely dark, dangerous, and self-harmful place. I felt destroyed, I felt like I didn’t want and didn’t deserve to be here anymore, that after all the time I’ve spent trying to advocate for myself, trying to fight, it was all boiling down to nothing. For a couple of days, I was honestly worried that I needed to get help, but I didn’t want to have to go to a hospital, I didn’t want to put my mom through that, so I forced myself to push past it alone. I don’t think I’m in danger of doing further harm to myself right now. I’m just so tired. Which in itself is a small, pointless statement. I feel broken down. It isn’t only the severe pain, the exhaustion, the sickness, the ever-evolving grief cycles that I live with as goals and dreams and ideals pass away, fade further and further into the past. This time, I feel that something has been taken from me. I feel like I’ve suffered repeated deaths of myself, of the girl I used to be, could have been, wanted to be, but this is a new type of death. I feel as though whatever I was trying to fight for - dignity? the right to keep surviving? the right to ask for help? the right to hold on to hope? the right to expect, if not kindness or understanding, the basic acknowledgement of my humanity? - has been stripped from me. Some essential part of my light, even if it’s only a sliver of it, has been snuffed out. That quote from Gone Girl, strange as that may sound, has been on repeat in my mind so often, but rather than having a person to put it on, it’s more existential - this process has taken my pride and my dignity and my hope, has taken and taken from me until I feel as though I no longer existed. I can blame the arduous system, but mostly that guilt and blame falls on myself, even if that’s illogical or I don’t deserve it. I’ve said this many times before, but I feel like a ghost, the spectral remnant of the girl who had meaning and worth and deserved to be here.

I have always had so much love in my heart, and have striven so hard to be compassionate, to give even the smallest fragments of good that I can to others, and I have failed at that a lot lately in trying to deal with and compartmentalize the desperation of all of this. I think finally falling apart, physically and emotionally/mentally, was the only response I could have. And it hurts me, too, seeing the cloud we’re all under - there’s so much hatred, exclusion, meanness, and violence happening around us. The current events have been so ugly. The hugeness of that has been tearing at my spirit as much as my own personal struggles have been. It finally all got to be too much.

I just...it’s hard to comprehend our society, how it actively works against those in need, how it excludes the most vulnerable among us, how it shames people for needing assistance to simply keep living, how providing food or medical care is seen as a luxury rather than a basic right. I wish I had the power to comprehensively change it, to lift up everyone else who has been in my position, to expose its faults and horrors, hold them up to the light, and transform them for the better, but I can’t, because I couldn’t even affect that change for myself. It kills me that anyone else ever has to feel this helpless and powerless and worthless. It makes my heart ache that the sick and injured and impoverished and disabled are seen as subhuman. We have a right to live, to nurture and be nurtured, to love and be loved. We have a right to be seen and heard.

I wanted to write this today since today is finally the end of this fight for me, since I never got to that proper hearing to determine that fate, since it was tossed aside. I tried for so long to get someone to hear me or legitimize me or realize I needed help, and I lost. I figured documenting it now is all I had left to do. I’m feeling adrift and voiceless because I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve been carrying on with this fight and now I have to put it down, with nothing to show for it but the battle scars.

#bubble wrap around my heart #suicidal ideation tw #chronic illness #i think i am a better ghost than i am a human being #depression cw #disability #hopefully this is coherent and those tags are enough #i'm still really scattered

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theblog888 · 6 years

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Passion and profit are at odds with each other.

At least this is how I see it in my own life, and I feel absolutely justified in maintaining this stance. This isn't necessarily the case for everybody, but I am all too familiar with my own tendencies to dawdle and procrastinate while I figure out how to work through technical details and business skills required for making a profit off of my creative expressions. This hampers creativity and initiative, because I feel I would be concerning myself more with wanting to make money and keep up an image than to be passionately writing, singing, vlogging or whatever else. Also taking into account that I myself am a freeloader, I never disable adblock unless forced to, I never buy things from or give donations to content creators, and begging or soliciting donations in general is not something I would want to do.

