#Caffeine Withdrawal

[todorokis-girl]

Let's talk about the caffeine addiction - Kirishima x reader

Kirishima and Y/N navigate an evening of tension and care. Despite struggling with a caffeine withdrawal headache, Y/N resists drinking coffee to preserve their breakfast date the next morning. 

Requests are OPEN!

masterlist

No one had ever really paid attention to your struggles before. You knew caffeine was an addiction, and the headache you’d had all day was definitely because of the caffeine withdrawal. But it was 7 p.m., and you couldn’t have coffee. Kirishima had planned a breakfast date for the two of you tomorrow morning, and you didn’t want to mess that up.

As you massaged your temple, Kirishima glanced over from the driver’s seat while waiting at a red light. His concerned eyes studied you, taking in the tension etched across your face.

“I have to stop at the gas station. Need anything, baby?” he asked, his voice a soothing rumble.

“No,” you replied softly, trying to muster a reassuring smile.

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion, but didn’t press further. Once he parked at the gas station, he got out of the car without another word. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the seat, wishing you could skip the party. But you knew he was excited about it. It was a reunion of sorts—a chance for his old class to be together again after so long. You didn’t want to dampen his excitement, even if you felt like curling up in bed instead.

The car door opened, and the cool night air rushed in. Before you knew it, a cold bottle was pressed against your cheek. Startled, you opened your eyes to see Kirishima holding a glossy bottle of iced coffee—vanilla, your favorite.

“What?” you muttered, taking the bottle from his hand. It felt cool against your fingers, and you bit your lip, hesitating.

“You’ve been nursing that headache all day. You’re the one who wanted to come to the party,” he reminded you gently, his crimson eyes filled with concern.

“I can’t. We have breakfast tomorrow, and you haven’t seen all your classmates in forever, Eiji,” you protested, your voice wavering.

“It can be breakfast for dinner. Please, drink it,” he urged, his tone sincere and caring. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch comforting.

You looked at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face. His thoughtfulness warmed your heart. You unscrewed the cap and took a tentative sip, the sweet vanilla flavor immediately soothing your headache.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice soft with gratitude. “You always know how to make things better.”

Kirishima grinned, his sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. “That’s what I’m here for. Now, let’s go enjoy this party. And if you’re still not feeling great, we can leave early. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agreed, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. With Kirishima by your side, you knew you could handle anything, even a caffeine withdrawal headache at a party.

[the-blueberry-sage]

I'm in caffeine withdrawal and it's 1 AM, way too late to make coffee but I want it! I'm in a hell of my own making! What did I do to deserve a mild to moderate headache??

[cryinginsidebecauseofbrutasha]

Day 6: Caffeine Withdrawal

Natasha sat on the examination room table as Bruce stitched her up for what seemed like the millionth time.

The doctor sighed. “As much as I enjoy your visits, Natasha, I don’t like how we keep meeting like this,” he said with a small smile.

Natasha feigned confusion. “What do you mean, doc?” she asked. “With your face being five inches away from my chest and me partially undressed?”

Bruce shook his head. “No.” When he spotted Nat’s smirk, he realized what that sounded like. “That’s not what I meant.”

“But you said it,” she teased. Natasha grimaced as he tugged at her wound a little harder. “Don’t be like that.”

“Sorry,” he murmured. When Bruce was done, he looked up at her. “But seriously, Natasha, please be more careful. Every time you have a fight, every time you go on a mission, you seem to come back with injuries worse than the last one.”

Natasha kept her teasing smirk on. “Do you care?”

“Of course. You’re my teammate. And patient.” Bruce hesitated. “And a friend.”

Nat smiled.

“All jokes aside though, your blood pressure’s a little high,” Bruce said, reading from his computer. “Not horrible, but if it does turn out to be something, I’d like to catch it before it gets out of hand.”

Natasha leaned forwards, disrupting her new stitches. “Really? But I do healthy stuff!”

