I had an extremely freeing moment at work today. I very much understand, to a degree, it was likely driven by grief, but I still felt of sound mind in the moment, just less filtered, I guess. I was speaking to a director who was asking me how the recording function worked on our meeting software. I realized in that moment I just couldn't be bothered to give a shit about the issue. Just Google it..shesh! It was like my brain overloaded because too many words were used to describe the issue and her request for help. I apologized to her for my "less than pleasant attitude at the moment" and stated that "I just couldn't seem to make myself care about this shit". I have given a majority of my life to this role, and even when I can't stop caring, the company will never care about me. I am seeing this more than ever before with how they are handling the passing of my friend and teammate. I felt like that guy who gets hypnotized to stop stressing out about his job in the movie Office Space and just lets loose with 'The Bobs'. The director was actually kind about it. She chuckled and agreed it was ridiculous. I still helped her but let her know I was pretty much done with everything the company has been putting us through.
I am always kind. I am always on call, always. I have always asked others how I can help them and am striving always to continue learning new skills for the benefit of my employer (and myself since they are transferable). I basically sleep with my phone in hand, ready to sit up and deal with any issue that might come up. My other teammate and friend, bless her heart, knows I have a sleeping disorder, and that you just have to keep hitting redial till I come around. Any disaster (literal and figurative), any crazy issue that comes up... call Kitty, she will answer..she will know what to do..
I received such a call on new years eve day when I was taking a midday nap. My manager called and explained the issue. I reminded him we were in a tables freeze and we couldn't proceed. He then explained he understood, and that is why he was calling me, so we could escalate up to VP level for approval to make changes during a freeze. And my immediate unfiltered response was "are we really doing this??". I laughed it off and apologized, stating he caught me asleep on my DAY OFF.
He has always been kind and supportive. Along with the nice director lady, i let loose on today. But damn, I just can't seem to care about this shit anymore. I'm in it for the greater good, but I'm going to be less stressed and measured in the correctness of my responses. Like the sayings about being stupid.. that it should hurt, and if you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. Buckle up peeps...it's about to get wild.
I did tell my manager the other day that "when he looks back on this time, to please give me grace and to forgive the crazy things I may have said, just blaming it on a temporary lapse in sanity". It just feels so good to give it straight, no bullshit, no pulling punches. It is very liberating! I just have to be careful that I don't find myself liberated from my job altogether.
I have moments where I am just blindsided by a wave of sadness, and all I can do is cry. It is still grief for the death of my friend, but now I find myself contemplating so many questions and struggles regarding life and death. Apparently, i was living my life blissfully ignorant and as if death didn't exist. It is overwhelming when it happens, so I sit in my car or hide in the bathroom and do the ugly cry. I have a daughter, and I don't want her to see me always so broken. She knows I am sad and I miss my friend very much. But I don't want her to see how broken I feel. And I am trying not to slip down into overwhelming and paralyzing fear and anxiety. I am looking for a professional to talk to but it is hard not to put myself second with us being overwhelmed still at work with trying to maintain without my mentor and with my responsibilities as a mother. I guess all these personal things I type here are just cathartic and a reminder to myself when I look back. Sorry if that isn't how this place works.
Today, I received a frantic call from my teammate telling me our other teammate/friend had died. I have known this person for over 20 years. She helped shape me into the person I am today. She was my mentor and friend. I have learned so much in life from her both professionally and personally. My first words were, "No, she can't die. She is the person who tells death to f*** off." She was my rock. But now I have the impossible task of trying to keep things at work going while I mourn her as a friend. I am still in shock. I seriously thought she was unstoppable. I have been trying to keep busy, but every thought I have goes back to her. I can still hear her voice. She was an amazing person, and I don't know how we will be able to keep going without her.
While heading to the office today, I fell down near the sidewalk as I was crossing the street. I dropped my water spilling it all over as I obliterated the cup with my body weight.
It wasn't so much the embarrassment of what happened, or the shock that the person near me kept going and walked AROUND me... it was the realization that falling down as you get older is super fucking painful. I went down HARD and torn up my knee in the process.
I laid there for a moment before collecting myself and making it the remaining blocks as I bled through my pant leg...
