#“hey remember this thing that makes you start dissociating immediately”

[captainschaos]

not to vent post on tumblr dot com after a stint of weird activity but does anyone else find it so fucking weird that we live in an era of simultaneously having a whole joke format about how suicide jokes are bad but also watching kys jokes SKYROCKET. like idk if this is just a thing I hadn't noticed before and I'm the issue but

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

[acaciusbride]

Breathe Through It (Joel Miller x Reader)

Summary: you have a panic attack. Joel helps.

CWs: Descriptions of mental health conditions (namely PTSD, but can be read as any anxiety based disorder with panic attacks) / graphic description of a panic attack / some adult language/ references to past trauma (nothing explicitly described but inferred).

Notes: This is entirely self indulgent, I have pretty severe PTSD and this is the coping mechanism of the day. Implied to be F!Reader but it can be read as gender neutral.

Word Count: 1.1k

Tag List: @joelsgirl & @mydailyhyperfixations

You don't feel it happen until it does. You've heard that for some people, their panic attacks build up, like the world's shittiest tidal wave, steadily looming over them.

Yours aren't like that. You'll be fine one minute, then something will trigger it. A sound. A place. A thought. Someone with a similar sounding name. A nightmare.

You get less than ten seconds warning, if you're lucky, before it hits you like a tonne of bricks and you freeze. It doesn't matter where you are, what you're doing, your chest constricts and you get tunnel vision. It's like you're a spectator in your own body, dissociated so hard you can't tell left from right.

The worst thing is when you lose your ability to speak. It doesn't happen every time, but when it does it's like someone's squeezing sand down your throat, completely taking away your ability to ask for help. As if you even could. You hate drawing attention to yourself at the best of times, let alone when you're so vulnerable.

Which is why it's annoyingly inconvenient that this is happening now. You haven't exactly been hiding your panic attacks from Joel, but you haven't directly talked about it with him. You know he has his own problems, far more trauma than he lets on. You know it isn't a competition, but you don't want to burden him with your anxiety.

Deep down, you know that it wouldn't be a burden. That he loves you, but it's hard to remember that when trauma brain is the one at the wheel.

You're not sure what it is this time. You're just walking through town with him, heading home after a drink, after a shift on the guard tower together, when someone, of all things, laughs. The laugh isn't quite right, but it sounds close enough that you freeze up, breath catching in your throat. Fuck, you're maybe ten feet from home. Why now?

Joel gets maybe two steps ahead of you before he realises you're no longer keeping pace, turns to say something, maybe crack a joke about you being a lightweight, but the comment dies on his lips the moment he sees your expression.

Most people think you just space out. Think it's a personality quirk or just a thing that you do. Joel knows better. He knows better because Ellie's described what he looks like when he has a panic attack, recognises when he's about to have one these days.

So it's immediately fucking clear as day to him what's happening.

He doesn't bother asking what's set it off; knows that there isn't always a clear answer, and that even asking, reminding you of the trigger, could just make it worse.

Joel hates being touched when he's having an episode of his own. Knows it triggers his fight response, that he'll start swinging. He doesn't think that will apply to you, but he doesn't know for certain, and that's all that keeps him from wrapping his arms tight around you.

Instead, he takes you by the hand, leads you the last few steps to the house, closes the door behind you, flips the light on.

"'S okay. Look, we're good. Door's closed. Nobody's coming after us."

You can barely hear him, heart pounding in your ears, breaths coming out ragged like you've just run a marathon.

"Hey. Hey. If you can, look at me, okay?"

He doesn't sound angry, or tired, and it's not a demand. This voice is the one he uses when Ellie's sick, or you're sick, or when he's reassuring one of the kids in town that he's not remotely mad that they stole an extra slice of pie when he was meant to be on food watch duty.

Joel is always soft spoken, but this is different. It makes you feel safe, not enough to pull you out of it, because that's not how it works, but safe enough to look at him, to focus as best you can on the dark depths of his eyes.

"There you are." He goes to let go of your hand but you cling on to him, slump against his chest, needing the warmth and solidness of him to ground you.

That's all the permission he needs, wrapping his arms tight around you.

"I've got you. You're safe, I promise."

You know that. Deep down, you know that the people who hurt you are far away. That they'll never touch you, control you, hurt you, ever again. You know that you're safe here, in this house, with Joel.

He rubs soothing circles on your back, kisses the top of your head, relieved when you start breathing properly again, coming down from the adrenaline.

"You don't need to hide these from me, darlin', I know how they feel."

"That's why I didn't want you to deal with it." You manage to get out; your throat is dry as hell, the guilt already forming.

"Deal with it? What, like it's a big issue? I'd rather be able to help. That's what I'm here for. We do this together, remember?"

"But it's..."

"Nothing. Don't you dare call yourself a burden or anything similar. You've been through so much. Ain't a competition. But you've gotta let me in, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" You hate how small your voice is, how distant you still feel. Even if the worst is over, you'll still feel horrible for a few more hours, trapped by your own thoughts.

"I promise. Breathe through it, baby. I'm not going anywhere. We can stay here all night if it helps you feel safe."

You exhale. You do feel safer, standing there with his arms locked around you.

"Will it always be like this?" You hate yourself for asking, but you know he's been dealing with these a lot longer than you have.

"Yes and no," Joel says finally. "You learn to sit with them. They don't suck any less, they're still fuckin' horrible, but you get your support, and you'll learn to sit with them."

You nod against his chest, finally feeling a little better. At least better enough that it doesn't feel like your limbs are full of cement.

"What can I do to help?"

You consider for a minute. "Can we have coffee? Maybe take a shower?"

You always feel a cold sweat come over you after the worst of it passes. Joel nods, gives you one last reassuring squeeze.

"Course we can. Whatever you need, darlin', I'm always gonna be here for you."

He lets go of you to move to the kitchen, but keeps hold of your hand, knows without asking that you still need the reassurance of touch.

"Hey, Joel?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I love you."

"Love you too, baby. C'mon, let me take care of you."

It's not a miracle cure. No such thing exists, after all, but having someone who loves you so much, who you know will support you through it? It makes all the difference in the world.

[thrashkink-coven]

Hey there! I've been looking on Tumblr for someone who is experienced in ritual work with deities and isn't exclusive to Greek or Norse gods/goddesses. I've been practicing for a bit less than 3 years and I'm quite new to Demonolatry, and I don't know anyone who shares knowledge or experience on it, so I wanted to reach out for advice to someone who knows their craft. And I saw that you work with Lucifer so I was hoping you'd know about it?

I recently did a ritual (I practice traditional Demonolatry) and while I meditated I fell into a sudden trance. I've done meditation and rituals before, but this was completely new and I have never experienced this. I suddenly got scared because I didn't know what was happening and my body was moving like on it's own. Or maybe I imagined that?

I wanted to ask if this is normal, if you've ever experienced something like that? Does deep trance happen during ritual? Because I'm a bit uneasy about it and don't know how to go from here since there was a lot of energy that I didn't know where it came from and I just rushed out of the ritual. Do you have any advice or know someone who could help me? Thanks in advance.

Hi, yes! This has definitely happened to me before, most prominently when I was first really getting into my practice with Archangels. What I believe may have happened is that you had your first major "breakthrough" which is naturally unnerving because its so unnatural.

I've made a post in the past about "third eye opening techniques," and mentioned that once you start really falling into your first trance, your brain will usually snap you out of it. You'll get butterflies or feel like you're falling, and your brain will automatically make you "wake up". It may force a thought if only to make sure you can still think because your mind is so abnormally quiet; the only other time you enter this kind of "wavelength" is when you are in deep sleep, or dying. The brain is naturally averted to these things. However, in the right environment, when things align in a peculiar way, you may be more predisposed to accepting a trance. This happens most often to me when I'm seriously focused on meditating on a sigil or enn to the point where I become completely consumed with my intention of channeling a deity or spirt. This is very hard to describe with words, but you feel as though everything has stopped, you're almost a part of the environment whilst simultaneously not being "there". You're inside your body but you're not, and everything is quiet and connected.

What this really is, is a minor ego death. People who take psychedelics probably empathize easily with this feeling. Once you start learning how to counteract the natural abortive instinct, you will enter a trance like state.

The very first time I truly experienced this was with Archangel Jophiel, who has been a massive guide to me in my craft in regards to dealing with my disbelief and skepticism. I remember falling into a deep trance, in which I felt like I was no longer even in my body, but I could feel myself rising from a laying to sitting position, and when Jophiel ordered me to, I extended my hand out to him without controlling it. I immediately snapped out of it, freaked out and questioned my experience for days afterwards.

This isn't actually all that uncommon, especially in regards to deity work, mediumship and necromancy. Automatic writing for example, is a form of divination in which practitioners allow a deity or spirit to move their hand when holding a pencil. The resulting words or drawing are then interpreted by the practitioner when they have returned from the trance state.

These things can happen on accident, but its important that it's not happening unintentionally often, as this can result in developing a dissociative disorder. Grounding exercises that are typically used for things like anxiety and panic attacks can actually help very much with staying planted after a trance or an astral journey.

If you're interested in things like divination, mediumship or astral projection then practicing this skill could be very useful to you. It is a very helpful avenue for me when communicating with Lucifer. However if the idea makes you uncomfortable or distressed, using sensory tools and textures during meditation can help greatly in remaining connected to your body even while in states of deep focus. This experience is usually freaky to anyone who has it, so I wouldn't worry about it too much.