If I don't concern myself with monetizing or marketing my creations at all, then I can focus solely on the works themselves. I do believe I am exceptionally talented in many ways, and many which are not even yet known to me, but feel as if there is no clear cut path to both actualize and capitalize on any of my talents- unless I happen to meet the right people, but that is super unlikely as an avoidant, emotionally inverted NEET INTP. I have read about actors and musicians who are extremely talented, yet they need other people to help them with anything technical, anything outside purely being the artist. This is exactly how I see my own potential.

In my jobs as a grocery clerk, it was all simple and straightforward: basically put products on the shelf, move oldest to the front and remove expired product, clean up after yourself, store excess product in the backstock area, show people where things are, take special requests and call other stores whenever asked. It seems I lack the specific type of intelligence and/or concentration ability to succeed at anything more technically advanced than that.

Everything is all so complicated, layers upon layers of complexity beyond simply performing a service and receiving commensurate compensation. I simply cannot navigate this confusing system, this present day economy, unless everything is spelled out for me in clear step by step processes that can be acted upon instantly, or all that stuff is just taken care of for me. Certainly I will acknowledge the possibility that I can be able to learn any such skills, but my reluctance and resistance to is well founded, since all the hours I would have to spend of researching and applying everything I need to business savvy and technically skilled would change my brain in ways that would negatively impact the very passions I want to tap into.

And it is a moot point anyway, since I am sure I lack the attention span, types of intelligence and other personality traits to actually learn such skills, and it is doubtful any of my creative projects would be profitable at all. Not to mention that some ideas which seem so brilliant at one time may seem trivial or even ridiculous a month later. A good example of this was my "comfort products" review channel idea, where I would begin by reviewing things I already have like my bed, mattress topper, pillow, body pillow, blanket, chair and computer keyboard. I don't reasonably expect to make much money off of running YouTube ads (which most people including myself block anyway) and posting affiliate links with my videos when available. It seemed like such a grand idea and a true passion project less than a month ago, but now it just seems like it would just be "talking for the sake of talking" rather than giving people useful information, reviews would be redundant, mostly just stating the obvious, and I also would quickly run out of things to review.

Labeling such sentiments as a "limiting beliefs" won't change a thing. Accusing others of holding a limiting belief is what new age yuppie types born into material privilege, or those who just got lucky, tend to do instead of admitting that life is not fair, that other people have internal and external limitations that cannot be overcome by thinking your way around them. I am a master of subjective framing, but that only works to control how your perceive yourself and the world around, It does not change the material world. My own mechanisms of molding reality to my will are passive and effortless, they are all about being, not doing.

When it comes down to it though, I must admit that I really don't want to concern myself with things like making websites, fine-tuning audio/video content, marketing myself, and running a business. I just want to live passionately, and having to master those types of skills is antithetical to my resolve to just be present and live passionately. This was always the case, and I don't think it could ever change. The most clear example is school, where I would often enjoy learning things from the teacher/professor, presentations in class, and the reading material, but having to wake up to an alarm to sit in a classroom much of the day 5 days a week, leaving school only to have complete assignments many be miserable, dispassionate, drained, apathetic, jaded, depressed. This really feels like the embodiment of my "lazy but talented" syndrome. I can only be my best self, and create my best art, give my best performance, when I am free to go to sleep and wake up whenever my body (and the sleeping environment) will let me, and I work on my own schedule, free to take it super slow with frequent breaks, or stay up all night passionately creating things because I am so engrossed in the activity I don't want to go to bed.