I am definitely at a low point. Listening to an asmr video of a person talking soothingly. Just so I can hear someone say the words, "Everything will be okay." And I didn't expect the amount of tears in response to them asking me, "Friend, are you okay?".
141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Joint Mission
Author's Notes: This was supposed to be short but I had an epiphany after I finished
Warnings: MDNI, Angst
This was a standard joint mission. Two teams, one task, in and out, and it's done. So why did John Price feel so nervous?
The mission seemed pretty straightforward and the new guys seemed formidable. Not at the same caliber as the 141, but they're getting there.
Really, everything looks fine, so why is he nervous?
But it didn't matter as he pushes his concern to the side as he greets the team of three on the tarmac. After some quick introductions, he guides the trio to the conference room where the rest of his team waits.
As they got closer, John felt his heart beating faster and faster. What was going on with him?
And he wasn't the only one as Johnny also had a bad feeling about this mission. However, unlike his captain, he actually voiced his concerns out loud.
"And why were we paired up with these guys again?" the Scotsman asks for the 5th time today. Ghost glares at him while Kyle groans. Gaz shoots you a quick glance to see if that had caught your attention. It didn't.
"I mean, why couldn't we get Farah and Alex to help us on this or even Los Vaqueros?" Soap adds.
"Laswell's orders," Kyle grunts out.
Honestly, the fellow Sergeant wasn't sure what the concern was. He could tell Price was also feeling something, but what? Laswell has never led them astray so this should turn out fine, right? The last time Laswell sent someone, things started out perfectly. As long as the 141 can act right, then things should go swimmingly.
Well, after first introductions, Kyle realizes that they're not the ones that need to act right. It's the new guys. Gaz caught the extra attention you got from the three.
"Sergeant Keegan P. Russ, at your service."
"Sergeant Kim Hong-jin, but you can call me Horangi."
"Lieutenant Nikto."
That last one would not have been so bad if you weren't the only one who got a handshake from the Russian.
Kyle knew he wasn't the only one to notice as he caught Ghost clenching his fist.
And Ghost was not going to let you go without a fight.
"Isn't there supposed to be four of you? Where's your captain?" he asks. Ghost stands tall and stares them down.
The three don't react as they take a seat at the table. It isn't until the three have settled in their seats that one of them speaks up.
"Our Captain already talked to yours so don't worry about it," Keegan replies. He stares back at Ghost, clearly not intimidated by the British Lieutenant.
"Great, so we're stuck with a Yankee, a gambling addict, and a commie," Ghost groans out.
"That's enough," you bark out. You shoot an incredulous look at the Lieutenant who immediately buckles down. You order everyone to take a seat so you can start your presentation. "The faster we get this done, the faster I can get back to work and you guys can continue whatever this is," you chastise.
The new team immediately voices their agreement which made Ghost's blood boil.
As you go over the details of the mission, Price looks around the room and catches the way the three new soldiers stared at you. Something in their eyes didn't sit right with him. It looked way too familiar, it almost reminded him of his bo... oh hell no.
He calls out your name and says, "you know what, I can take it from here." He pushes his chair out and places his hands on his knees, getting ready to stand up. However, before he can even get up, you immediately speak up.
"What do you think you're doing?" You ask. You're clearly not impressed.
Price feels the energy in the room shift. He looks at you sheepishly and repeats himself. "I can finish it from here."
You scoff. "Captain Price," you slowly say, "what's my position here?"
"The 141's Intelligence Operative."
"Close, the 141's temporary Intelligence Operative," you correct him. John feels his heart clench. You fail to notice his heartbreak and continue, "and what's my role as the Intelligence Operative?"
"Deal with anything and everything that has to do with intelligence. I think I got it, I'm--"
"No, no, no. I'm not done," you bite back. You're obviously annoyed. It seemed like you were annoyed most days here. "And this presentation, what is it about?"
"Intelligence surrounding our newest mission," John grumbles out.
"Okay, okay. So, if this presentation has to do with intelligence, who should do it?" You stare at him, eyes wide, waiting for an answer.
Horangi raises his hand which catches you off guard. "Yes, Sergeant Kim." Now you're sheepish, embarrassed that the new guys had to see you like this.
"Please, call me Horangi," he assures you. Much to John's dismay, that seemed to ease your concerns. "If I may, I think the answer that you're looking for and your captain forgot is that you should be doing this presentation, and I completely agree." Despite your straight face, your eyes glowed with content. You thanked Sergeant Kim and turned your attention back to Price.