One book that I read that helped me really understand this phenomenon was "The Book of Spirit Communications" by Raymond Buckland. It speaks about the history of Mediumship as well as some techniques to practice entering trance states.

[archivalofsins]

In a funnier turn of events after getting that Mikoto post out I am feeling more comfortable discussing his character. It was really bugging me that I was perceiving the fandom as an unsafe space to discuss plurality on a two alter system basis. It never seemed appropriate to gush about it given the things I'd been shown being said.

Yet, I was really happy with Double and the Neoplasm voice drama. Because it showed how diverse dissociative identity disorder can be with just two alters. Instead of just doing the same old hi I'm the totally good one and I'd never hurt a fly and I'm sin incarnate sometimes I just do bad shit for the lols you know.

The thing that most media does when discussing that presentation. I don't know how to really tackle my own feelings on it. It's like most my life I grew up seeing it represented as oh no, the evil one is out. As though the person had been possessed almost. So, it was very refreshing to see it be like, "Oh well, they're both just people. No one is as simple as just good or bad. They both have a variety of behavior."

It's something that should by now rightfully be expected when it comes to that sort of representation of it. Yet when it comes to two people always focus on the duality. The light and the dark the good and the evil. They try to separate all nice in neat like that without really focusing on the individuals. So, I was ultimately really pleased by Milgram. Though it could be because I'm more on the older side or just I gave up on looking for good representation and started avoiding anything thar covered it in middle school.

Honestly, I still avoid things that deal with it outside of Milgram. Simply out of habit of thinking, man, is it gonna be this shit again? How do I know it's not that shit again? Oh well, you gotta watch it, of course. I'm not doing that. I don't trust it. Yet with Double, there were just so many great things about it that really made me go.

Yeah, they get it. This is actually great. I couod harp on the lyrics all day.

Like favorite lines were,

1. That'd be good.

With the lyrics before it and how it's enunciated with so much longing paired with the visuals of him wiping the blood to look down into the other end of the train. It really fucking goes hard as a line. Really embodying the whole come on praise me for helping you I did good right I saved you right so hey where's my thank you it'd be good if you said it energy.

2. Doesn't matter if you didn't wish for it, can't get rid of me now. Just the two of us, relieved, aren't you? I'll protect you (us).

Just the enunciation the growl. It's just really good as if going oh you want to push me down well I'm not going anywhere.

3. "He's a liar," you said and made me out to be a scoundrel, why?

The fucking double meaning if this one line is just so got damn amazing. It's not only calling back to the ridiculous accusations lines in Double but discussing the audiences response to Mikoto. Calling him a liar claiming he was faking. But the second half is referring to the audiences reaction to John making him out to be a scoundrel immediately blaming the murders on him. Labeling him as the bad one without even a second thought. Only leaving him to ask why? Putting more meaning behind the line

4. Hey, I just wanted to save you, so why did it come to this? Cling to me hoist me up as your savior stand up and sing out your gratitude- So, why?

As though Mikoto is their asking why is your song like this you should be praising me. You should be grateful so why?

5. I don't remember a thing it couldn't be helped I'm Double (MeMe).

This line is super great because it's like John and Mikoto both claiming onus of their own songs. And John answering Mikoto's question about why his song is like this. Basically going it couldn't be helped I'm Double. Basically saying it was bound to turn out like this because I'm like this.

6. Why, why? If only I were never born, if only-

To me, this came off as John going. If only I had never been born at all, then neither of us would have existed, and this wouldn't have happened. Expanding on the idea that Es and Kotoko both bring up that his existence is the problem. Which most wouldn't immediately go they mean because of my disorder but go yeah fuck it you're right if I never even lived to begin with this wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't even be here for this to happen and then the apology after these lines as if apologizing for having been born at its sooo good.

It has no right to be sooooo good. So, yes despite the incredible detriment that this week has been to my mental health and my anxiety literally being on a fucking hundred. Double has been the best fucking thing to ever happen to me personally. And it's so fucking amazing.

I love it so much.

[risingscorchingsuns]

hey guys! my posting/writing/general activity is probably going to get a little slower for a bit. i’ll still be here, but im going through a tough time right now. its been a frankly pretty awful week and im getting the feeling its gonna be rough for at least a solid minute. longer explanation below if you’d like it, but tw for mentions of trauma and abuse.

So ive mentioned it before, but i have complex PTSD. my parents split when i was very young, and my stepmom moved in with my dad almost immediately afterwards. when i try and remember it too much my brain gets foggy, but to put it simply, she was horrifically abusive to me and my younger siblings. she resented us for being born, as living reminders that my mother got to my father first. for over a decade she was the sole adult influence in my life, and from the age of eleven she manipulated me to believe she was the only person in the world i could trust. she bullied me for my neurodivergence, my appearance, my interests, anything she could get to lord over me. i had no escape for most of my formative years, because she cut me off and isolated me from any form of support I could possibly have, from trying to force me to change schools to convincing me my own father gave up on me. I only cut her off permanently last year.

Summers are really, really hard for me. When she and my dad moved across the country, I had to spend summers in Texas with her, and her alone. I had nobody. In a state far away from everyone who loved me, where she had full control and access to any form of communication. She’d regularly go through my messages I sent to friends, partners, even my mother to make sure I wasn’t “making up lies about her”. I was trapped, and completely, utterly isolated. Every day was about survival, and every day was about just making it to that night, through that hour, through that minute. Every single minute I lived in anticipation of the next, walking on eggshells to appease her impossible standards. When the weather starts to get warmer, my brain starts to anticipate going back there. I shut down, and go into survival mode. I have a tendency to isolate, though it’s something I’m working on.

The weather is starting to warm up where I live. I’m starting to get nightmares again, and I wake up feeling heavy. I’m stressed out all the time, and I constantly feel either hypervigilant to the point of paralysis, or completely dissociated. I know I’m in for a rough patch until my brain realizes I dont have to go back, and settles down my trauma responses. But it may be a while before that happens. I only ask to please be patient with me for a little while. I’m really sorry.

It’s hard for me to admit I’m not doing well. I might take this down if I find myself overthinking it. I will have good days, I always do. But for now, I’m in a bit of a dark place, and I deeply apologize for the resulting change in my interactions. I love you all deeply, and I want you to know I’m safe- I have a support system, and I dont ever have to see her again. I’m in a better place than I used to be, and I’m stronger every year. But the weather is starting to warm up, and I’m starting to shut down.

Please be well. I’ll respond to things as best I can, and I’ll still be around when I’m able.

Leon 🪲

[modern-day-bard]

Worth The Feeling

Note: I’m still having issues posting this as quick as I would like, I’m sorry! To anyone who has read the first two chapters or left a note, thank you so much! 🤍

Content Warning: 18+

This story includes explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship (MC is 26, Javi is in his 40s). Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 3:

Knowing that Barb was not kidding about the coffee, I make sure to stop at a cafe on my way to set. I also made sure to toss a spare t-shirt in my trunk this time, just in case. Luckily today's call time was a very late 6:00am, so I had an extra hour and a half of sleep under my belt. Hopefully that will make the possibility of mistakes lessened today.

For most of the day, things go off without a hitch. We're filming a couple of reshoots from yesterday's scenes, as well a couple of more indoor shots of another part of the CIA set. Nothing too crazy. By noon, I'm depositing Lloyd's dog, Pebbles, back in his trailer and heading into the soundstage again. I find my place next to Lana by the craft service's table right before they start the next take.

"Okay..." Lana mumbles out of the corner of her mouth. "I may have been wrong."

I glance sideways over at Lloyd and the producers seated behind the camera. I've been chewed out once for talking during a take, and once was enough.

"Wrong about what?" I keep my voice at the same level.

"Javi, how he wouldn't remember your little encounter yesterday."

My back stiffens.

"Why do you say that?"

Lana pauses, either to think over her words carefully – a rarity for her – or because she wants to make sure we're not overheard or scolded.

"Well, every time Lloyd calls cut, he looks over at you."

I feel heat rise to my cheeks immediately.

"We're standing in front of crafty, Lana. He's probably just hungry."

"Depends on what he's hungry for, I suppose." I can practically hear her suggestive eyebrow wiggle. I lightly slap her on the arm, trying not to draw any attention to ourselves.

Though a part of me can't deny the bubble of excitement I feel at her words, another part of me knows that Lana is my best friend, and she is kind. Kind enough to give me some hope, and maybe a boost of confidence. My last relationship didn't end well, and I met Lana only a few months afterwards when I was still a mess. She's pushed me to go on a few dates since then, but the Los Angeles dating scene is beyond bleak. Plus, it's hard to emulate Lana's optimism when her and Mia have been happily together long before I even arrived in L.A.

"Cut!" Lloyd calls out, "Martin, I'm going to need you at least five paces to the right before Javi delivers his line."

"Aaand cue look..." Lana snickers next to me.

I look up, and sure enough, I make eye contact with Javi as soon as I do. He doesn't look away instantly like I assume he will, and neither do I, like I thought I would. We hold each other's gaze for a moment longer, but his expression gives nothing away. For all I know, he's simply dissociating. But then, I catch the corner of his mouth tip slightly upward, and he peels his eyes away. I mean, he could have been smirking at Lloyd's directions, but I'm not sure.

I hear interference over my walkie.

"Repeat." I say into the mic.

"Hey Ava, it's Dwayne. Talent requested escort to and from their trailer."

