fe_male | memeboxing

[ Right now he's at all states of high alert, so it's probably a better idea to avoid touching him altogether until they're ready to actually get started. He's already having a hard time working out whether he wants to be able to see the door - which would likely mean having her between him and it - or whether he wants to be closer to the door, even though that would mean having it out of his immediate field of vision.

Literally everything about them is complicated in stages and avenues beyond what any naturally occurring thing ought to be able to find.

At any rate, he sort of belatedly nods to indicate he's still listening to her, although he's a little preoccupied taking breaths that are slightly too big and trying to figure out all of these adrenal reactions happening to process it too much beyond that level. ] That'll make the positioning awkward.

[ If he mentions that, she'll try to figure out a way that he can see it and not have her between him and it. There's probably a way, even if it'll only make the positioning more awkward. It can be sorted. She doesn't really care what she has to do, here. She's gotten this far and she's not going to give up or gain any qualms or reservations now. Whatever it takes to help him, she'll do it.

It's kind of impressive that at any point in time they managed to come together long enough to start establishing enough of a relationship to get past the complications. ]

Little bit, maybe, but we can figure it out. [ She sits down on the side of the bed, offers him her hand. ] It'll be okay.

[ He likely won't until he's already starting to flip out about it. Right now he feels like he's revealed plenty enough vulnerability and weakness and he's starting to feel like he's leaking or something and he doesn't realize that saying it to her now, relatively calmly, would be better than blurting it out after it's clearly started to really bother him.

Yeahhhhhhhh. They're a very special pair.

That too, he eyes first, evaluating, sizing up, then slowly takes it, lowering to sit on the edge of the bed, about three-quarters facing her. ] Yeah. Yeah, it- [ Breathe. Breathe. You still can, so breathe. ] It'll be fine.

[ It would definitely be far better, really, but she'll consider it a victory that he's here sitting on the bed with her as she pulls one leg up onto the bed and angles her body towards him, fingers warm around his as she just holds onto his hand for a bit, lets him settle into this space. She doesn't want him to necessarily psyche himself up for it, but she does want him to have the time to sit right here and adjust to it for a bit before she tries to add anything new to it. ]

Do you trust me?

[ It's not an academic question. She knows he does to pretty strong extents, but this is - something else. And regardless, she wants the confirmation of it said out loud, for both of their benefits, wants him to remind himself that he does, along with the almost as important motive that she doesn't want him to simply sit here and think about what they're about to do. She'll direct their conversation, then, for both of their sakes', work slowly on guiding him into this. ]

[ She has so many good ideas, really. It's amazing how many good ideas she has, and how well she can figure him out, because psyching himself up for this and dwelling on what's about to happen are both exactly what he's going to do if left to his own thoughts and patterns, and while neither one of them is particularly helpful, they happen to be even worse in that they actively prevent the other from progressing, while simultaneously not letting the other cease. He's very good at closed-circuits.

So the question sort of takes him by surprise, for a number of reasons, but most of them flutter right out on the pitter-pat of his too-fast heartbeat as he looks at her again before replying. ]

Yeah. [ And he doesn't sound surprised so much as he does like he's reminding himself, just like she was hoping. He trusts her. He doesn't have to worry about this turning into something out of his control again, not when she's actually attempting to wrest control back for him out of the chaos. He trusts her to help him like that, and it's scary, and it's new, but it's the truth. ] Yeah, I trust you.

[ It's a mixture of knowing him and having done not precisely this but similar things before. If you're going to do homebrewed psychiatry on someone in an attempt to get them back into fighting shape, generally you get the resident empath to do it.

Mostly, though, it's that she does know very well how he works by now, and she's almost always adjusting for it whether she actively even realizes it or not. Right now she definitely realizes what she's doing though, is making almost every movement terribly deliberately. She nods at the agreement, holds her hands palms up in plain view. ] Okay. I'm not going to do anything without telling you first, all right? Nothing happens without your permission. That's the rules.