"Is that okay with you Captain? May I continue?"
John just nods, feeling absolutely embarrassed and ashamed with himself. What the fuck was he thinking?
As you continue with your presentation, the 141 oscillate their attention from you to the new guys. Ghost catches the gentle look in Nikto's eyes. Johnny recognizes the look of admiration on the Keegan's face and Kyle notices the excitement in Horangi's eyes. And Price finally understands the root of his worries as he realizes that this new task force is looking at you the exact same way that you used to look at them.
It seemed like the one thing that the boys were avoiding could very much happen now and it would all be their fault.
The way my brain is wired reminds me of the movie 50 First Dates. I go to sleep and start the next day not remembering all the shit that happened the previous day. At least the things that are accompanied by heavy or strong emotions. I think I need to start writing notes to myself or recording things so I can remember them the next day and actually work towards solving the issue versus forgetting it and thinking all is right in the world. And then when things get bad again (which they do when you don't address the issue and try to fix it), my brain gets overwhelmed and just melts. Then it's like I just sit and exist for a while till I pass out then wake to start a new day with no issues other than a lingering headache and swollen eyes from crying myself to sleep. I just kick into autopilot and keep things going for everyone.
It is the worst cycle to be in and is debilitating when times get tough which causes stress that brings out strong emotions from everyone.
I think my brain is broken. And I'm just so sad and numb again. I need to remember to read this post tomorrow. And know this is not okay, it won't go away, and something needs to change.
there has been civil unrest in the kingdom, prompting the king and your father to hire a knight to protect you. thankfully it is a knight you already know.
tw: fem reader, plus size reader, mentions of body image, not proofread
wc: 1.8k
masterlist
—
“The king insisted upon having a knight guard you,” your father said, hands clasped behind his back as he faced you.
He stood in front of the large windows overlooking the courtyard and the rose gardens. Your father had been appointed to the King’s Counsel, moving himself and you to the royal palace while your mother stayed behind to handle the estate and your sister’s wedding to Ser Garrick.
You were brought along to the palace with the hope that it would make finding a husband easier. Of course it was quite the same as at home, just the competition broadened from just your sister to the entirety of the other women at court. You were still too soft around the edges while the other women were willowy and slight in their gowns.
It was hard to hold a candle to them.
“A knight?” You were hardly important enough to warrant a knight being hired to keep track of you. Perhaps a City Guard member would make more sense, but a knight was far too grand.
The king was being cautious. There had been a few attacks on members of the castle as of late—a lord on the counsel was roughed up outside of a pleasure house, and a few servants had been robbed of their coin for their daily shopping. There had been plenty of unrest in the kingdom after the death of the queen, the poor becoming poorer as the king scrambled for some semblance of control.
Your father gave you a look, silencing your next protest as you closed your mouth. Living in the palace already made you feel like a bug caught in a jar, eyes constantly scrutinizing your every move… every word. A personal knight would only make that worse, a shadow to follow you for every moment of every day.
“He has already been selected, so save your arguments.” Your eyebrows lifted, hands folded primly in your lap as you waited for your father to continue. The high-backed seat you were in was uncomfortable, arm rests digging into the plush of your things as you crossed your legs at the ankle.
He stopped at his desk and leaned forward to rest his palms on it. There was a moment of contemplation, his lips pursing like he was going to speak. You watched him look up at the large double doors across the room.
“You may enter,” your father called.
The heavy door creaked as it opened, your whole body twisted so you could get a proper view of who entered. The height of his shoulder against the door told you the knight was massive before he even stepped inside fully. The armor looked new, shiny and polished and dent-free—likely freshly gifted from the king himself.
Then rather than a face, a mask with two crude holes cut for eyes in the black fabric came into view above his bulk. Your heart started to race, your gaze meeting Ser Kilgore’s for a brief moment as he clasped his hands behind him and looked down at the stone floor.
“Ser Kilgore has already taken the oath to be your sworn protector,” your father said as you stood. The top of your head hardly reached Ser Kilgore’s shoulder, your eyes widening as you turned to face him.
He had not seemed so massive from the stands at the tourney.