"Copy. Who do you want me to escort?"

"Javi, please. You should break for lunch soon, be sure to bring him to his trailer and confirm that his lunch was delivered."

Javi requested an escort?

"Copy. Thanks, Dwayne." I secure the walkie back on my belt.

Lana is gaping at me.

"He requested you to escort him? Ava, take a hint!"

"He didn't request me specifically. He requested an escort. I'm one of the more seasoned PAs and Dawyne probably knows I'm least likely to get lost."

"Right. Sure." Lana says in a tone that is anything but agreeable.

I don't have time to reply before Lloyd calls for lunch. I grab a water bottle and an apple off the crafty table behind me and walk over to Javi, who is just stepping out of the set.

I can keep my cool.

"Mr. Gutierrez, I'm here to escort you back to your trailer?" Oh god, why did it come out like a question?

Javi smiles that same warm smile as yesterday.

"Hi, Ava. Sounds good." He claps his hands together, startling me. "Let's go!"

"Right this way." I lead him out into the sunshine. We walk side by side for a few moments before he breaks the silence.

"How long have you been a PA?" I glance up at his tall frame, which is bent slightly toward me in seemingly genuine curiosity.

"Four years and counting." I give him a polite smile.

"Ah. And do you enjoy it?"

I shrug. "It has its ups and downs, like any job. I do love the film industry, but I could do without the early call times." I'm not sure if I should be this honest with an actor, but his brow has knit together in a way that felt that he wanted the real answer, not just the pleasant one.

"But there is something else you would like to do." It wasn't a question.

"Um...yes. I'm actually in graduate school currently. Online, and I double up on classes when we're on hiatus."

"What are you studying?" He really is curious.

"Film Production. I'd like to be a director someday, or possibly an editor. Later down the line, producing would be my ultimate goal."

Javi raises his eyebrows, nodding slowly. We're almost to his trailer, so he probably is realizing that he has asked me enough questions–

"How old are you?" He blurts out.

It's not totally unusual for talent to make small talk, but that seems like a personal question.

"How old are you?" I counter without thinking. We're stopped in front of his trailer now. I'm holding my breath, unsure if I've offended him.

But then his brown eyes are alight with humor, and I know that I haven't. And then, easing my trepidation further, he laughs. His laugh is bright and breathy. It makes me giggle for a moment too, though I'm unsure why.

"You could just google me." He points out.

"Googling you feels inhumane." I say honestly.

"Inhumane?" He is close to laughing again.

"Yeah, I mean, you can't Google me to find out. But I can do it to you."

"I don't know, you have a pretty Googleable face." He is staring into my eyes now, and I have no idea how to take that or what he just said.

"Well, regardless, it just feels dirty." I walk up the three steps to his trailer and open the door for him.

As he steps inside, so low that I almost don't hear it, he murmurs, "Dirty isn't necessarily a bad thing."

I keep my face turned away from him for as long as possible so he can't see how red it just became. I remind myself that he doesn't know for sure if I heard him, and that my face could also be red from the heat.

I poke my head inside to see if he did indeed get his food. It looks like it's already been dropped off on his table.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Gutierrez?" My hand is on the trailer door, ready to go eat lunch myself.

He regards me for a moment from his chair.

"Yes. Two things. You could call me Javi, and you could join me for lunch."

I hesitate. I wasn't expecting that. His gaze is mostly friendly, but with something else I can't place. No one from talent has asked me that before, and I'm not sure if it's breaking any rules. But, with walking back to craft services to get my own lunch, and then needing to come back and get Javi again to walk back to the soundstage, it would actually save me time to eat here. As in, I would actually have time to eat at all.

"Please, I have plenty." He says, opening up the takeout box on the table.

"Okay, thank you." I take the chair across from him, placing my apple and water bottle on the table.

He takes a large bite of his burger, and me a bite of my apple. Then his eyes go wide and he hunches dramatically over his plate.

"Shit!" He says, mouth full. "I forgot I'm still in my wardrobe." Javi stays in that hunched position as he finishes chewing, clearly being careful of where to put his hands. I get up instinctively, moving to the small kitchenette and grabbing a paper towel for him, but when I turn around he is right behind me, apparently doing the same thing.

"You don't have to do that." He says, grabbing his own paper towel and tucking it into his collar.

"It's my job." I try not to focus too much on his fingers tucking the towel in his shirt as I respond.

"You're not a nanny. I invited you to lunch." He smiles as we sit back down.

"An actor acknowledging that I'm not a nanny is somewhat of an enigma around here." I smirk and take a swig of my water bottle, slightly less worried he will take offense this time.

He puts his hand on his heart in mock-hurt.

"You think so low of my community?"

I chuckle. "Your community has a long way to go."

"If I offer you my fries, would that help our case?" He pushes the plate toward me.

"Possibly..." I accept one of the fries, remembering that I haven't had time to eat all day. I can't help but close my eyes as I take a bite. I really am hungry.

I open my eyes to take another, and I realize that Javi is staring at me. He hasn't taken another bite of his burger. His brows are knit together again, his mouth parted slightly. I feel my breath catch in my throat, and I fake a cough to cover it up.

"I'm sorry, by the way." I keep my tone casual, picking up another fry. "For the other day. I should have done my research on the castlist beforehand."

"Aren't I the one who made you spill your coffee?" He raises an eyebrow. I'm beginning to think there is hardly ever a time where humor isn't filling his eyes.

"You can't be held responsible. It was way too early for any of us to open doors correctly."

"Well on behalf of all actors, I'm sorry too. It doesn't sound like we've made a very good impression."

I shrug. "Some of you aren't too bad. Especially the ones I didn't realize were actors." I smile at him.

"Now I'm offended." Javi takes another bite of his burger, clearly no truth behind his words.

"Well, unless you want to get lost on the way back to the soundstage, you should toughen your skin."

Javi chuckles quietly.

"First you clearly don't watch any of my work, and now you would abandon me?"

"To be fair, I have seen one of your HBO shows. The Passage Of Time, I believe."

"My character wasn't memorable enough for you, huh?" He quirks an eyebrow again.

"I was too focused on the blonde, Huston Katz, at the time." I take a long drink of my water.

"At the time..." Javi repeats back, almost absentmindedly. "So I have a chance at becoming memorable?"

I highly doubt he meant for those words to be filled with the same level of innuendo that I feel now. Luckily, I don't have a chance to respond before he speaks again.

"Besides, I wasn't worried about getting lost. Maybe I just wanted some company."

"Maybe I just wanted some fries." I say, taking a large handful. He laughs, pushing the rest of the plate toward me in defeat.

- - -

By 5:00pm, I'm finally winding down my responsibilities. I have a handful of things to deliver to Barb and her team, and then I should be able to go home. I almost drop everything in my arms when I hear rapid footsteps sprinting behind me, and then two hands grip my shoulders.

"Tell me everything." Lana says breathlessly.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"I don't care. How dare you not find me first before all this." She gestures to the stuff I'm carrying.

"Before my job?" I can't help but laugh.

"Yes!" She has no shame. I love her. "Now tell me!"

"Okay, okay, just keep it on the downlow. Keep in mind this means nothing to him."

"I completely disagree, but continue."

"Well, I escorted him to his trailer and we had lunch."

"If you don't give me actual details I swear to God I will stab you with my walkie."

"Okay. He's... warm."

"Like his skin?" Lana's eyes widen.

"What? No! His words, or I don't know, his personality was warm. Jesus, Lana."

"I mean if you're not going to worry about your sex life, I have to." She folds her arms and I can tell she's growing impatient with me. I'm not certain if she's impatient over how I'm answering her questions, or simply that I didn't have sex with this man in his trailer the moment we were left alone.

"How did doing my job turn into worrying about my sex life?"

"I can just tell these things. And Ava, let's face it, you need to get laid."

I stare at her in shock, my mouth agape.

She shrugs. "I'm just looking out for you. Ever since you and John–"

"The Traitor, you mean."

"Right, The Traitor. Ever since you and The Traitor broke up, you've barely gotten back out there. And now this nice, beautiful man is showing you attention and you don't even want to acknowledge it." Her voice is softer now, and I know that she genuinely wants me to have hope in this situation with Javi.

"I know, okay? I know I haven't really gotten back out there, and I love how you're looking out for me, I really do. But, and it's a very large but, we don't actually know if he is interested. So until we have some concrete evidence, can we just go about our days? Please?"

Lana watches my face for a moment.

"Okay. Fine. But when we do have that concrete evidence, you need to promise me that you'll go for it."

And whether it be the need to finally put down the collection of crap in my arms, or maybe the possibility of a tiny glimmer of hope within me, I nod my head.

"Okay, I promise."

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

[weebneil]

☆ I'm back with random modern au ScaraXiao rambling ☆

Summary: Scaramouche needs to get a vaccine but because of past trauma falls into a panic attack and Xiao helps him.

❀Read at your own discretion❀

Scaramouche and Xiao were sitting in a hospital waiting room. It smelled like medicine and sickness all around them. The white floors and the lightblue walls weren't helping Scara with his dizziness, he felt like he was gonna throw up. He was scared and started dissociating to cope with the situation.

Xiao grabbed Scara's hand and squeeze it "Hey Scaramouche, stay with me. He isn't here." He said and kept holding Scara's hand you help and ground him a bit

Scaramouche slightly groaned taking out a water bottle and un-screwing the cap before taking a sip. Ever since Dottore experiment on him he wasn't able to get vaccines without getting into a panic attack and feeling incredibly sick.