[ She brushes against his mind for a moment, closes her eyes and then opens them again, a reminder that she's not going to leave him alone in any sense, that she'll be paying very careful attention. ] How we do a safe word is entirely up to you. [ The more choice left up to him, the better. He can't go into this feeling like she's made all the choices. ]

[ That's good, because he's watching her very carefully. He doesn't want to be taken by surprise (not that he really thinks she would do that, but, still) and he still doesn't quite know what to be expecting, so. Complete observer mode, because observation - if it's done well enough - means you don't actually have to think about what you're looking at.

He nods in response to her first statements, feels the familiar and comforting presence of her mind just afterwards. His own is in relative tumult, just behind the shields he still has up (actually, his shields are quite strong at the moment, where he's instinctively or actively holding them up. It's not a strength issue at the moment in as much as it is simply having them in the right places) - having her own mind so close is moderately calming, although really, right now, there's not a whole lot that can be done one way or the other.

It takes a second to swallow down the tightness in his throat though. ] Color. It'll - we can use color. I'll send it if I can't - [ Well, if he can't say it. Somehow he thinks that might be a problem, but he should be able to send her something as simple as a color. It doesn't need to be complicated. ]

[ She reaches her hands slowly to his, covers them with her own and smooths her fingers across his skin slowly, back and forth. A soothing gesture, and also one calculated to keep it in his mind that her hands are nothing to be afraid of, that they are used only with the aim to help him. Reminders, first, before she does anything. ]

Okay, a color. I'm going to drop my shields. [ Not entirely, not really, because there are memories brought up by this best kept behind heavy walls and under lock and key, but overall she's leaving her mind fairly open to him, not trying to hide. ] What color?

Black. [ Screw red. Fuck red, he likes red, red's a great color. Black was what everything faded to when he finally passed out. Black was all the shadows everywhere because it was a cave, and even allegorically caves are full of shadows. Black seems appropriate.

And at first her dropping her shields just makes him feel anxious, because he knows his own aren't awesome right now and he doesn't want to overwhelm her or anything by accident. But it's not so bad, after a few moments. She seems to be okay still, he's not knocked her on her ass or anything, so that's good. He nods, but it's small and quick, tentative but definitive regardless, somehow. ] Okay.

Okay. Black it is. [ Confirmation, firm enough that it's certain she knows exactly what he said and isn't going to forget it at all. She's moving slowly for a reason, painstaking as possible to ensure that at no point she forgets something or does something wrong and makes him worried.

And it's more than a little bit of input to handle from him, dizzying somewhere in the back of her head, but she can handle it. She has to right now, for him, so she'll be able to. She won't accept anything else. ] Are you ready?

[ That is a very long pause while he double and triple checks everything he can possibly think of, and that's totally what he's doing, it's not a stalling tactic at all, okay, because they've gotten to this point so far and it's not like he's going to back out now but he's not sure how he's going to proceed either.

But eventually, he does, because it's a pause not a stop, and he swallows ineffectively, because it feels like there's a rock in his throat now, it's already tight and they haven't even started. It's still another very slight nod though, either way, and a fairly quiet answer. ] Yeah.

[ It's okay, whether it's stalling or just being absolutely certain she can wait a little bit. She could wait for anything right now, just to be positive that he's going to be okay with this. ] Okay. Take a deep breath.

[ She waits until he's followed her instructions to raise one hand to his throat, just touching it for the moment because she wants the first moment to not be dangerous to him at all. Also she needs to shift her position, tucking her knees beneath her to give her a little bit more leverage so that she has the right angle to work with. ] I'm going to try something now, all right?

[ He does as she asks, because he's sort of letting some things run on autopilot and right now that happens to be one of those things, listening to her. He definitely tenses up a little when she moves into position, but it's not that bad, and everything she just did up until now is helping - he can still remember the feel of her hands in his, and that was comforting, so this. This isn't that bad, he's telling himself. This is still okay. It doesn't mean his response comes out that steady, but it does come out, which is more important. ] Okay.