Bruce shrugged. “It’s your blood. Just stay off caffeine and you’ll be fine. I’ll write you a note excusing your withdrawal symptoms.” He turned back to his computer screen and glanced back to her. “Did you just rip your stitches?” he asked exasperatedly.

Nat smiled at him still, guileless.

Bruce sighed. “Hold still while I fix this.”

After a few minutes of him redoing her stitches, Natasha spoke up. “So, how do you plan on stopping my coffee intake?” she asked.

Bruce didn’t look up from his task. “You’re supposed to do that yourself.”

“But what if I don’t want to?”

“Then you don’t want to and you’ll be coming back later when you faint.”

Nat wrinkled her nose. “I don’t faint.”

“Yet,” he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes. “What if you regulate me?” Nat offered. “You stick with me for a while and stop any stuff I try to get.”

Bruce huffed. “You want me to stick with you for about two to nine days to make sure you don’t consume any caffeine?”

“Yeah.” Natasha stared at him. “Have a problem with that? Cause I have a doctor’s note.”

The doctor sighed. “Fine. God knows I work on vacation days anyway.” He finished her sutures. “Don’t touch them.”

Natasha hopped off the table. “And if I do, I’ll have you with me to fix them.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “I’ll clean up here and I’ll meet you outside.” He started washing up his things.

Natasha grinned. “Or I could just stand here and watch you.”

“You could do that too.”

A few minutes later, Bruce and Natasha emerged from the examination room, Nat grinning triumphantly while Bruce followed her with a sigh.

After stopping by the kitchen to have their dinner, they walked to Natasha’s door.

“I guess this is where we say our goodbyes for the night,” Bruce said, rubbing his neck.

Natasha looked at him with a mischievous smile. “What if I wake up without you noticing and sneak out and get my morning coffee? No, no. You’re coming in here with me.”

Bruce spluttered uselessly as he got led into Natasha’s room. “Nat–”

Natasha perched on the edge of her bed. “What? You were the one who said I needed to be off caffeine, and it’s not like we’re sleeping together.” She took her shoes off. “Right?”

“Ye– Yeah.” Bruce looked around before sitting down in the armchair. “Right.”

Nat grinned at him before going into her bathroom. She performed her usual routine and winced slightly as the hot water hit her wound.

When she was done, she came out of the bathroom in her pyjamas and watched Bruce stifle a laugh. “What?”

“You’re wearing your own merchandise.” He grinned. “An extra-large Black Widow tee.”

Natasha lifted the hem of her shirt and the corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched.

He chuckled. “Hulk pyjama bottoms.” Bruce shook his head. “You own Avengers merchandise.”

“Of course.” Natasha padded over to her side of the bed. “I helped design it, so what’s the use of not keeping a few for myself?”

“You designed the–” Bruce broke off into another laugh. “You constantly surprise me.”

Natasha smiled. “Well, that was the goal,” she said. “Shall we sleep, or do you want a good night's kiss?”

Bruce sent her a small smile. “I think I’m alright.”

Nat shrugged and turned off the lights.

-

Natasha woke up to a splitting headache. “Banner!” she cursed.

Bruce startled awake. “What?” He looked around and seemed to take in his surroundings. “Why is my last name being used as a swear word?”

“I need coffee,” she complained. “I have a headache.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Come here. Sit down.”

Natasha padded over reluctantly. She plopped down in front of Bruce’s chair.

The doctor placed his fingers on her forehead and applied a slight pressure, rubbing soothing circles on her temples. “Feel better?” he asked softly.

“Hmm,” Natasha replied. “In a bit.”

After a few minutes of this, Bruce released her from the head massage.

“That felt nice, but why’d you stop?” Nat frowned up at him.

Bruce sighed and returned his fingers.

Natasha grinned at him.

-

The second day, Bruce made her breakfast.

“I like this.” Nat chewed thoughtfully. “This beats the Ritz.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“C’est vrai, cher,” Natasha replied, smiling at him.

The doctor flushed.