He was at least glad that now he had his boyfriend Xiao with him, Scara knew Xiao had gone through a fair bit of trauma himself it was in a way comforting when Xiao held his hand and gave him sugared words to help him.

It wasn't long before Scaramouche was called into the doctors office, it took less than a minute for the doctor to confirm his identity, Scara sat down and waited for the nurse to get the vaccine ready.

He felt time slow around him, his vision darken in the corner as the nausea came back. His blood ran cold as he started sweating bullets, his arms began shaking as he held back tears. He wanted to call out for his boyfriend but he couldn't his voice was gone.

The nurse noticed Scara's terrible state and ended up saying something to the doctor, Scara couldn't make out the words as his heart was the only thing he could hear. His vision when completely dark as he got lost and could barely breathe, tears now rolling down his face. He was falling deeper and deeper. His airways were almost completely blocked off as his mind wondered off to terrible flashbacks.

Before he could fall even deeper he felt a pair of hands wrap around him, he panicked and tried to push and kick the other person away as his eyes slightly cleared up, he couldn't see fully but now he saw colours at least. He quickly looked up at the person and recognized the teal hair. He immediately grabbed into Xiao's clothing and held on to him. He still couldn't hear anything besides his own heartbeat.

It took a while for Scara to ground himself. Desperately grabbing on to Xiao and his clothes, leaving scratch marks on his arms and back. And leaving two wet patches on his shirt. But eventually his vision went to normal and his heartbeat calmed down he was able to breathe again. He looked at Xiao.

Xiao ran his hand through Scara's hair "can you hear me sweetheart?" He asked softly as the other responded with a nod. Xiao slowly sat on the edge of the chair, right next to Scara "I've got you, I've got you" he whispered softly kissing Scara's forehead and holding his head close.

Scara breathed slightly before remembering he still hasn't gotten the vaccine and he tensed up, starting to panic as again. However he felt Xiao squeeze him into a tight hug and heard him softly whisper "Relax, it's just gonna be one second and then I'll take you home and have some tea with you". Scara could feel that Xiao's hug wasn't getting looser and he calmed down hugging him back and holding on to him, exposing his arm to the nurse.

Xiao must have given the nurse some sort of signal as Scara felt her grab his arm and give him the vaccine, however he didn't protest, he knew he had to get it done. And with Xiao hugging him, it was a lot easier to get it done with.

☆Rambling done! Have a great day!☆

[misssugarpinkshome]

Heyyyyy

So, it’s been. A biiit. And I keep meaning to post something about it all or let you all know, but I keep intending to post it when I get my next chap of WKYH done - and that’s been slow going (progress is progress but still).

So. Here’s the run down. Buckle up, cause here’s how my past year went (a fair bit of trauma dumping but also want y’all to know)

The TL;DR: this boy can pack so much trauma in him! But also a whole lotta life and some good stuff too. I’ll write more this year I promise 💙

Got Covid over Christmas into January 2022.

Moved in January 2022, with Covid, into a new basement apartment (in freezing temps, with no heat on in the house).

My secret partner of 5 years moved in with me about 2-3 weeks later, bringing with them the most perfectest little stray kitty in the world.

We try to unpack while working full time as teachers.

We have a mouse we have to handle, wolf spiders, ants, and drain flies. But it’s $400 a month to live here in a 5 room basement apartment with a kitchen and bedroom. No utilities to pay. Jesus we’re lucky.

I start therapy and get diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder (we been know but heyo we’re open about it now on this account). Also medically recognized as autistic, tho a diagnosis isn’t really needed atm.

I undergo severe harassment on a sideblog of mine on another account.

(Have I mentioned that’s just January?)

Things continue, I start processing how fucked up I am.

I come out to my sister as gay and a system in February. She keeps my secret but doesn’t talk to me.

Partner brings home 7 cats who need to be fostered, which we don’t have room for, but take care of anyways. (2 got adopted; The 5 that are left are STILL at their parent’s house, and we STILL go over and feed them regularly).

I come out to my parents as gay and a system in March. I miss work due to the trauma responses fucking up my body, my mom demands to see me, I have a 2 hour long conversation with her in the parking lot of Safeway. I’m dead certain I’m going to die that night (mostly due to trauma, wahoo).

Didn’t die! Woohoo! But I did black out for a day. No memories! Memories came back with a new alter in the system. Wahoo.

Report my shitty coworker for sexual harassment. He’s still working there 🫠

Remember that harassment on the sideblog? It continued on through all of this, including threats of Doxxing, threats of assault (sexual or otherwise), and sooo many suibaits. I end up deleting that blog and remaking to make the harassment calm down. It thankfully did (mostly).

In summer, got a long message from my sister saying “hey we should talk” which boiled down to “I see you as a friend but not family anymore. Let’s start over our entire relationship.��� Which. Hurt, to say the least, especially since it came the same day I was going camping in the woods for a week and would have no cell service. So. Great.

Went on vacation with my partner’s family in Wisconsin. It was really really good, even though it’s really blurry.

Went on vacation with my family in Aruba. Aruba was super good. We ignored everything I’d come out about and everyone just… tried to ignore what was happening. Cool 👍 Nice. Awesome.

Started the new school year with a MUCH BETTER COWORKER (still have to deal with the other guy though but this is leagues better) and a new 140 students.

Visit my parents semi-regularly, but don’t communicate at all with my sister. It’s always awkward and bad visiting my family. It takes 2 visits for my father to even talk to me directly.

I learn I experienced Some Real Fucking Bad Trauma from my parents (not the worst kind, not what comes to mind immediately, but the memories and horror are there now) and got a new alter.

Things continue like this for awhile. Then, in October, I get very sick. It’s a viral infection. It lasts from mid October to the end of October, when I get pink eye on top of it.

I heal up, and me and my partner get surprised engaged.

I get a resurgence of the infection in mid November. I miss more school. I am now out of sick days.

December rolls around. I catch Covid. I’m out for a week, the week before winter break. I’m now at -9 hours of sick time, and that’s with bonus days.

I miss my partner’s family Christmas, but I’m no longer positive for Covid when my parents have Christmas. So I drive to my parents, leaving behind my partner (who has Covid now)

My parents are nice, my sister is nice, it’s all very nice. The trauma responses I have aren’t nice. I try to give my mom a card from my partner. She doesn’t accept it, and tells me she will never read it.

I decide to cut my family off.

And now it’s January again. I’m freezing cold, but I’m in love, and things are looking up? But I’m sure y’all can understand why it’s taken me a bit of time to get my feet on the ground. Writing’s been hard while I just try to survive. But survival is coming a bit better now.

I’m hoping to write more this year. We’ll see how I do!

Thank you for your patience. :)

[italiceized]

Hey, forewarning, this is going to be another rambling deep dive. This one isn't happy, and is far less coherent. There's no ending point here, I'm just putting thoughts to paper. Maybe you'll get something out of it. I think... I did?

Depression, Dysphoria, and Loneliness

Act 1: Depression

Emotions are... weird. Growing up, I developed coping mechanisms (read: dissociating) that for the most part let me push through the emotional highs and lows of puberty. It wasn't the healthiest thing, in hindsight, but it got me through some rough times, and sometimes that's all you can ask for.

But things are different now. Since starting hrt, I've felt a depth and breadth of emotion that beggars what I felt before. The highs are so much higher. I walk outside on a nice day, and I get an almost overpowering wave of contendteness. I meet a friend to hang out and I spend the whole time on cloud nine, riding a high of happiness.

But with higher highs, also come lower lows.

I make no secret that I suffer from depression. It runs in my family: every single person in my immediate family is medicated for it or has been at some point (except me, dont worry it's Fine). In the past when I was hit by it, I could rely on my old standby (dissociating, remember?) and get through it fine. With the hrt though, I can't. I simply don't feel the need to. I want to feel things now, I want to be aware of how I feel! And boy am I ever aware of it. I've spent the last few days in yet another depressive spiral, and it's the lowest I've felt in a long while. I don't have the words to express the apathy, the lack of care, the gray haze that seems to coat every inch of the world. It's a horror in the most primal way, a betrayal of my own mind, of my self, in a cavalcade of horrors that I fear to even think about.

I've long held that my self-control is one of my greatest needs in life, to simply be able to fully and completely understand the actions I take and why I take them. And my depression shows me the worst parts of that. If I don't feel emotions I can't act impulsively on them. If I simply don't care about what's going on around me I don't have to fear overreacting to something or how others feel about me.

But no, that still isn't the worst part of my depression. No, that is a new element, a new horror that has haunted my life since my Gender Awakening. No, the worst part is:

Act 2: Dysphoria

My body is wrong.

Perhaps not in the objective sense. I have two arms and legs, ten fingers, ten toes, a torso, and a head with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.

And yet.

And yet somehow, it looks wrong. My chest and butt are flat, my arms and legs subtly off in a way I can't describe properly. My face is... Off. It's fine, I think? But it isn't right. My features are, and there's no other word for it, masculine.

If you're new here and didn't read the description: Hi, my name is Alice, and I'm a trans woman. I've been on estrogen for around 7 months now, and while the changes have been nice (so, so, so, so nice), they also aren't enough. Hrt is magic, but it certainly isn't fast acting magic.