[ There are blood vessels in the neck that lead to the brain. When compressed, while the rest of your body maintains it's flow of oxygen, the brain becomes convinced that you're not breathing because it's being starved of oxygen. But it's important not to do it for long at all, to try to keep it as danger free as possible. Not that it can ever be entirely danger free, but she has to be certain she's being careful. She breathes in and out, waits for his response and then presses her thumbs in against the vessels, starts counting in her head even as she keeps her mind close to his, trying to ensure that both physically and mentally he's doing all right. ]

[ It doesn't take that long for him to get that singular look on his face - although it's still somewhat tempered by everything she just did in preparation. It's a mitigated, milder version of the only version of 'scared' that his face is capable of making, but it's there nonetheless, because oh god, oh god, he can't breathe, he's not breathing even though he doesn't feel the normal signs associated with that, except that he does, and it's confusing in the discrepancy that he can't quite reconcile because he sort of can't decide if he's breathing or not. The breathing he is doing rapidly becomes very shallow, very fast, and his hands tighten into fists in his lap to keep him from grabbing hers and pulling them down. There's a reason they're doing this - he wants to stop having this problem, and allowing that problem to control the method of its own extinguishment completely defies the point. That doesn't necessarily mean that his side of their connection doesn't gape and waver and threaten a response even if he doesn't actually send one to her yet. ]

[ She really, really despises that look on his face. That she's putting it there is driving a significant part of her brain crazy even if it's by prior arrangement and to help him. She locks that portion of her brain down as much as possible, swallows heavily and keeps counting, staying close to every flicker of his mind, every moment that she might need to respond immediately until she hits the point it's no longer even somewhat safe and lets her fingers slide free, along his shoulders and then down back to his lap, covering his very loosely as she waits. ] Okay? [ Her voice a little tight. She may know she's doing this to help him but nothing she's feeling from him right now is designed to make her comfortable with this no matter how much she might think it's the right choice. ]

[ Don't worry, it'll probably be less intense when he closes his eyes, which is going to be about when she takes her hands away, barely registers that her hands are settling on his own because he's light-headed for a number of reasons now, and closing his eyes helps with the processing, limiting the input. It feels like he needs to gasp but he can't quite decide whether or not he wants to right now. ] Fine. I just - [ He just needs a moment. Just a little one. But it's not as though he's going to tell her he's not fine - it's not only the need to hide any vulnerabilities, but also that he knows this can't be easy no matter which side of it you're on, and he doesn't want to make it worse for either one. ] Just one.

[ That is a little better, and she closes her own eyes because his eyes closed means less attempt at communicating just through his expression and this is a little more tiring than she expected it to be. She nods and then remembers he can't see it, clears her throat and forces herself to speak. ] Don't worry. Whatever you need. [ Hopefully she's reassuring him enough. Her voice sounds weirdly tinny to her ears. But it's hopefully at least the start of progress. ]

How are you? [ He manages to squeeze through his still-too-tight-throat, because he doesn't want her to be hurt in the process of trying to make him a little less of the broken mess that he is. (Deep breath, in, and out. Now a little shallower, in and out. Get yourself back to normal patterns. Even if it's slow going.)

It's after he feels like he's relatively okay, like he's not that lightheaded anymore and he can look her in the face again that he opens his eyes and does just that. It's been quiet for a little while. She seems tired, he thinks, and he muffles their connection a little bit, because he can still transmit her a color without her getting the full force of things, he assumes. He's willing to try it, anyway, if it helps ensure that at least one of them remains functional. ]

I'll be fine. [ That doesn't sound terribly believable, she doesn't think. ] It's hard to do something that hurts you at all, but I can handle it if it's to help. [ Her fingers tighten over his, certain even if a little tense. It's not easy to do this, but it is worth it - or will be, she hopes. She's not going to screw this up now.