These are all just reflective self-analyses I reached without any emotional value attached, I am only looking at what is. I often suspect that when neurotypicals read my writing, which is devoid of emotional meaning unless specified, they misunderstand my objective, matter-of-fact analytical style as being depressed, self-deprecating, neurotic or whatever else they imagine. It is one of those things that I might want to put as a disclaimer with everything I ever write, just in case someone misinterprets it form a frame of reacting emotionally rather than thinking critically. With this case-in-point, I also must accept that I may not be as talented at a thing, or anything at all, as I might imagine. I wouldn't really be surprised if that was the case, since I have never really found anything outside myself that I've felt passionate about, or derived meaning or purpose from. In this perspective it makes sense how other people would get little to no value from my writing, since it is writing my myself for myself, as a useful tool of pondering, reflecting and exploring the internal world, and external world through my own filters. Likewise, I often wonder if when I talk to other people, even those I'd consider close friends, I'm merely using them as a sounding board for my own ideas about things, not providing any direct value to them. Then again, I should not assume that other look at relationships as transactional, and they actually enjoy my interactions and companionship even if my being self-absorbed is readily apparent.

Perhaps no one will ever read this blog except me, and it will be just my own personal journal. Which is perfectly fine, and the main reason I began writing here. I have no fantasies, illusions or delusions that I can expect to ever make money as a writer. Or singer, or actor, or voice artist, or ergonomist, philosopher.

The silver lining Is that keeping up with the writing is helping me grow by leaps and bunds, both because it helps me clear out things that have been accumulating in my mind for a long time, sometimes over a decade, so that space is freed up for new developments in my mental studio, and that writing things out as opposed to just thinking about them in my head lays it all out in front of me, so it is much easier to explore things further, and maybe actually reach conclusions and solve problems during the writing process.

And I do imagine that there are many unexpected ways in which following my passions and creating what I envision will lead to many unforeseen opportunities for improving my life on a material/financial level as well. The most obvious being that I am making things I can showcase, and if the right people encounter them, perhaps some will recognize my talent, even feel deeply touched by my very essence, they could lead me to opportunities to actualize what I envision- given free reign to live passionately and create my heart's desires, while also making money, while all the technical and business details are taken care of for me. But this is not something I will even consider, for now it is just a fantasy, perhaps one I will look back upon as being as delusional as going back in time or starting my own country. Meanwhile, I intend to just focus on being my best self, living passionately, self-actualizing, understanding the world within and the nature of humanity even more. I will not worry, things will be all right, it will all work out. This is my reality, this is what I am attracting and embodying. There is nothing to fear but fear itself. Generally the worst that can happen is death, and so no matter what, my experience will always be that of living the life I want, because I believe that I already am.

#writing #passion #laziness #self reflection #self-reflection #blogging #smart but #lazy #smart but lazy #talented but lazy #NEET

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superblyjovialtheorist-blog · 6 years

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Bend Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97703

"Bend Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97703

Bend Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97703

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I've heard that getting insurance when you rent a car is pointless because your regular auto insurance will cover you, because insurance covers the driver and not the car. If we were to get the car insurance for the rental car, it would add an extra $250. Obviously our regular insurance has to cover us, or else the car rental place wouldn't make this insurance optional. Am i right? Should we consider getting the insurance?""

Rover Mini insurance

Hi, im 16 years old and want to buy a rover mini pre 1997 as they have an airbag then, i wanted to know roughly how much it would cost to insure a 17/18 year old in a 1.3 litre rover mini. And im not a speed obsessed crazy teen, i would want to keep it nice and would not drive that fast anyway. Anyone know a figure?""

Bend Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97703

Car accident and no insurance!! Advice?

My brother just got caught driving without insurance. I know this sounds bad, but he has been struggling with money for some time now, and has many school loans he is paying off.... Too make a long story short, he can't afford car insurance and made a dumb move to drive to work and back without insurance. Now a car drove in to him, and had no insurance to show the officer. He now has to show up to court to prove that he had insurance!!! I feel bad for him.....what is the fine? He wasn't at fault for the accident! He just got back on insurance but he didn't have it at the time of the accident.... What is going to happen? What should he do to save himself??? Please help.... :S""

How much is a Geico car insurance for a minor ?