Tony walked in, eyebags prominent, to the coffeemaker. “Good morning, coffeemaker. Good morning, love birds.”

Natasha glared at Tony. “Shut up, Shellhead,” she snapped.

“Cranky,” the billionaire muttered. “On withdrawal?”

Nat threw an orange at him.

Tony caught it and established eye contact before biting into it, skin and all. He spit it out right after. “That’s… bitter.”

“No shit.” Natasha rolled her eyes and turned back to her food. She took a bite of the egg and caught a whiff of the trash can, which her gag reflex didn’t appreciate. Nat ran to the sink and threw up her breakfast.

Bruce got her some water while she tried not to vomit because of the vomit.

“Sink, flush,” the doctor called behind her.

The sink flushed.

Natasha barely acknowledged him as she tried to keep her water down.

Bruce offered her a peeled banana and she took it.

“Fucking withdrawal,” Nat muttered.

Bruce rubbed her back sympathetically.

After the banana, the two of them hung out on the couch.

“I don’t like you.” Natasha breathed in. “Nope.”

The doctor chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s not my job to be liked. I just want you to be okay.”

Natasha kicked him without much conviction.

“Thank you,” Bruce commented. “That was such a nice was to convey gratitude.”

“You saw me half-naked.”

“That,” he said, “is, as always, completely your fault.”

Natasha frowned. “Other people stabbed me.”

“You went on the mission.”

Bruce and Natasha had a staring contest before he sigehd and bowed out. “Fine. You win,” he said. “Please be careful.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it.”

Natasha regarded him with soft eyes. “Fine.”

Bruce looked at her, brown eyes meeting green. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

[bi-luminescentdragon]

Worst idea of my life: quitting caffeine.

HOWEVER BAD THIS HEADACHE IS, I WILL NOT BACK DOWN.

[themanta]

@reverseprompts

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

@sicktember #30: “Get Back in Bed!”

Fandom: Marvel (Spider-Man: No Way Home)

Characters: Peter Two (Tobey Maguire), Peter Three (Andrew Garfield)

~

“Oof! P-Peter, that’s not very comfortable on my—Get—Why are you up right now?” Peter Two stammered, shrugging awkwardly against the dead weight that had collapsed over the back of the couch and draped onto him without warning. “You’ll feel a lot better after you’ve slept this off. Get back in bed!”

Peter Three’s arms were flung haphazardly over his shoulders, head butting against the back of his neck. “Can’t sleep. It’s too bright and my head hurts and my stomach hurts and everything hurts. This is killing me, man. I need coffee!”

“You really don’t. The sooner you accept that this detox has to happen, the sooner it’ll be over.”

With their metabolism it was to be expected that they would end up building a tolerance and needing a bigger caffeine boost than most to get through the rougher days but Peter Three’s addiction went above and beyond. During their last visit they had found him as a jittery, wild-eyed mess on the brink of a meltdown. Today the withdrawals had him vacillating between sleepy, sullen, sore and now apparently clingy. His arms tightened abruptly around Two’s neck as if torn between the idea of hugging or strangling him.

“I’m suffering and you’re sitting over here acting like you don’t even care,” he groused, butting against him more spitefully at the cost of worsening his headache. “You’d care if it was Peter One. You’d be at his beck and call and cuddle him and pet his hair and whisper sweet nothings and do every stupid little mother hen thing if he asked.”

Suppressing a sigh and a small, wry smile, Peter Two reached over his shoulder to gently scratch his brother’s scalp. “Well, are you asking?”

“Hrmph.”

“Heh…alright, then. Tuck yourself back in. Your mother hen will be there shortly.”

[izabellathepole]

I decided to decrease my consumption of caffeine and these caffeine withdrawal headaches are not playing around

[tinycatslay]

#15 The hate

Everyone hates me.

Everyone hates me at work when I try to strike conversation as I pull a thread from my visibly worn-out green cardigan.

Everyone hates me at home when I sound too excited recounting my day.

Everyone hates me on a night out when I want to keep dancing instead of going home – it’s rare, but it happens.