Everytime I look in the mirror, I have to contend with what I'm going to see. Sometimes, I can see her, and I get to look in the mirror and smile at myself. But far, for more often, all I can see are the pieces of myself I hate. The little bit of stubble I've grown over the day. My eyebrows. The little, inconsequential details I could never point out, but which still paint me as a distinctly masculine figure. The location of the very fat, muscle, and bones of my body paint an image more horrible than anything I can imagine.

And I know, I, know, that it's mostly in my head. I know that for all I see the masculine parts, there are the feminine ones I crave. My chest is small but growing, my hips more distinct, my face softer in an ephemeral way, built of minor changes that are even now still taking place.

But in my worst, greyest moments, I can't see that. I can't see the progress I've made. This isn't a process, this isn't a long journey. It's an impossible journey. A mountain climb on a neverending cliff. I question if it's even worth it. Worth all the heartache and pain and fear and doubt. It would be so easy to just throw it away, and just go back to a world of grey where I

Didn't.

Have.

To.

Care.

Act 3: Loneliness

I'm aromantic.

Another surprise for anyone new here, I'm sure.

It's something that took me a long time to realize, and something I've made peace with... sort of. You're fed a line from birth that the key to happiness can be found in a partner, someone to share your life and the world with. The Romeo to your juliet, the sun to your moon. And then suddenly, you realize... you aren't going to get that. You aren't going to find someone to spend the remainder of your days with. And if that's not going to happen, what's your life for? We're taught that children and your partner are the most important parts of your life, and your legacy.

And then one day you realize that you have to go without that. You have to find a way to redefine who and what you are. Find a new way to justify your existence. It's a problem that is never really solved. You think you have the answers, and then the next day everything shifts a bit and suddenly the equations are all wrong and you get to start thinking about everything all over again.

To me, I find meaning for myself in the people around me. My family is my rock, a part of myself I can't and wouldn't want to change. My friends, though is where I focus, here. I've found a lot of meaning to life in my friends. Whether its a long night high as a kite and thinking about the universe, or eating at a late night diner after a night out, or sitting around the TV while someone plays a video game. So many small moments where I draw joy from those around me, and I hope give them a little back. So many wonderful moments that together give life meaning, that make it so beautiful.

But, like any relationship, there are downs to go with the ups. And God are the downs, downs. Some of my latest depressive episodes have been caused by something my friends have done. It's not entirely their fault, but sometimes it's easier to see the final straw than all the ones leading up to it.

Most of these spirals can be traced back to the same source: loneliness. Like a guinea pig left alone, if not given constant affection and attention, I get depressed immediately. It's been rough around here for reasons I won't get into. And while I understand the reasons and even am okay with them, being left seemingly on the outside of the group had been a common occurance. And it hurts. No matter how much I care for them, and understand how and why it happened, and don't blame them in any way, it still hurts. To feel ignored, whether in person, online or just seemingly not being thought about at all, is a hurt second to few others.

I've felt a depth of loneliness that I honestly have a hard time thinking about.

Act 4: I think this helped?

It's not all bad though. I've felt loneliness, but I've also had the joy of my friends when they are around. I'm dysphoric, but I can also see my self getting more feminine, closer ever day to being who I want to be. I've been depressed, but I've felt joy and love and far less of the depression than the world of grey I lived in before.

I guess the conclusion is: it's worth it. All of it is. My problems are real, but they're manageable. My friends can be unintentionally cruel, but they are also intentionally kind and caring. Its been a rough year already, but it's looking up, and I'm excited to see what it holds for me.

My conclusion is: it's going to get better. And I hope it will for you too.

If you made it this far, again, for some reason, I want you to know that I love you, specifically, for you.

[ludic-nebula-collective]

Eyebrow-Raisers

Hello. I've been questioning quite a bit about myself recently and finally decided to make a side blog to do a little more digging into whether or not I'm a system.

I know Tumblr isn't the end-all be-all for something like this, but it helps to get second opinions from people that may share similar experiences. Plus, I don't trust Dr. Google lol.

Under the break is a master post of everything I've experienced that's made me raise a brow. It's long and detailed, but I wanted to explain everything as best as I could. (TW: IFS mention)

My Experience

➺ This started in about May(?) of last year (2023). I had an alternate Discord account to move things between my phone and laptop easily and to leave notes for myself, and I had the urge to personalize it for other use. Pretty much as soon as I did, I started seeing it as its own person, to the point where I felt the need to use we/us pronouns.

➺ I've had severe dissociative symptoms for at least over a year now. Sometimes during a dissociative episode, I would recognize the name of the alt account over my own, but I was too convinced that I was still myself to notice much else about it.

➺ This kept happening for some time until someone talked me into trying IFS therapy to help cope with the symptoms. I was at an all-time low at this point and only agreed because I was frustrated and out of options.

(If you are unaware, IFS is a form of therapy that separates aspects of yourself into individual "parts" to work on. It is a highly controversial practice that you need a therapist to walk you through to do properly, which I was not aware of at the time. I also highly recommend researching Alsana Castlewood before deciding if it's right for you.)

➺ This person guided me through IFS for a couple weeks, during which I made about 10 "parts" to work with. They all had individual names, pronouns, and appearances, but were all me with specific stronger traits, if that makes sense.

➺ I knew IFS would only make my original symptoms and questioning worse, and I was proven right almost immediately. Whenever I would speak as my "parts," it felt like I was not mentally present. They spoke for themselves, and at times, it was like they were piloting my body despite how heavy the dissociation made it feel.

➺ It's been about four months since I stopped practicing IFS, and since then I've still felt like I'm not entirely alone in my body. I don't hear any of my "parts" anymore, but they still rarely influence some decisions. For example, I can't call something my own because I associate it with one of them too much.

➺ In these past few months, I've had one more experience. I hyperfixate on specific characters sometimes, which came to a head a couple months back when I heard one in my head. I remember thinking to myself that there was something I didn't want to do, and another voice in my head told me that they would. I felt like I got hit with sudden dissociation as soon as I heard it, too.

➺ This also happened over text. I was typing out a vent about this character, and I ended it by saying, "Hey, if you see this, just know I mean no ill will. I hope you're doing alright." Again, I was hit with a strong pang of dissociation, and it was like someone else wrote a reply: "I'm good, thank you."

➺ In both of those instances, I still felt like I was somewhat present, but I wasn't in complete control of my actions. It immediately felt like I was faking it, especially in the second example.

➺ I've also mentally asked myself if there were others present on two separate occasions. I didn't get a response the first time, but I did the second. I felt a pressure on the top of my head, almost like someone was pressing down on it, and I got both a name (one I hadn't heard before) and a voice change. I was still somewhat there, and I had to force my body to move so I could write about the experience.

➺ I have very severe memory problems (and have for most of my life), so while I don't recall any childhood trauma, I would not be surprised if I did experience it. That also means I might not have everything here, so I'll update this as I remember more experiences.

➺ I believe one of my possible alters and I have co-fronted before? I dissociated so hard that I very much did not feel like myself, but I was so preoccupied and out of it that I didn't write about the experience at the time. I don't remember much about what happened.

I know this is a long read, but this has been bugging me for some time. I appreciate everyone who has made it this far. Any comments or ideas would be appreciated. Thank you.

[mothra-mcyt]

☾ "Don't worry i'm here now." ☽

platonic!Philza x reader

!Trigger Warning: aftermath of physical abuse, blood!

Summary:

After your biological angry father thought taking his anger out on you physically was the best idea, you ran out of the house. Not knowing what to do you called the person that would be able to comfort and help you most in that moment. Philza Minecraft.

2.2k words

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Moving your legs as fast as you could you felt rainwater slowly drench your feet. With every sharp breath you took in you could feel your lungs more hurting. The tears streaming down your face blurred your vision making it hard to see where you're going but you could care less.

The only thing on your mind right now was getting away. Away from the danger that is at home.

What you didn't expect was to see your dad standing in front of you, brows furrowed in anger and beer bottle in his hand when you came home. You couldn't understand much about what he was shouting at you about but when he stomped down on your ribs while blaming you for loosing his job you began to understand what he was so raged about.

Thinking back to it you put your hand over where you know a boot formed bruise would probably form in purple colours.

You came back to your senses when you slipped in a puddle and slammed down onto the ground. A groan left your mouth feeling the already strong pain intensifying.

Trying your best at wiping away the tears forming in your eyes again to look around you saw where you ran.

The train station where you met Wilbur, Tommy, Phil etc. for the first time. Immediately memories started running through your head of seeing Tommy sprint out of the train, running up to you and hugging you as tight as he could. Or of Phil trying to hold you and Wilbur back from trying to steal a pigeon.

At the thought of Phil your eyes started to water again.

He always was there for you, always making sure you took care of yourself.

Never was mad at you when you made a mistake.

He was always so nice and gentle, you didn't want to bother him with your family problems.

None of you talked about it but both of you knew he was basically your father figure.

"Maybe i should call him...but wouldn't i just annoy him i did that... fuck it."

Thankfully you remembered to grab your phone when you started sprinting through the front door onto the sidewalk in a panicked state. Carefully taking it out of your pocket a curse left your mouth. The water of the rain soaked through your pants making your phone wet. Praying to whoever is out there you hoped that it wasn't broken.

A sigh of relief left your mouth when your phone screen lit up showing your familiar background image.

"Dammit. Only 23% left."

Unlocking your phone you immediately went to your contacts. Tapping on Phil's name you were about to press on the call button but you hesitated.