I am 17 years old and I am just wondering how much I will have to pay for my car insurance. My mom has Geico, and I am sure that will be the one I will have, too. Help!""

Ne 1 know a cheap 4x4 insurance company?

Requirements for california drivers license?

how many behind the wheel professional training hours are required in the state of california in order to get a license?

Do I have to give my Friend the car insurance details?

Me, my partner and my friend were in a car accident involving a polish driver who drove into the side of us. We exchanged details and my insurance company have been attempting to contact the polish insurance company with no luck. The accident happened in October and they has still had no luck. My friend said she wasnt hurt but was gonig to make a claim for whiplash. I told her she shouldnt make a false claim and I asked her not to as it would prob come out of my insurance as the polish company were not gettnig back to us. She agreed she wouldnt make a claim. She has since lost her job and spoke to me today saying she has spoken to a company who is going to make the claim for her. She has asked for the insurance details for the polish company as it was there fault and she says she doesnt need any details from me. Firstly - do I leagally have to give her the details for the polish driver/ insurance? and if she has no luck there will I have to give her my details so she can claim on my insurance? I know she isnt hurt and it just annoys me she could be putting my insurance up if she makes a claim against me! Any advice would be useful! Thanks""

Why don't Gay men get the same car insurance rates as women?

Quebec car insurance question?

does anyone know how much insurance would be on a Camaro for 17 year old im not sure which year of the camaro or like if its like 1 side or whatever im not to sure how that works but just roughly for a car like that how much would it cost? thank you

How much would car insurance go up?

I'm currently driving a 1994 Honda accord and i'm paying $150/MO for car insurance. How much would my car insurance go up if I bought a used car...let's say a 2002 Audi Thanks!

Car Insurance for Teen Drivers?

How much is the discount for having good grades? i think you need at least a 3.0 GPA to qualify for something i think that's called the Good Student Discount . does anyone know any other information about this?

I'm studying abroad in China next semester and want to know if I can add my friend to my car insurance?

Since I'm studying abroad, I have to find something to do with my my car. My friend is willing to take the car while I'm gone, but I've had some complications with my insurance. I spoke with my insurance rep, and she strongly discouraged me from adding my friend onto my policy. She said since my name was on title and on the off chance he had an accident, the person involved can go after the insurance as well as my future earnings. It seems really unlikely that someone could get that much money out of the insurance and continue to go after the car owner as well, but I'm concerned. Can I have my friend sign something that will state he will pay me back for the future earnings lost if they pursue me? If so, what kind of form and what needs to be stated? Will it hold up legally? I also thought of selling my friend the car for a dollar so his name would be on the title instead of mine; however, I have a 10 year accident free discount that knocks off over $200 in insurance a year and that would disappear if I ended my coverage. I would have my family take the car while I'm gone, but I don't have family in the area. I feel the best option would be to add my friend to my current coverage and have him sign something that states he will pay me back for future earnings if there is that kind of an accident. He is willing to do both, but I don't have any idea if there is such a form I can have him sign or if I should just type something up? Any advice or suggestions would be much appreciated! Thanks""

""Conservatives, you're always claiming that Obama-care is the reason that insurance costs are increasing, so?""

regarding the 80% increase in insurance premiums, and the 11% increase in the number of Americans who did not have health insurance coverage during the Bush presidency, was that because a magical elf traveled back in time to the year 2000 to tell insurance company executives that Obamacare was coming? Or could it be that insurance premiums have been increasing at an average rate of 8 to 11% per year for about the last 15 years and the increases we've seen in the last few years aren't indicative of costs associated with Obama-care (Which hasn't even been fully implemented yet) and Conservatives are just trying to make political hay out of cost increases that are consistent with established trends?""

What is the estimated insurance for this car?

2-Door Coupe 1989 BMW 6 Series Coupe 2D 635CS, costing $6,000 new 16 yr. old driver.15-20000 in coverage.""