Everyone hates me at the doctors when I complain about being in pain. It stings, it breaks, it bends me in unimageable ways…

Everyone hates me all the time, everywhere I go.

I would love to have a cheeky rhyme and positive conclusion to this bit.

I hate this chapter.

I lay down at home watching stim board and mukbang videos to calm down. The ones with pretty water sounds and people eating sushi graded salmon, respectively. It is a temporary solution for a long-term fight with everyone that hates me – which is surprising, given my phobia of seeing people eat a lot of food at once. The things we most hate bring us a reassuring comfort to watch, in some cases. A sense of ownership and accomplishment washes over me when I see things that remind of the bad times I´ve been through. Some people can’t stand to even think about it but I get curious, impressionable – almost as if I’m grasping at the concept for the first time. It’s an itch you can’t scratch. Lingers on your clothes, on the way you can’t joke with everyone else at office Christmas parties, at the extra quiet seconds when your mum tries to decipher if you still think about it. You do. I do.

I hate it.

[randomfusilier]

.

[sofiadragon]

I got decaf coffee for myself because I'm supposed to reduce my caffeine. My husband has been drinking the "autumn coffee" exclusively the last couple days. He did not read the box or the top of the coffee pod. He saw the vibrant orange DECAF subtitle on the pod and his brain said orange = fall seasonal flavor.

"You know babe, that flavored coffee doesn't taste like anything."

"What flavored coffee?"

"The orange one."

"The decaf coffee?"

[failed-version-of-both]

they should invent a caffeinated beverage that doesn't give you a headache when you don't drink it

[secretly-a-trekkie]

theyre scheming probably

[cjbolan]

The worst of my coffee withdrawal may be over. Still tired but my hands are no longer trembling. It’s been about a week since I last had a cup of coffee. So far my withdrawal symptoms have been on-off. Let’s hope they stay off from now on.

[cumaeansibyl]

okay this is my biggest conspiracy theory except it's not really a Conspiracy Theory because I am not actually positing a shadowy prime mover who planned the whole thing from the start. that always ends up in wildly antisemitic places where I do not go, and also I don't think anyone in history has had their shit together enough to mastermind Schemes of this type. my theories are always more like "this happened serendipitously and at some point maybe someone noticed and took advantage but there's certainly no central figure in charge."

so we start with the normalization of overwork in our society, since roughly forever. in modern times this led to abuse of medical and recreational stimulants -- everyone was on speed in the 50s and coke in the 80s -- but we all kind of figured out that was a bad idea, for the most part. what we still had after the white powder settled, though, was caffeine. totally legal, totally normalized.

but people were still overworked, and they also still wanted to have energy after work, to do fun things with the little free time left to them.

enter energy drinks.

unlike coffee, which still has the feeling of a daytime beverage and also to some extent a workplace beverage, energy drinks are an anytime food! you can even get them in mixed drinks for a night out. they're for work AND play. they come in a wide range of dose strengths, including a shooter for when you're in really dire straits. after all, taking caffeine pills feels like "pill-popping," but having a little beverage is fine, right?

at the same time, there is increasing interest in remedies for a variety of unspecific ailments caused by "toxins," the new buzzword in a very old industry of patent nostrums and dubious cure-alls. the theory is that some sort of unspecified substance has entered your body, and in order to feel well again you need to detox and cleanse -- which in practice involves a lot of induced defecation. And this is supposed to be good for feelings of fatigue, muscle soreness, anxiety, stomach upset, and difficulty sleeping.

See where I'm going with this?

The "toxins" that make you feel terrible all the time are caffeine. Not heavy metals, or refined sugar, or vaccines, or yeast. It's just fucking caffeine.

Well, caffeine and chronic overwork/sleep deprivation, which is not entirely a direct result of the caffeine but is certainly enabled/exacerbated by it. Everyone is working too much and taking stimulants to get through the day and in fact experiencing mild overdose symptoms on a fairly regular basis (irritable? jittery? that's caffeine toxicity) and it's no wonder we all feel like shit.