“He will be with you from sun up to sun down until the king deems it safe enough for him to be dismissed.” You still balked at the knight, wondering if he had volunteered or been chosen. Of all the men in the kingdom, your father and the king had selected him. You brought the stuffed bear with you from home, it sat on the window sill in your chambers.
You remembered yourself after a beat of silence. “Thank you, Ser,” you breathed, curtsying even though he was not looking at you.
He let out a grunt of acknowledgement, still as silent as he was at the tourney. You wondered what his voice sounded like as he picked his head up. His blue eyes were piercing, crisp like a stream in winter. You felt pinned in place by his stare, swallowing thickly before averting your own eyes.
Your father shifting some papers on his desk reminded you of his presence.
“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” you asked your father, looking at him over your shoulder. He dismissed you with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand, turning his attention to the thick ledgers on his writing desk.
Ser Kilgore opened the door for you, following you into the hall at a few paces behind.
You had no idea what to do with the shadow that loomed over you all day. Ser Kilgore lingered at the edges of rooms and just outside doorways, silent and stoic. He never removed the covering over his face, never spoke. He only observed.
It made you realize just how boring your days were. You spent time with the other noble ladies at court—mostly the daughters of lords and the younger princesses—embroidering and having tea in the garden and gossiping with thinly veiled turns of speech.
Nothing you did warranted his constant protection, that was certain.
Part of you wanted to force him to speak to you–wanted to demand that he answer your questions. He conversed with no one, only nodding or shaking his head with other knights when they stood shoulder to shoulder.
Perhaps he lost his voice in an accident, you imagined gruesome images of Ser Kilgore surviving getting his throat slashed and vocal cords cut. You heard a story of a knight who had his throat crushed by a horse and still lived—could that be your knight?
Your knight. What an odd phrase.
His head was always covered, you had no clue what lingered beneath. But you were certainly curious.
Evening soon fell, your knight dutifully escorting you to your chambers. You walked next to him, his long stride shortened to match yours. It had taken you most of the afternoon to convince him to stop walking a few paces behind like a shadow. At least at your side you could pretend he was a companion rather than a sworn sword.
“Does this assignment bore you?” you finally asked, glancing up at him. It would bore you–watching a noble woman do nothing aside from chatter amongst other women and embroider handkerchiefs and walk the gardens all day seemed miserable.
Ser Kilgore shook his head, his light eyes cutting down to meet your questioning gaze. His eyes were the only part of him not covered: his blonde eyelashes were long and curly, his irises shining like aquamarines, the slivers of pale skin visible against the frayed fabric seemed delicate–there were a few thin edges of scars peeking around the fabric.
How desperately you wanted to pull the hood from his face and see the man underneath. You had been thinking about him ever since the tourney, fantasizing about what he sounded like, what he looked like beneath all of his armor.
You narrowed your eyes at his silent response, head cocking to one side as you inspected him. “Can you speak?” It might have been a rude thing to ask–your mother always informed you that you were far too brash for a respectable noble lady.
It never stopped you before.
He huffed softly–a laugh, you guessed. His eyes creased at the outer corners like he was smiling.
Another nod. You only ever earned yourself nods and head shakes.
“I have not seen you speak to another person all day.” It sounded accusatory rather than a simple observation. Well, you were accusing him. If he could speak, why would he choose silence? You resisted the urge to cross your arms over your chest like a petulant child.
Ser Kilgore shrugged his broad shoulders, still smiling beneath the mask.
You could scream with your frustration.
“Considering that we will be spending the majority of our time together from now on, I would appreciate it if you at least tried to speak with me,” you said, sounding more entitled than you intended to. “Existing in this castle is lonely—I never know who is truly my friend or friend or is simply trying to spy on my family—I would like to have someone to trust.”
Ser Kilgore looked at you for longer this time, head tilted down to take you in properly. You still followed the maze of hallways to your chambers, each one the same: braziers lining the walls and illuminating the tapestries and paintings hung up, sometimes there was the odd statue. The polished stone floor echoed your footsteps, the hallway otherwise quiet.
He did not shake his head in either direction: no affirmation or denial of your statement. Just a curious gaze taking in your expressions.
He stopped outside the polished wooden doors leading to your chambers, settling with his arms behind his back as he nodded for you to enter. His armor rattled a bit as he moved, the chainmail on his arms catching the light of the braziers lining the walls and throwing shadows across the stone.