Different car insurance quote from same provider?

Hi, i went on a comparison site called Q4 insure and had a cheap car insurance quote from a company called ecar which i was very pleased with. i checked the benefits etc and i was quite happy. I went to their website to go direct and to see and make sure that there wasn't any mistakes or extra details i needed to give and the quote came back 800 more! does anyone have any idea why this is?? i done everything exactly the same and was very honest with my answers.""

Leaving for several month. what about car insurance?

I'm leaving USA for about 4 months. What should I do with my car insurance? I don't really wanna pay for insurance because I won't be in the USA. What should I do? need a good advice

Where can I get insurance for an older car?

I have a 1969 VW Beetle and need cheapish insurance. Very few insurers will cover a car that old unless it is a classic , but as this means it can only really be driven to shows and whatnot, it won't work for me. This is my daily driver. Thanks in advance.""

Can I add my son to my fiances car insurance?

My son just turned 16, and I have been researching insurance cost for him. My fiance drives a company car, and his own personal truck just sits in the driveway. It would be much cheaper adding my son to his truck (84.00) as an occasional driver versus putting him on mine (154.00) as an occasional driver. My car is considered a class C vehicle (Landrover) which is why it would be more expensive. Does anybody know if insurance companies would allow this, being that we are not married yet? Thanks!!""

""NY plates & registration, but Connecticut Insurance?""

My car has NY plates and was registered in NY. I moved to CT, and have CT auto insurance. Is it okay to have auto insurance in the state you live but the car is registered and plated in another?""

Should I buy my own insurance?

I'm a named driver under my husband's insurance for 2 years. Just brought another car, if the insurance under my name + husband it cost 450, if under my husband's name + me it cost only 200, is't better buy my owne one?""

Is there more opportunity in life insurance sales or as a real estate agent?

I am wondering what is more lucrative life-insurance sales or real estate. I have a passion for both of them I am just wondering what is the most lucrative and what offers the biggest opportunity to become a millionaire in. I have been offered a position at mass mutual. I have a big interest in investing and stocks. They sell mostly insurance products. But you can also get your series 6 and 7 and sell securites. What is the biggest earning potential, life insurance sales, or working as a real estate agent. Any guidance would be great. I'm on a road trip so If there are typos my apologys.""

Car insurance quotes?

Is there any place to get a car insurance quote without entering in a bunch of personal information? I am looking for quotes for a sedan, coupe, and SUV for a new 16 year old male driver. (Im trying to decide what a good deal is, and what is worth buying)""

""What is the rate of car insurance in denver, co?""

also, i am going to be going school there and i am from hawaii..will i have to change my license plate and get a new car insurance or can i keep my hawaii insurance because im just a student.""

What grades do insurance companies go off of (in CA)?

For the discount on insurance, do insurance companies look from the current term's gpa, the last term gpa, or the gpa overall (in the year so far)? (in the state of california)""

In Texas are you required to inform your medical insurance company when you are in a car accident?

My girlfriend was in a car accident last year and her insurance company is not paying her physical therapy bills because she did not inform them at the time of the accident.

Do I have to pay more for my car insurance?

I purchased a car with a car loan and I had to get full coverage insurance. I pay monthly and I have to do this for 6 months. The sixth month will be on May. I just paid off my car loan so I no longer want to pay extra money for full coverage. I had to pay a down payment for my insurance so my monthly payments would be cheaper. My question is do I have to pay another down payment if I switch to the liability coverage? Do I have to pay those last two months in order to switch to a liability coverage? I live in California.

Insurance on my car after crash?

my car as in a hit and run accident my car was the hit and run car i wasn't the driver my frined was i want to call my insurance company to get it fixed but i dont want to get my friend in trouble can the insurance company tell where the car got towed from and if i tell them i crashed into a ditch and got it towed will they know

Bend Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97703

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