And then! When you come home from your day of pushing your mind and body too hard! It is ALSO normalized to take downers to level out! Alcohol is also a toxin, and it takes a lot less of it to start doing systemic damage than most people realize. When you wake up in the morning feeling foggy and achy, it may not be enough to register as a proper hangover, but it's almost certainly the combined effect of alcohol and caffeine withdrawal. Both mild! Both nearly harmless and easily recovered from! If you're not doing it on a regular basis and if you're getting enough rest, which you're not, as we previously established.

It's the chronicity that's the issue, the neverending grind of it all. You can't recover from chronic sleep deprivation or overwork with an extra few hours of rest on the weekends. You can't recover from long-term chemical dependence with a 24-hour tolerance break. If you're a wage earner in late-stage capitalism your options for reversing the damage are pretty limited and they all look like deprivation: prioritizing an unbroken 8-9 hours of sleep per night may well mean giving up most if not all of your social life and leisure activities. Fuck that.

And to be clear, I don't consider choosing to stay out late with a vodka Red Bull to be a personal failure of any kind, just like I don't think poor people should never buy themselves anything nice. If work keeps trying to take more and more of your time, you gotta carve out time for yourself somewhere. But... y'all know me. I want people to know the risks.

I think a lot of people don't realize that their bodies are under this much strain. They don't know that we are better suited for a 4-6 hour work day, that 6-7 hours of sleep is genuinely not enough for most people, that as little as 2 cups of coffee might be enough to put them over the recommended maximum caffeine intake. They don't know that they're drinking enough alcohol to cause health problems.

If you know and you decide to do it anyway that's fine, it's your right. I do inadvisable shit all the time. But people don't know, they're not being told, because they can't be allowed to question the material conditions they're being forced to endure -- and then they're being sold a bunch of useless or even harmful bullshit to "cure" the inevitable consequences of those conditions.

[aftgficrec]

Do you have any recs for alternate endings to the championship games?? This will scratch such a major itch!

Thank you in advance! You guys are amazing!!

Hi there, @caffeinated-croissant Unlike Baltimore, or Neil’s visit to Evermore, there’s surprisingly little canon divergence regarding the Foxes’ championship win, and a lot of it is pretty dark.  We did our best, and this is what we found.  If anybody knows any more, please let us know! - S

Also see...

canon-divergent angst post-TKM here 

'eat their young - Fox!Riko au' series here

Hearts In Halves by heybabyricecake [Rated M, 247291 words, complete, 2024, locked]

Instead of killing Riko and sending Neil back to the Foxes, Ichirou banishes Riko and takes Neil back to the Edgar Allen Ravens to be their starting striker. This is basically post canon, if the very last scene in The Kings Men happened differently. Neil has to adjust to life in the Ravens Nest, and the Foxes have to deal with losing Neil right after championships. The Nest is a nightmare, and Andrew is reeling from the separation from Neil. Andrew and Neil have to burn it all to the ground to find their way back to each other.

tw: violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: torture, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: emotional manipulation,  tw: drug addiction, tw: withdrawal, tw: drug overdose, tw: kidnapping, tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: homophobic language, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced eating disorders

too late. by carmellian [Rated T, 1199 words, complete, 2024]

Andrew is running before he can see anything else. Somebody shouts. It might've been Dan. Neil turns, and looks up, on his knees as the racquet comes crashing down onto his skull. His body drops like a stone. Riko raises the racquet again. Andrew is faster. basically, i rewrote that scene from the very end of king's men but what if andrew didn't make it to neil in time

tw: major character death, tw: graphic depictions of violence

Am I Screaming to An Empty Sky? by phan_taloon [Rated M, 32016 words, complete, 2022, locked]