“Goodnight, Ser Kilgore,” you finally huffed, slipping between him and the door. You knew you were being petulant like a child that did not get her way. You pouted anyways, lips pulling into a sort of frown.
The was heavy to pull open, forcing you to put your whole weight into it. Ser Kilgore reached over you, a hand curling around the side of the door and opening it for you.
“Goodnight, my lady,” he responded, surprising you with his deep, accented tone. He sounded like he was from one of the eastern territories. Each vowel was clipped, consonants harsh. “If we are to be friends, call me König.”
You gaped at the sudden sound of his voice, stuck halfway inside the doorway. It was simple enough to tell that he was smiling that time, mirth shining in his eyes as he looked down at you.
A million questions to ask him flooded your mind. It felt like you had to keep him talking now that he spoke, part of you worrying that this opportunity would not occur again. You wanted to ask him why he picked you at the tourney—it had bothered you for months.
“My lady, we have already started heating water for your bath,” your maid Agatha said, drawing your attention. You glanced away from him for a moment, seeing her filling a wooden tub near the hearth with pails of water.
König nodded for you to go in, surveying the slice of the room he could see from the partially open door. The stuffed bear he gave you was visible, set atop a book on the window sill. He stared at it for a moment before redirecting his gaze back to you. You hesitated another moment before taking a step from where you had been rooted moments before.
“Goodnight, König,” you amended, earning a huff of laughter and a nod of acknowledgment as he allowed the door to swing closed behind you.
Have been sick lately. If you are looking for something to knock you out and erase time itself, I recommend Delsum nighttime cough syrup. I am still trying to get oriented and figure out what all happened over the last 15 hours. Totally didn't realize I had conference calls this morning and my manager had to request my presence, to which I was horrified. Thank goodness I just had to smile and nod because my brain is still mush. But I don't feel as sick anymore so that's good I guess.
I experienced words this evening that truly felt like a knife to the heart. I always thought it was just an exaggeration, some poetic saying for heartache. But, I felt every bit of it and it took my breath away. It was like an out of body experience. And I think I'm still trying to find my way back.
Very first project call at the absolute START of my day (haven't had coffee or even eaten), and a grown man says some shit attitude comment to me... the same which I recall my CHILD saying to me the other day. You are a grown man!!
Also, I am learning more about my recently diagnosed ADHD which includes learning about emotional dysregulation. Fun!
I am beginning to realize my mental health is worse than I thought. I guess I was doing such a good job at hiding it that I was able to fool even myself.
Can someone help me please? I have been looking forever for the story where Captain John Price rejects a flirtatious member of his task force in front of a general and then the task force member wants a transfer. I'm been feeling down and that story always comes to my mind when I'm feeling sad. The words he uses to shoot them down are just heart stopping. I would be most appreciative if someone could help!! Also I would like relief from my hyperfocused hunt for this story. I need a break....
I am still looking... at this point, I'm more excited to find it so my fixation can end. I feel like I have been doom scrolling through fanfiction for days... Of course, I still want to read the story!!
Additional information: I came across it here when someone sent an ask looking for said story. Whoever answered I think provided the link in the comments and the person who reblogged it mentioned loving when the tumblr community comes together. I hope this jogs someone's memory!
Can someone help me please? I have been looking forever for the story where Captain John Price rejects a flirtatious member of his task force in front of a general and then the task force member wants a transfer. I'm been feeling down and that story always comes to my mind when I'm feeling sad. The words he uses to shoot them down are just heart stopping. I would be most appreciative if someone could help!! Also I would like relief from my hyperfocused hunt for this story. I need a break....
I am still looking... at this point, I'm more excited to find it so my fixation can end. I feel like I have been doom scrolling through fanfiction for days... Of course, I still want to read the story!!
Can someone help me please? I have been looking forever for the story where Captain John Price rejects a flirtatious member of his task force in front of a general and then the task force member wants a transfer. I'm been feeling down and that story always comes to my mind when I'm feeling sad. The words he uses to shoot them down are just heart stopping. I would be most appreciative if someone could help!! Also I would like relief from my hyperfocused hunt for this story. I need a break....
romaincrisis
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
annaxmalina