She can feel him looking after a moment, opens her eyes again and manages just a tiny bit of a smile for him, shakes her head. ] You don't need to cut anything off. I need to know.

[ Yeah, it didn't sound terribly believable, that's right. The rest of it does though, and together they become the whole of what he thinks is a brave face for his own benefit. He's damaged, traumatized, and a little light-headed right now, but he's never dumb.

That part though, he's less certain about. ] You don't need to know that strongly. This was... [ God, how do you describe it. The next is much softer. ] We need to do it again, don't we. Because otherwise it'll just add to before and whenever we try to come back I'll come up with some kind of excuse about working on something or bullshit. We need to do it again now, don't we. [ It's a peculiar tone there, resigned and worried and determined all at once, even though he's watching her as carefully as his current overload will allow him to do, because if it's too much for her at all, he'll just deal with it. ]

[ An instinct to defend opposed with your own actions is a really weird mix for an empath, especially when distress and anxiety is mixed in. It's partially a brave face and partially just an acceptance of the facts, and the facts are that this is necessary and if she doesn't handle it she'll hurt him more. She's become very good over the years at adapting to handle what must be handled because there is no other choice, and this is better.

She shakes her head a little vehemently. ] I need to know what's going on so I can monitor. It's important, please. [ She can't do this without all the information. It's too much of a risk, too much open area left where she could be damaging him. The strength is painful, but the lack of knowledge would be worse. And at that she closes her eyes for a moment, flicks them back open and nods slowly, holding his gaze. She may still look tired, but mostly her face is filled with a determined care, squaring herself up. It's amazing what a powerful motivator he can be. ] Yes. If you can handle it, we should.

[ For the most part, he's probably not really going to be that helpful with that; the more they continue, the more he's going to seem like he needs defending. On his own side of things, he's trying to quiet instincts telling him to look around, that he's clearly not aware enough of his surroundings because look, look what's happening. Running on full alert, even with forced calmness, isn't that different than running on slightly heightened senses, and there's an edge there between the two that he's trying not to breach, because right now he really doesn't want to actually start to become oversensitive. Right now that would be really not a great thing.

It's against his own opinion, and it's cautiously, when he starts to open it back up a little, very slowly and very wary of any change in her... feeling. He understands not wanting to hurt the person you care about - it's why he doesn't want to leave the connection so fully present in the first place, but half of the point of this is giving her the control, and as difficult as things are on both sides, he figures that the math adds up to 'try and make things easier at all' in the long run.

That doesn't mean there aren't a couple of deep breaths in the meantime though. ] Yeah. At least, I can - probably at least one more. Probably.

[ It's okay, she'll figure out how to handle it. She's not particularly expecting help from him in this area - the logical results of them doing this are that in the short term it's not going to seem much like she's helping him at all. She'll have to overrule that on her self, and she can, but him in distress still pulls on her instincts.

But she breathes out in relief when he opens back up, closes her eyes for a moment to readjust to being able to feel it all and yes it's a little overwhelming and it hurts, to an extent, but she needs to know or she can't do this, can't believe that she's doing it right even a little. She gives what little extra she has to trying to smooth down any attempt on his senses to revolt, lifts her hands to his face to smooth her thumbs across his cheeks. ]

Okay. Tell me when.

[ He does calm down a little more when he feels her smoothing things down, because okay, that's right, that's one of the other things that make this much safer. He doesn't need to worry about that, doesn't need to worry about what happens when they realize that's what's happening, the fallout of either.

He tenses basically right back up again when she starts to move her hands, but it's stifled, cut short enough to appreciate the warmth of her hands on his face, the feel of her nearby for this, the tangible anchoring of her physical presence between her hands and the way she dips the bed towards her just a little bit by sitting on the mattress.

One more deep breath, a sniff, exhaling through his nose faster than is actually necessary. ] I'm good.

this is true

/pets forever

/keeps purring

/falls asleep on

we can just say we've been sleeping for the last... five days.

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