His stomach sank, a heavy weight settled, twisting his insides even more. His breathing had been labored before, but his lungs seemed frozen now. He didn’t understand. This couldn’t be happening. The Foxes were staring at the scoreboard expecting it to change. A chill settled around Neil, and he really couldn’t breathe. Basically, what if the Foxes lost the finals? This is so self indulgent, I just love putting myself through pain via these characters. Title taken from Anathema by twenty one pilots Upped the rating, added warnings, so buckle up, the updates will hurt

tw: violence, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: suicide attempt, tw: self harm, tw: major character injuries, tw: rape/noncon, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced depression, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: drug addiction

White by heart0fdarkness [Rated G (we say T), 862 words, complete, 2019]

Hallucinations. He says they will pass, like everything else. Like the inability to line up words and walk straight without tripping up and getting hurt. Like the memory lapses and the blackouts. Like the emptiness.

tw: traumatic brain injury, tw: gun violence, tw: blood, tw: assumed suicide attempt, tw: attempted murder, tw: psychiatric drugs administered without knowledge

Shadows and Monsters by starlonging [Not Rated, 4433 words, incomplete, last updated Dec 2018, locked]

Neil didn’t know they’d reached the last minute of the game until the buzzer blared overhead but his body understood and finally gave out on him. He fell to his knees on the court, stomach twisting and entire body feeling like a big bruise. His gasped breaths did nothing for him but he forced his head up to look at the scoreboard when the buzzer blared again. Nine-Ten, Ravens’ favor. They’d lost.  They’d lost.

tw: dark, tw: violence, tw: torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

King Without a Court by FatesOfConquest [Rated T (we say M), 8264 words, incomplete, last updated Nov 2018]

Ichirou had spared Riko's life after the championships, leaving his younger brother adrift and directionless. But Riko is nothing without Exy, not even alive, and plans his revenge against those who had taken everything from him; the Palmetto Foxes and their new vice-captain.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: torture, tw: violence, tw: kidnapping, tw: panic attacks, tw: major character injury, tw: blood

Remembered. by LunnVic [Rated T, we say M, 10756 words, complete 2017]

Ichirou Moriyama lets Neil Josten go. But not so easily. He lets him go back to the last game with a clear deal: if the Ravens wins, Neil will be executed. But if the Foxes win, Neil will have to execute Riko and clean up his mess. He will be the person who cut losses everywhere, he will have to make dissappear people from Carolina to South Carolina. Cops, doctors, moles. Proust. And when Nathaniel Wesninski has done with this, then he will be free to be Neil Josten. Not a minute before.

tw: dissociation, tw: violence, tw: murder, tw: canonical character death, tw: blood, tw: cannibalistic thoughts, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: knives, tw: nonconsensual drug use

Two Kevin-centric post canon fics where Riko survives TKM:

Funeral Pyre by KweenDay [Rated M, 9581 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2024, locked]

Kevin did everything to prevent ending up on a team with Riko Moriyama: he waited until he was sure Riko signed with another team, and then picked one only two hours away from Jean and Jeremy, and half-a-country away from Riko. He'd planned everything just right. And it still wasn't enough in the end. Now, he's stuck in the same city, team, and damn apartment, with Riko, and this time, he doesn't have Neil and Andrew and the Foxes to back him up. Kevin is all alone against him. Or at least that's what he thinks—Jean and Jeremy have other plans.  AKA Riko doesn't die in TKM and Kevin ends up on the same team with him after graduation. Jean and Jeremy plot Riko's murder (probably😂)

tw: violence, tw: panic attacks, tw: emotional manipulation, tw: psychological torture, tw: drug abuse

Things you can tell just by looking at him by RJSawyer [Rated T, 36768 words, complete, 2020]

Going on Kevin's third year with the Foxes, he wanted a smooth year. He wanted to be over the crippling anxiety of his time at the Ravens nest. He wanted to win championships for the third year in a row. He wanted to hear Riko's name and not flinch. He wanted to get though the week without a nightmare. Kevin wanted a lot. For Kevin, want and need were interchangeable since he was never really able to want anything. After the Foxes first championship, Riko's broken arm, the Master stepping down and Kevin being back on top of his game, the Breckenridge Jackals had climbed tooth and nail up the standings. They knocked out Penn State and Kevin knew they were going to be the new power house. So why did they not recruit one of the best Strikers Kevin had seen when they already had him in their circle?