"Is this really a good idea...what if he's busy right now..."

Not realising it your finger accidentally pressed on the call button. Panicking you were about to stop the call but Phil already picked up.

"Hey mate what's going on. Why did you call me?"

Completely frozen you tried to think of a way to get out of this situation but before you could say anything Phil's voice started coming out of the phone again.

"Wait a minute. I hear rain. Are you outside?! It's in the middle of the night! Why are you outside?!"

"I- I'm sorry Phil. I don't know. I don't know anymore."

"Where are you, Are you okay?!"

"I'm at the train station Phil. The one where You, Wilbur, Tommy and the others met me for the first time."

You tried to your best to hide the fact that you were crying in your voice but apparently it didn't work well enough.

"Isn't that like really fucking far away from your home? Also are you crying? You sound like you're crying. Are you okay mate? Please talk to me."

Not being able to stop yourself a sob left your mouth. When you tried to open your mouth again to answer him just more sobs came out.

"Fuck shit okay i'll drive to you. Stay out of the rain and try to get somewhere warmer. I don't want you getting fucking sick. Just go to the toilets or something okay. I'll be there as fast as possible. Stay on the ca-"

It broke off before he could finish. Confused you looked down through blurry vision at your phone clutched in your hands. The screen was black. Frustrated you shoved your phone back into the front pocket of your hoodie.

"Of course the battery had to go empty at this exact time."

Mumbling to yourself you pulled the hood over your head before you went back into the rain to get somewhere warmer. Hoping that your memory for once wasn't gonna betray you you started to walk in the direction where you remember the toilets being.

Thankfully there was a single gender neutral bathroom stall so you don't have to worry about someone coming in and hearing you crying.

Pushing down the handle you stepped into the bathroom. It was bigger than a normal stall would be because it was also for disabled people. The floor looked like it was cleaned not long ago. There was some graffiti next to the door looking like someone tried to scrub it off but gave up.

Stepping to the sink you glanced up into the mirror to see how much of a mess you looked like.

There were obvious marks of a hand on your neck from where he choked you. It may have been only for a few seconds but it was still strong enough to make you shiver just from thinking back to it. Some dried blood that trickled down your forehead from where the green glass beer bottle crashed into your head. If you looked long enough you could see a fading handprint at your left cheek.

"Damn i look like a fucking mess."

Turning on the sink you looked down at your hands. There was some blood on your fingers from when you wiped away the blood running from your nose. Holding them under the water you immediately flinched away feeling how cold it was.

Taking a deep breath you put them under the stream again and started washing the blood away from your hands away first. Forming them to bowl you held them under the water. Knowing this is not going to feel great you splashed it on your face. Immediately regretting your decision you gasped for air.

Feeling it slowly running down your face you took some papers and dried the remaining water and blood off of your face. After throwing them in the trash can you looked back up into the mirror. Even without the scabs and dirt you still looked like a mess. With a sigh leaving your mouth you made your way over to the toilet and sat down on the closed seat. About to put your head in your hands you jumped when you suddenly heard a voice from outside the door.

Slowly starting to recognise the voice you quickly stood up.

"Da- Phil? Is that you?"

Raising your voice only a little to avoid other people other than him hearing it you stepped closer to do the door to listen more closely.

"Yeah it's me, i'm here now. Can you open the door mate? I wanna make sure you're safe."

Hesitating for a moment you slowly wrapped your fingers around the door handle. Carefully opening it you stared down at the ground making your hair shadow your face in hopes of hiding how much of a mess you are or maybe because you weren't able to look him in the eyes, too ashamed to let him see you in this state.

"Can you please look up at me?"

Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes when you looked up at him. You were surprised at seeing how much worry and concerned was showing on his face but also at how shocked he looked.

"Who . . . who did this to you?"

Not being able to hold it back any longer sobs started leaving your mouth. Tears started spilling when you felt Phil wrap his arms around you and pulled you in a tight embrace. Gripping the back of his shirt you felt him putting his hand against the back of your head. He pushed your head against his chest making your tears soak up the fabric of his shirt but he could care less right now.

"Take your time don't worry. I'm here for you and i promise i won't let go."

Slowly starting to calm down again, eyes dry from crying so much you still didn't wanna let go. This is the most comfort you ever felt in your entire life you were sure. But knowing you sadly couldn't stay like this forever you carefully pulled your arms back and stepped back a little. You tried wiping away the remaining tears but it only resulted in your cheeks getting even more wet from your rain soaked hoodie sleeves.

"Let's first get you to somewhere warm and safe. My house is closer so i'll just drive to my place if that's alright with you mate."

Seeing you nod was enough was enough of a response for him so he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and started walking to the exist. Or at least you thought it was in that direction. You don't really remember anything from before you went in the bathroom stall leading to you realising you probably dissociated the whole way here. Probably better that way.

After a while of just trusting Phil with where you two were going you stopped next to what you presumed was his car. Stepping in front of you he opened the door of the passenger seat and let you get in. Closing the car door you immediately relaxed feeling the warmth around you.

When he got in he quickly glanced over making sure you were okay before he started driving. You didn't really remember much from the car ride besides him asking you if you were okay every other 5 minutes to which you always responded with a small nod. Knowing at some point he's gonna want a better response from you but for now that was enough to satisfy him thankfully.

Slowly coming back to the real world you looked out of the window to your left and saw Phil's house. You don't really remember much from when you were here the last time one of the things that was still in your memory that it was bigger than you expected. But it felt comfortable and like there was put a lot of thought and detail into his home.

Jumping a little in surprise at Phil opening the car door he tried to help you out of the car but deciding to ignore him you started to get up.

"For fucks sake just let me help you you stubborn child."

A sigh of annoyance left you but you took his hand and let him take you out of the car.

"I'm gonna be honest Da- Phil i thought i was the one who was going to have to help you out of the car since you're becoming so old-"

"Shut!"

A giggle left you making him give you an obviously joking annoyed look. God you missed these interactions so much. Not like you two stopped having them they just felt a lot better in person rather than over discord or when calling.

Letting him walk to the door you stepped under the roof and waited for him to open it. Glancing behind you one last time you saw that the rain was still going strong but now you wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. Cautiously you stepped into the warmth of what you would love to call home and let Phil close the door.

Bending down you took off your wet shoes. A feeling of disgust went through you feeling how soaked your socks were. Standing up straight again you looked around confused because you didn't see Phil anymore. Immediately panic started rising in you. Feeling your heartbeat getting faster you quickly stepped further inside.

"Phil?!"

Trying your best to hide the anxiousness you heard the quick footsteps of a concerned Phil letting you know you failed miserably at it.

"You okay? What's wrong? What happened i was just getting dry and more comfortable clothes for you."

Slowly tears started forming and when you tried to speak your voice cracked.

"I- I don't know. I just thought maybe maybe you left because i-"

Noticing you starting to panic he put his hand under your chin making you look up at him.

"I am not going to leave you. I am not going to hurt you. No matter what i will stay with you. If you need something i will be there to help you. If you're ever sad i'm there to comfort you. No matter how long you cry i won't let you go until you're feeling better."

Not knowing what to do you rubbed away the tears that were about to fall.

"Thank you. Thank you so much Da- Phil-"

"Don't worry you can call me dad."

Registering his words the corners of your mouth went up forming a smile.

"Now come on. Here are better clothes to wear. Don't want you getting sick."

Masterlist

[littlepadika]

Hey if requests are open can I have a small drabble where the reader regresses(in private and only in front of Javier) as a way to cope with stress and Javier comes home to see the reader having a panic attack (from something of your choosing) and he pursuades the reader to go into little space to calm down and once the reader is a little calmer he gives them a “special hug“ to help them calm down fully

Hi wittle 👋 I haven't heard from you in a while I hope you're doing well. I'm sorry I haven't gotten to your other asks but this one really inspired me! I hope you enjoy ❤️

Warnings: DDLG, age regression, age play (consenting adults), anxiety attack then comfort, regression for stress relief

AN: Pls remember regression is different for everyone and can happen for a variety of reasons depending on the person and relationship. Regression (at least in my fics) is not dissociative disorder. Reader is still capable of consent.

The university called saying there was an error with your tuition payment and you tried to tell yourself it was a simple mistake. However after being on hold for nearly 20 minutes, you feared the worst. It wasn't a big deal. You knew you paid. You had the money. However your anxiety still spiked thinking of all the ways things coudl go wrong. Your breathing was growing more rapid and the room was starting to become hyper focused in places, fuzzy in others.

"Bebita?" There was a knock on your door. Javi! You had completely forgotten he was coming over tonight. You answered the door, the annoying hold music still playing over the phone. "What's up?" Javi frowned when he saw your distress.

"I- I- they- tuition problem." You found you couldn't hardly speak you. Then the palpitations started. You clutched your chest, sitting down on the couch.

"Bebita!" Javi dropped his things, rushing to your side. He took the phone away from you.

"No! I need to- I need to-" You reached for it.

"We can call them back. I promise. It's going to be okay. Just try and breathe with me. Respira."

Your eyes shot around the room, not focusing. Javi hugged you and pressed himself into you, aligning his heart over yours and breathing deeply.

"If you want-" Javi hesitated before continuing, not sure if this was the right time. It was worth a shot as it always seemed to make you happier. "If you want you can be little. Like we talked about."

"No I... I have to be big." Your body was starting to relax from the panic attack, exhaustion making your mind want to slip into that state.

