Ok how to do shit. Like, start doing tasks and keep doing them. I don't want neurotypical advice, it doesn't work, planners don't work, exercising is a task by itself, etc. It's not a social media issue, I'm just starring at a fucking wall. And then even if I manage to start doing something, there's ~80% chance that I'll abandon it during the first 10 minutes. Includes everything, hobbies, eating, low effort tasks (like watching a show) etc. Did anyone have the same/similar issue and got better? Genuinely, if anyone has any advice, please share.
Again, no planners, no exercise, no ask other people for help, no put out distractions, no change environment (all of that didn't work/is not possible for me) and it includes not only starting but keeping doing the thing. Please please please I'll take anything
96 notes
·
View notes
Is there like a condition for everything?
Like if I told you guys that my pinky toenails were very hard to cut off/maintain, would someone tell me that I’m likely suffering from something?
6 notes
·
View notes
Hey this is a tipsy cry for help, I have spiders in my car, I’ve found spiders on me at work, I’ve found two spiders crawling on me in someone else’s car on two separate occasions (and they’d never seen spiders before or since), why do spiders come for me? Am I gross, am I doing something? I’d like to think I’m pretty clean
1 note
·
View note
A faint knock on the front door of your apartment echos through the hallway and to your bedroom, but you don’t bother to get up. They’ll think you’re not here and leave eventually. The lights are off and don’t give off any indication that you’re home.
They knock again, this time a little firmer.
You roll over in bed, tucking your head under the covers to block out the sound. Suddenly, the click of the lock and door creaking open fill the air - he’s here.
“Peach?” Bakugo calls from the living room, feet pattering anxiously around your apartment in search of you. “You here?”
It kills you not to answer him, but there’s no way in hell you want him to see you like this, disheveled and miserable. Maybe if you stay still, you can trick him into thinking you’re not hiding away from the world and aren’t home.
“Ya haven’t answered my calls in three days,” he says aloud as his footsteps approach your bedroom. “Your girlfriends, too. Called ‘em this mornin’ looking for you.”
You’re busted, there’s no running from Katsuki Bakugo. He’s not stupid or naive. Why did you think you could hide from him?
Bakugo lets out a sigh of relief when he sees your body under the covers in the dark. Carefully, he makes his way to your bed and sits on the edge.
“There you are,” he says quietly, nowhere near his normal volume. There’s no bite to his words, only genuine concern. “You okay, sweetheart?”
Ha - no. Not in the slightest.
The blanket shifts a bit when you curl further into yourself. Bakugo reaches for the hem of the comforter, tugging it off of you in one motion. That’s when it sinks in and he understands the situation, maybe a little too well.
“I get it. Y’don’t wanna be seen as weak,” he speaks, both reflectively and to you. “But bein’ down doesn’t mean you’re weak, you’re human, peaches. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with being sad.”
“You didn’t have to come,” you muffle into the pillow, hiding your face from him. “I’ll be fine.”
“Never said you wouldn’t be. Doesn’t mean I can’t be here or worry about your ass.”
Let him in, he obviously wants to help. Just…let him in. Why’s it so hard?
“I don’t…” you trail off, unable to tell him you don’t need his help. Finally, you sit up to face him, hair tangled over your shoulders and t-shirt drooping from your collarbone. “I don’t want to scare you away.”
Bakugo laughs. “Scare me? Gonna have to try a lot harder than that. What kinda hero would I be if I let ya rot away in bed?” He scoops you into his arms and squeezes you firmly. “Let me take care of you when you’re not feelin’ up to it.”
1K notes
·
View notes
"Nightwing."
Dick froze halfway across a rooftop, the lights and gunshots of Bludhaven disappearing in an instant. A scowl flashed across his face, teeth clenched and bared, before he forced it back. His face smoothed back out and his voice took on a pleasant, amused tone. "Slade. How did you get this frequency?"
"Nevermind that," Slade scolded. "We have more important things that need discussing, and information to be revealed."
"Is this about Constantinople?" He asked with a lilt, propping one hand on his hip. "Because I thought I told you, those geese totally counted as villains and deserved arrest--"
"I found a child vigilante. What do I do with it?"
"Ex-cuse me?" His fist clenched. "Is this a trick question?"
"No."
"What do you mean, 'what do I do with it?' You know what to do with it; you become its nemisis when their 15 and haunted them for the next decade." His voice was thinly-veiled rage. He couldn't stop himself from shaking. That poor kid, Slade has his sights set on them. He's going to torture that kid, or worse, and now I have to track Slade's trail back to wherever he found this kid--
"I can't do that! He's only eight years old!"
"What?"
"There's this eight year old meta brat running around a Mid-West town in his pajamas while adults shoot at him. There isn't a mentor in sight, and one of the kid's rogues has threatened to skin him. What. Do. I. Do?"
5K notes
·
View notes