tw: panic attacks, tw: drug overdose, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced suicide

Riko becomes a Fox:

Quarter House by Noomynoom [Rated M, 2316 words, incomplete, last updated June 2023]

Riko knew the cast on his arm is not a guarantee of him living long enough to take it off, and so he ran. Foxes save a stray from becoming a roadkill.

tw: injuries

Redeeming Riko by Rachello344 [Rated M, 3792 words, incomplete, last updated July 2022]

Riko has lost everything: Kevin, his chance with his father, the big game, his brother's respect, and now his pride and what little freedom he had. He can either let the Foxes take him in and show him a life outside of the Nest or he can die. Riko would rather die, but Kevin has other ideas for him.

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: injuries

fandom fun post

 Why am I gasping? I already knew that by @bvrtysbvtches [tumblr, 2024]

pov: me reading the final game between the ravens and the foxes from jean's pov

Art

kandreil WINNING🗣️ by @deklo

Neil playing as backliner against Riko by @s-hanna-h

The Epilogue cartoon by @unkingly for @giveyourbacktome-zine (tw: gun violence, tw: graphic murder)

[tinycatslay]

#14 The imaginary war – English banter, friendships, and ice cream pit stops

At 19 I moved to the UK to go to arts university in Nottingham. It was the best decision I’ve made in my life. But now, 5 years later, I feel like I lost a war I didn’t even know I was fighting.

It’s not like I gave up my country, I visit whenever I can. I love boasting about the lovely weather, incredible food, blooming new places across the city.

But it’s a feeling of pride and shame that confuses me when all I can retain now is a housing crisis, no jobs, and a country whose mentality is as old as the population. I feel proud to have made it out here. But I feel ashamed of missing it as often as I do. It’s a mixture of knowing you got out of a long-term relationship that wasn’t right for you – but now you don’t know how to fit anywhere else, too strong was the previous puzzle piece outline that it draws blood when you try to squeeze in elsewhere.

For me it’s the English banter. It is, without a doubt, my demise. Absolute social suicide. I used to be outspoken, extroverted, excited to say something (anything really). But now I can’t relate to these people because, ultimately, they are not mine. They will never be mine nor make the effort to understand what that would be like. I think that is why I fell so in love with my boyfriend. He wanted to be my person and he knew he had to become part of all my past lives to do so. This is not to say I expect everyone I meet to immerse themselves in my problems so that I feel welcome - I am not that self-centred. I am merely trying to make sense of why I haven’t been able to connect with people in a while.

My long-lasting friendships with people I have grown up with have come to an end, no matter how much I try to reignite that flame. Some of them are still around, hidden in text messages that offer a glimpse of what their life is like now. I am the happiest to have those updates - it’s as if they take me with them on their new chapters, and I hope they know I always wish them well no matter the number of pages from where we started. But the ones that moved on so easily make me question why anyone else would willingly stick around to read the news.

I can feel myself give in to this imaginary war every once or twice a week. It’s a five-minute jog between not relating to English office culture to fully believing that I will never have a deep and meaningful friendship again.

I have read the answer many times. I am still working on it myself, but I will leave it here so that someone else can make sense of it.

Ultimately, everyone is just worried about making it through the day. You wouldn’t care if I was sat here overthinking the way you awkwardly said “okay” at a joke that didn’t land. No one gives a shit if you want to wear that top, or change your hair, or go to that thing you think you’ll be judged for. You will only regret not doing what you wanted to when you are old and bored.

So, make the appointment, send the text, confront that person, ask people questions. It’s hard but it will be worth it. In the end, the worst it could happen would be for you to be a little bit embarrassed and have a nice night-in with three pints of ice cream to pull you out of it.

You didn’t lose the war, you just had a pit stop for ice cream.