"I'm here. I've got you, bebita. It's okay. You don't have to be big now. Papi's got you. Let me take care of you, bebita. Come on, where is my little baby?"

"I'm- I'm here, papi." Your eyes finally find his and you're tearing up at his soft face. Littlespace felt like descending in a pool of warm water where nothing could hurt you. You trusted him so completely. You loved him. He never treated your anxiety as a burden and now he wanted to care for you completely.

"Mmm I see you, preciosa. That's it..." He kissed your forehead, slipping into his own role. You slumped against him, nuzzling your nose against the hollow of his neck. You inhaled his familiar musk and cologne.

"Papi will handle everything right now." He picked up your phone and put it in his back pocket out of site. He momentarily pulls away to sit up more comfortably, which causes you to fuss immediately and make grabby hands for him.

"I'm right here." Javi cooed, helping you into his lap, chest to chest.

"More... more." You tap your forehead against his sternum. You were not close enough. Not safe enough. You needed your papi even closer.

"Wh- what do you want? Words, bebita." Javi wracked his brain trying to remember all the things you had discussed wanting as a little.

"Special hug, p'ease." You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. "p'ease."

"Yes baby." His eyes widened momentarily but then he kissed you softly. He took his cock out, sliding his pants down as little as necessary so as not to disrupt you. He wasn't sure you were quite ready so he just rocked you against him slowly until he could feel you starting to grow wet.

"P'ease." You say again, mewling against his neck. It wasn't sexual although it felt good to have him against your clit. It was just feeling his warmth so close. You wanted it connected to you.

"Shh I know. Papi will give you everything you need... there you go. Good girl." He slid you down onto his length, hissing at how warm and tight you were. This wasn't about him, but you did feel incredible. Being inside you felt so much more intimate now that you were little and needly. Javi felt pride coursing through him when you let out a pleased hum and smiled up at him.

"Is that better?" He cupped your face in his large hands, wiping your tears.

"Mhmm. Can I suck your thumb, papi?" You turned your head kissing his hand.

"Anything for you." Javi softened, letting you suck his thumb lightly for some more comfort. "Papi loves you, bebita. So much. You don't have to hide around me especially when you're sad. ¿Entiendes?"

"Mmm" You closed your eyes feeling him pulsing inside you to the time of his heart beat. Your problems seemed so small now. Papi would take care of them. Papi said everything was going to be ok.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My masterlist

Littlespace taglist: @lafresamilk @dobbyjen @mamacitapascal @prettypedros, @marstheplanet @takochansugoi @oceanablue @iwishtobeastorm @dincrypt, @bac-1, @spacenerdpascal, @cranberrypills @punkerthanpascal

[rielzero]

I have Dissociative Amnesia

(No, I do not have DID, dissociative amnesia is a side effect of cptsd, ptsd, depression, trauma in general. Emotional neglect and emotional abuse, or medication can also be bad contributors to memory issues.) My experience with dissociative amnesia can range from random recalls to something incredibly unrelated to what I was previously doing, or visually triggered due something familiar.

One frustrating thing is that it simply messes up your capability to; chronically remember, if you’d ask me to put a timeline together I’d miss several things and come back and edit everything constantly. Its infuriating when you’re so used to being gaslit and told you’re lying when you’re not. You’re not ‘’making up a story’’ you’re piecing together your story. And at times the details dwindle away. They don’t want to stick around because remembering them is painful too.

Then there’s also the damage to short term memory. If stuff fails to make it into some longer form memory, I’ll forget seconds after I was informed. This, as a neurodivergent person is extremely awful to me. A lot of people have the habit to make last minute infodumps, expecting me to remember. But because I wasn’t mentally prepared, I’ll have sensory overload and the information simply won’t stick at all. It’s like throwing paint at a wall but it somehow won’t stain the wall, it just glides off the the floor and sinks away.

Some examples of how I experience dissociative amnesia and memory damage in my daily life:

1. I’m training the habit to do my laundry on monday. Sometimes the laundry machine will beep to announce its ended, and I’m thinking ‘’just a sec, I’m coming’’ I end up with realizing 5 hours later my wet laundry is not inside the dryer, its untouched in the laundry machine. 

2. I try to lunch around 12. I look at the clock at 11.55, remember I’m hungry but get distracted despite telling myself several times to shut it down and have lunch. Its 13.00 when I finally get to do so, despite feeling hungry for an hour. The same goes with drinking water.

3. I’m told to do a chore, I’m about to do the chore and stand in a room disoriented.

4. I know I have an appointment in the day, I make the mental note that around that hour someone will ring the doorbell. The doorbell goes off, I respond startled, because the entire thing escaped my mind and it makes me feel disoriented.

5. A friend tells me a personal fact about them, I understand this is important. I mentally instill in myself its important. I forget the personal fact entirely when it becomes important again, and I hate myself.

6. I forget conversations or information I shared with people. ‘’Hey, what about [subject]?’’ ‘’when.. when did I ever tell you this? I don’t recall telling you this.’’

7. I over-explain and forget mid-sentence during my panicky over-explaining what I was trying to convey that was so important because its attached to a past memory. This is not just annoying, it can shoot me into a panic attack.

8. Being told to remember stuff for someone with better recollective ability. When I forget and get blamed despite them remembering on their own; this is just mean and kills my self confidence.

9. Remembering something important out of nowhere, immediately forgetting it and sitting there for 30 minutes trying to re-locate the trigger for the memory.

10. Suddenly remembering an entire chapter of my life. Because I want to be able to have a chronical sense of being, I start a tangent and write in my personal space to my friends (in this case a group chat) while I’m anxious i might be info-dumping or coming over negative, this is solely to be able to establish the memory again, it happened. I’m not actually venting the story, I’m doing it for my own sake.

11. Forgetting to have breakfast despite having trained myself to eat breakfast. There were no actual feasible distractions.

12. There’s a memory attached to a certain object, thing, or word. But for some reason despite nostalgia and familiarity I have no auditory, visual, memory recollection aside from a certain feeling.

13. Being unable to remember certain people or interactions with them in any detail no matter how much they impacted my life in the past. Not being able to tell if I was nice or not, but I can remember a certain vibe this person gave off. If the person may have hurt me really badly, I feel a certain anxiety around them. If the person was nice, I feel a warm connection.

14. [sees something] brain: remember when people used this against you? [cringes]

15. toxic person: I’ve changed. Brain: there’s totally trauma this person caused, but I’m just gonna let you be defenseless again. [remembers after the same thing repeats] ‘’fuck’’

16. forgetting language. Literally forgetting meaning of entire phrases or words. Feeling like nothing makes sense.

17. Wakes up with a plan and suddenly becomes disoriented, unable to tell what my plan was, and unable to proceed with the day as a result.

18. Anxiety / disorientation that comes with every memory or social memory related issue. The stress is physically draining and can make me feel ill or trigger headaches.

19. Crying about something you remembered, and all the sudden you don’t know why you’re crying. Same goes of getting angry all the sudden about something, or any other emotion.

edit: added 2 more

20. Not being able to tell whether certain memories are real or not, despite them feeling real. This can be disorienting.

21. Having several different versions of a singular memory, not being able to tell which one is real, or them feeling all equally as real as one another. The ‘’true’’ memory is in a sense lost.

Some stuff I actively do to help me train my short term memory: attachment and linking.

Connecting certain subjects to one another helps, as a neurodivergent person you often link one or two things together. Because they sound similar or remind you of each other. I’ve been told by people I ‘’derail’’ conversations, but the subjects are linked, and the link is obvious. example: You’re eating pizza tonight. Connected to did you feed guinea pigs tomatoes today or not? Why is it connected? Pizza tends to have tomato sauche.

Another thing is important to remind yourself you’re human. You are designed to mess up. Do not belittle or cuss yourself out for something you can’t help.

My memory issues are the result of a very complicated childhood filled with things I don’t want to elaborate on. There’s no reason to blame myself for things that were done to me. Harm that was inflicted on me. If certain people get mad at my memory issues, then they should remember they are part of the cause.

And while they can be mad at me, I have more anger for them than I should have for myself.

At least I’m trying to focus on being able to remember things so my daily life gets easier.

Encourage yourself. Positive attachment. Your meaning of life is what you find most important in your life. You’re not evil for being flawed or having disabilities. What’s truly evil is the lack of empathy others have to you. You’re not a villain.

I try to tell myself that this is real, this is happening, even if something I can’t remember the rest of my story.

And no, do not give me unsolicited advice. I am managing more than you think.

I didn’t write this to search for help, but to inform others of my experience should they find some sort of kinship.

[many-but-one]

you probably don't care but my understanding was that Marc is the gatekeeper and has been controlling switches for years to keep the system secret from Steven. Steven begs to be let out at all and Marc reluctantly agrees, than immediately takes it back when shit goes wrong. they may be new to communicating but Marc is very practiced in controlling Steven's access to the front

Hey, I saw your second ask saying to delete this if I wanted to because you are hyperfixating. I actually really appreciate that you said this, because like I've mentioned previously, I haven't seen the show. Nor have I read the comics! I don't actually know anything about their system. It could be very likely that Marc is a gatekeeper alter. Gatekeepers are remarkable at keeping things hidden for years. Our gatekeeper kept the system hidden until I was 22 years old. Of course the system functioned in the background, and I had a lot of amnesia or moments where I noticed my body was out of my control. It scared the hell out of me, for real! In the trailer I could definitely relate to Steven's feelings of not knowing what was real or not. I remember googling "How do I know if I'm dreaming or not?" And "I don't feel real?" And "I can't tell the difference between reality and my dreams." I straight up thought I was going absolutely freaking nuts. For a hot second I was sure I was possessed by spirits. In an earlier post on my blog I mentioned I thought I was really good at astral projection and talking to spirits. No...I was just dissociating into the third person and hearing alters in my head more clearly in that state. I then thought it was schizophrenia because I was hearing voices, but then I learned about dissociation. That's when things started getting really weird, because at this point I was totally unaware of my trauma. I read a bit about dissociative disorders, like DPDR. Thought maybe it was BPD or something as well. My therapists were useless at the time, they had no idea what to do with me. My APRN started treating me for bipolar disorder. (Hint: It wasn't bipolar disorder, and the meds didn't do shit for me at all.) It wasn't until I saw a trauma therapist with a specialty in treating DID that could see my symptoms and understand what they were that I finally got correctly diagnosed. Bless her, truly, or I would likely still think I was cr*zy. (Sensored b/c some people are sensitive to this word.)

So in the bits and pieces I did see of Moon Knight, I could definitely relate to Steven's confusion. And now that you've mentioned Marc could be a gatekeeper that has been behind the scenes all this time, it definitely makes sense. Our gatekeeper, James, can control switching very well. Not perfectly, but he can facilitate switches very easily. Our amnesia barrier between us is also much lower than it used to be, making controlling that switch even easier. Now that Steven is aware of Marc, switching will likely be much easier between them.

Thanks for this ask, anon!! I really appreciate you giving me some more insight.

-Jules

[whumpurr]

Adrien and Sawdust part 6

cw: pet whump, whump recovery, bodily mutilation, self harm, brief and vague mention of past noncon, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, unreliable narrator, brief mention of dissociation

masterlist

Sawdust was searching for his bag the second Master was gone. He hopped out of bed, punctuated with a fit of dizziness as he got to his feet, and crawled around the room looking for his duffel bag. The bright blue bag was nowhere to be found, and Sawdust wasn’t great at seeing in the dark either.

He started to wonder, to second guess himself. Did Master put the bag somewhere in the room and Sawdust just isn’t seeing it? Is he overlooking it? Did he even have a bag at all? Did it come with him to this new house, or was it left with his previous master? No, no, he remembered seeing it next to his kennel with those other people.

If he left the room now, Master would surely hear it and question him, or worse, punish him for disturbing his sleep. As much as Sawdust wanted his ears back, he just had to trust that Master would return them in due time.

Sleeping was difficult without the familiar squeeze of his headband around his head, but with a full stomach he managed to eventually fall asleep even if it took a while.

Sunlight came all too soon for Sawdust. The light peeked through the curtains and he couldn’t physically sleep any more. He was dreading going downstairs and having to face his master, having to eat beside him. He could only imagine what his master was going to do to him. Would he record him? Bring his friends over and show him how pathetic and stupid he looked eating out of a bowl on the floor? Sawdust shook himself out of his thoughts; he was just a dog anyways, he shouldn’t have enough of an ego to be embarrassed.

He was getting himself out of bed, going down onto his hands and knees when he heard a soft knock on the door, followed by Master’s quiet voice.

“Sawdust?” Master said from the other side of the heavy wooden door. “Come on, let’s go get some food.”

Sawdust got to the door and opened it with his paw, stepping out and following Master.

Master gave him a bowl of dog food once he was downstairs. Sawdust half contemplated asking Master about his ears, but really, if Master had taken them away then it was because Sawdust did not deserve them any more.

“Master,” Sawdust murmured, “Is- is there anything your pet can- can do? To assist?”

Master looked thoughtful for a moment then laughed, laughed at Sawdust.

“I think my work stuff is a bit advanced for you,” Master took a bite of his own food, “I want you to focus on… recovery, for now. Okay? That means you rest up and come get me if you want anything, food, water, whatever.”

Sawdust nodded, “Yes, Master,” before he continued eating, the hard kibble crunching satisfyingly between his teeth. He couldn’t work up the courage to ask Master about the ears or his bag, or where they’ve gone.

Lunch and dinner went similarly, with Master coming, getting his pet, and taking him downstairs to eat. Each time Sawdust couldn’t work himself up enough to ask Master about his ears. The lack of his ears made Sawdust feel… Wrong. Like he wasn’t a real dog, like he was a subpar pet. He wasn’t good enough to this new Master who had otherwise been so kind to him. What had he done to deserve this?

Night eventually fell, and Sawdust did his best to do as Master said and get to sleep. He curled up in the nest of blankets and pillows that his Master had made in the corner for him, and let himself begin to drift off. As he was doing so, he couldn’t help but wonder why his Master was withholding his belongings from him. Nevertheless, his eyelids grew heavy, and he eventually fell into a deep sleep.

--

Adrien was still getting accustomed to feeding someone using a dog bowl, with dog food, on the floor. It was a strange experience, and doing it made him feel dirty, but it was all Sawdust was going to accept so if it was between that or making the pet starve again, he would have to go with the former.

He was still very aware of just how lost he was in all of this. He searched the internet and scoured his social media for something that could give him some kind of life preserver in all of this. Finally, finally, he found something. A chatroom for pet owners. From the looks of it, it was heavily moderated and geared more towards pet liberation activists, and pet rehabbers, and people who actually cared for their pets. He requested to join and was accepted within the hour. He immediately sent a message to the ‘help’ section.

Adrien: >> Hey guys, I’m a new owner and I didn’t do as much research as I should have. >> Long story short, I didn’t keep as close an eye on my pet as I should’ve, and he ended up not eating because I wasn’t giving him dog food. Is that a normal thing? How can I help him?

It wasn’t five minutes before one of the other owners responded,

1Y4N4: >> oof, thats no good dude.. definitely watch him harder and probably just stick to feeding him what he wants for now. u said hes new right? let him stay in his comfort zone for a little bit probably

Adrien: >> Thanks. I’ll do that.

1Y4N4: >> np, im a bit more experienced as an owner but i dont think mine were as conditioned as urs >> at least not in that way

Zo: >> Bro wtf? You’re the source of your pet’s whole life and shit, you really should’ve done more research.

Adrien sat and watched as this ‘Zo’ person continued to rip into Adrien for his irresponsibility, though the ‘1Y4N4’ user at least tried to defend Adrien. It wasn’t long before Zo quieted down and 1Y4N4 was able to speak up again,

1Y4N4: >> lots of actual dogs eat things that arent dog chow >> maybe show your pet some videos of people feeding their dogs other stuff, maybe hell be more open then

Adrien thanked the user, and used the rest of his evening compiling some videos and researching, finding the outer bounds of what dogs could eat in hopes that he could convince Sawdust. It was far from exactly what he wanted, but he felt some semblance of satisfaction that there was at least a way to progress forwards.

--

Sawdust finally came up with a plan when he was coming out of the bathroom the next morning. It was before Adrien had gotten up. As Sawdust was leaving the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

His hair was all matted, and the fringe at his forehead was beginning to grow to hide his eyes. He looked lacking without his ears. There were deep circles under his eyes. At least the peaks of his cheeks and his lips were starting to regain some color now that he had a steady supply of food which he undoubtedly did not deserve. The scratched scar across his nose bridge and cheek that one of the other dogs gave him was still there. He looked at that and followed it across his face to his second ears.

His dumb second ears, the ones on either side of his head that his last master hated so much. His previous master had always told him that they made him look less like a dog, less like a pet, when a pet was all Sawdust ever wanted to be. Because if he wasn’t a pet, then he was a toy for both Master and the other dogs, and that was one step above the most reprehensible thing he could be. He had been downgraded to ‘toy’ for a short amount of time previously, and he was eternally grateful that he was never dropped even lower, to being nothing but food for the other dogs.

Master threatened that sometimes, chopping him up and feeding him to the other dogs.

Whenever Sawdust looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help imagine it. Being cut up and thrown to other animals to eat. He found some part of himself that felt that- even if he could never do anything else right- he could do that right. He tried to halt that train of thought as quickly as he could, before his mind shunted him off to some dark, foggy place where he couldn’t think or feel until the bad thoughts went away.

But at the root of those thoughts, he found the problem, as well as the solution. He scrambled down to the kitchen as fast as he could go, wanting to work quickly before he could stop himself.

He got to the kitchen sink, and stood up on trembling, unused legs. They could hardly support his weight, he had to lean onto the granite countertop with his elbows as he reluctantly removed the tape from his paws using his teeth. He would need his fingers for this.

Sawdust’s breath was quick in his throat, the edges of his vision grew blurry as he tried to focus on this and only this. He had one task and he was not going to fail it. He wanted his ears back. He wanted his master to be happy with him again. Maybe this way he could earn his master’s attention and... Maybe even his affection, if a pet was allowed to hope.

Sawdust’s paws were shaky and clumsy as they took out the biggest knife out of the wooden blog. It was heavy and cold in his paw. With one paw he held the tip of one of his second ears and pulled it as far away from his head as he could.

The cold edge of the blade rested on his skin, at the valley between his second ear and his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t break down now, he couldn’t stop now. He took a deep, sharp breath and pressed down on the knife as hard as his feeble paws could.

--

Adrien shot out of bed to the sound of a piercing, howling scream from downstairs.

taglist: @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi@neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine